Pretty Little Liars 6 Killer - Comments on

ehind trees and appear at windows, watching her from beyond the grave.
A short-haired bartender dressed in black took their orders. Aria asked for pinot noir—she thought it
seemed sophisticated—and Jason ordered a gimlet. When he noticed Aria’s confused expression, he
said,
“It’s vodka and lime juice. A girlfriend at Yale got me into it.”
“Oh.” Aria ducked her head at the word girlfriend.
“She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” Jason added, which made Aria blush more.
They got their drinks, and Jason slid his gimlet over to her. “Try it.” She took a dainty si p. “It’s good,” she
said. It tasted like Sprite, except way more fun.
Jason folded his hands, a curious smile on his lips. “You seem awfully comfortable drinking in a bar.” He
dropped his voice to a whisper. “You almost have me fooled that you’re twenty-one.”
Aria slid the gimlet back to him. “I spent the last three years in Iceland. They’re not as strict about
drinking,
and my parents were pretty lenient. Plus, I never had to drive home, either—my house was a couple of
blocks away from the main drag. The worst thing that happened was I once tripped over the
cobblestones
after having too much Brennivín schnapps and skinned my knee.”
“Europe seemed to really change you.” Jason leaned back and appraised her. “I remember you as this
awkward
kid. Now, you’re…” He trailed off.
Aria’s heart pounded. She was…what? “I fit in better in Iceland,” she admitted when it was clear he
wasn’t
going to finish his sentence.
“How so?”
“Well…” Aria stared at the oil portraits around the room of old aristocratic women. Underneath each of
their portraits were their birth and death dates. “Guys, for one. In Iceland, they didn’t care if I was
popular.
They cared about what music I listened to or what books I liked to read. In Rosewood, guys only like one