❝ we all eat lies, when our hearts are hungry ❞
Halle Brewster made a promise she would never tell the secrets of the summer Alison DiLaurentis went missing. Only now, someone else was doing the telling - something Alison never got the chance to do...
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Dreams were fleeting. They came and went and were forgotten soon after they happened. Slipping from the memory's grasp, it wasn't very often Halle could remember her dreams. The good ones faded faster than any bad dream she might have had. Only, Halle struggled decided where her latest fell.
Jason turned to her, propped up on his elbow. He was leaning over her, the corners of his mouth turned up. "Where were we?"
Halle jolted up in bed. A bolt ran straight up her back, and she gasped awake. The alarm clock beeped still, having startled her awake. She groaned and slammed her hand down on the top button. She heaved a heavy sigh, running her hand over her face. "Well, that was new."
By time breakfast came around, Halle's dream hadn't fallen out of her mind. She was still spinning, her brain in overdrive as she tried to figure out why the dream came up now. Jason had been back for a while and she had closer encounters than last week. If anything, Halle thought she should've have one after the fashion show, when he confronted her about wanting to kiss him.
Halle did want to kiss Jason. That night especially. Halle thought for certain she would have if Aria hadn't interrupted.
She got lost up in her thoughts, her fingers touching her lips as she tried to remember how it felt to kiss Jason. It had been so long. Her eyes were hazed over, sparkling with the ghost of his kiss. The dream only added to the fantasy.
"Halle — Halle!" Luisa clicked her fingers in front of her daughter's face, causing Halle to snap out of it. "I asked you to put those on the table," said her mother. She looked down at the bowl of strawberries cut up into neat triangles.
"You know, we really do have to do this," Halle said.
"Do what?" asked Luisa. She busied herself with plating up the last of the pancakes she had cooked that morning.
Glancing at the dining table through the shutter-doors, it decorated with a full spread, Halle cringed knowing it was her doing. "Family breakfast," she said.
"Well, we wouldn't have to have one if you kept your fists to yourself," Myles said purposefully, his snide commented aimed at Halle.
Halle shot him tight, sarcastic smile in retaliation. She went to flip him off too, but her father came up behind her and his hand closed around hers, keeping her from swearing. Nick Brewster looked at her, giving her a knowing stare, to which Halle only rolled her eyes at.
"Okay," Halle said. "I'll take them." She stood from the bar stool and glanced at her mother across the counter. "Anything else?"
"Oh — Oh!" Luisa flitted around the kitchen, grabbing the glass jug full of fresh orange from the side, and handed it over to her daughter. She smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
