Chapter 8 Aria
Aria
Aria meant it when she said Griffin was being generous for offering the ride.
After one too many strange rideshare experiences, her security team made her promise never to use one again, and if she were to have done it tonight and they’d found out, they would take to following her around everywhere again.
Nights like tonight where she can pretend to—somewhat—be a regular person are nice.
Like shedding the Aria Wilder persona for a little while and just being herself.
Griffin sits beside her, his giant palms planted on his wide knees.
Aria rests her head back onto the leather seat, closes her eyes, and lets out a long, slow breath. When she opens them, Griffin sits grinning at her on the other side of the seat.
“Tough life, huh?”
A lazy smile crosses Aria’s face, then she shrugs. “There are perks. But . . .”
Again, Aria is overcome by the impulse to keep her professionalism before her like a shield, to be grateful for the fans, delighted by her success. But for a moment she wonders whether Griffin is someone she could be honest with.
“It’s not all fun and games.”
Aria nods. “What’s the hardest part for you?”
Griffin reaches an arm across his chest to massage his shoulder. “Aside from getting beat up every weekend during the season, it’s how it takes over your whole life.”
Aria, too, feels like she’s been consumed by the public-facing version of herself. There’s so much more to her, but all of her people—her agent, Kelsey, the record label—don’t seem interested in including the other parts of her in her professional work.
“It’s like getting boxed in.”
Griffin turns and looks out the window, even though beyond the glass is only the dark of night. “You have to show up and be that same person every day.”
“Did you always know you wanted to be a football player?”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly family tradition. Everyone else is a doctor, nurse, or some sort of tech in the field. But I was always a big kid. I grew fast, and football came easy to me.” His cheeks turn slightly pink. “Sorry, I’m not trying to brag—”
“You’re safe with me,” Aria cuts in. She really does mean it.
It’s surprisingly interesting hearing more about Griffin.
Despite his success, he seems so down-to-earth.
So genuinely kind. “And I know what it feels like to always watch your words. To worry about saying the wrong thing or being misunderstood and being canceled or shamed online,” Aria says.
Griffin casts his hands across the front of him as if he’s presenting the hypothetical headline: “Griffin Hayes, star tight end, also an arrogant devil?”
Aria laughs. “You know they would.”
It’s the truth about being famous. Every word can be pulled out of context and circulated online with no regard for the meaning or intent behind the words. It further reinforces the pressure to be one person with canned talking points, to never stray too far from the script.
“I guess to be entirely honest, football is really the only thing I’ve ever been good at,” Griffin says.
“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of hidden talents in there.”
Griffin’s face drops momentarily before he pulls in a breath and speaks. “What about you? What’s the hardest part?”
“There’s plenty of hard.” Aria considers telling him about her real struggle—the new album.
Even though she feels remarkably comfortable with him and they have become fast friends, she just met him.
They barely know each other. “Definitely the same stuff you mentioned, but also the restrictions. There are so many times I’d love to just spontaneously head out for coffee with Bailey or go shopping.
But again, security has to be notified. Sometimes I manage to get out on my own, but there’s so much freedom and independence lost.”
“I got it easy in that department. I’m just too big for most people to kidnap.”
Aria’s cheeks crease into a smile so deep it starts to hurt. “A perk, for sure.”
Aria wasn’t sure what to expect from Griffin Hayes when the two first became intertwined.
Maybe she had no expectations at all. But she can definitively say she’s happily surprised by what she’s come to know of him so far.
She’s no football expert, but she saw him in action with the Wardens before she met him.
His physical power on the field becomes obvious within a play or two on game day. He’s aggressive and explosive.
The side of Griffin that Aria’s gotten to know in person thus far is so difficult to marry with the tough athlete that hits the field on Sundays.
His genuine kindness, humility, and generosity are just as much a part of him as his muscular build and his intensity on the field.
It seems like something that should be a contradiction, but with Griffin Hayes living and breathing as such in front of her, there’s proof that it’s possible.
Aria of all people knows how much more there is to public figures than what’s broadcast to the world. Of course she knew it’d be the same for Griffin. She just never expected to like so much of who he is off the field.
Griffin pulls out his phone now that the conversation has slowed, and the screen lights his face in a way that accentuates his cheekbones and his wide jaw. His mouth curves gently upward—not a smile so much as a mouth poised in waiting for a smile. Like perhaps he’s wired for optimism.
Griffin’s been objectively attractive from the start, but only now in this moment inside the dark car, with him carrying her home to safety, does her heart do a tiny, barely there flutter.
Is Aria attracted to Griffin Hayes, her fake friend for PR purposes only?
She pushes the thought away. It’s nothing more than a side effect of their arrangement. Her team has already pulled him into this scheme, one that serves his football career far less than it serves her pop star engine, and the last thing she wants is to complicate it. He’s not here to woo her.
He’s here for the job.
But at least he’s easy on the eyes—as well as a good guy, funny even—while he sticks around.