Chapter 14 Aria
Aria
Aria sits in her favorite room at the coffee shop, the one so small and tucked so far in the back that it only has room for one table.
Her hat is pulled down low and drinks for both of them are on the table before her.
When Aria had texted Griffin to ask his order, she couldn’t help but smile at his reply.
Griffin: Green tea, please. Let me know how much, and I’ll Venmo you.
Of all the people who claimed to be “friends” of hers over the years, most assumed that she would always pick up their tabs anyplace they went. It wasn’t that she minded; she could afford it. It was more the assumption that the friendship came with financial benefits.
Aria hears the creaking of the old wooden floors of the coffee shop before she sees Griffin. They squeak in a way she can only presume is due to the massive bulk of a professional football player. When Griffin appears, he has to duck slightly to enter through the small opening.
“People back then must’ve been smaller,” he says by way of greeting.
“Nowadays most people are still smaller than you.” She lifts her cup and sips.
Griffin settles into the chair, and Aria loves that he blocks them from view in the doorway, that passersby will see only his back and his cap-covered head. To anyone else, they’re two regular people having coffee. It’s a luxury to disappear in public.
Griffin nods to his tea. “Thank you for this.”
“Sure thing. Double mocha latte with extra whipped cream, right?”
Griffin falters for a moment, eyes darting between Aria and the lidded cup, when finally she bursts into laughter.
“I’m kidding. That’s what I got for myself, minus the extra whip.”
Griffin lets out a breath. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Did you see the Late Night talking points that were emailed over?” Aria asks. She pulls a flat brown bag from her purse and takes a jumbo chocolate chip cookie from inside it. She sets it on top of the bag on the table between them.
“I did. And honestly, it seems pretty simple?” Griffin’s voice lilts upward as if he suspects he’s being deceived.
Aria picks a small bite from the side of the cookie and nods while she chews. “They’re very easy, and this show is known for going easy on noncontroversial celebs. So, I think they just want to see us be friends. They’ll ask us their questions, and we can answer them however we like.”
Griffin taps around on his phone screen. “I’m looking again. Yeah, you’re totally right.”
“Obviously we just stick to the story,” Aria says. “We got connected when you first went viral over ‘Glass Heart,’ and we hit it off from there. We can make up any answers that sound good to the other questions about our friendship, and we’ll just back each other up and work together.”
After the time they spent together yesterday, “working together” seems like the easiest thing in the world.
Griffin nods. “You’re right. Maybe I was making too big of a deal over this.”
Aria pushes the brown paper bag, cookie atop, toward Griffin.
He shakes his head. “No thanks.”
She smiles, cocks her head, and in a singsong voice says, “I played football for you, and you won’t even share a teensy cookie with me?”
Griffin’s face cracks into a smile that sends wrinkles across his face. Aria revels in it. As Griffin sighs in defeat, Aria looks on, butterflies of fun flapping in her middle.
“A little.” Griffin demonstrates a tiny amount between his thumb and pointer finger.
Aria snatches the cookie from the tabletop, and using both hands, she bends the cookie in half and breaks it apart. She holds out his half.
When Griffin reaches out and takes it, their fingers momentarily touch.
Aria’s eyes fly to the spot where her hand feels like it’s sizzling.
Before Griffin pulls his hand away, he rubs his thumb once back and forth over the thin skin of her hand.
It’s a seemingly unconscious motion, so small she almost misses it.
She hopes he doesn’t notice her sharp intake of breath.
Griffin doesn’t hesitate before taking a massive bite of the cookie. He chews with his eyes shut, and once he swallows, says, “Please never take no for an answer if you offer me a cookie like that again. Holy cow was I wrong.”
Aria looks on in smug delight. “A little bit of cookie won’t break the football machine.”
Griffin finishes the cookie, takes a sip of his tea, then checks the time on his phone.
“You rushing off?” Aria asks, attempting to mask the desperation threatening to resound in her voice.
She’s been looking forward to seeing him, and their planned discussion went far too quickly.
“Not unless you are. I want to get the full experience.” Griffin gestures to the coffee shop around them.
A calm settles inside Aria, and she drops her head to one side. “Isn’t it great? I feel so at home here.”
“Yeah? What about it feels like home?” Griffin holds eye contact even as he tilts his cup to sip.
A familiar twinge cuts across Aria’s chest, her body’s way of reminding her to keep her walls up, reminding her that most people can’t be trusted. It doesn’t take much for her to override the warning and barrel right in. Griffin is different. That much is obvious by now.
“I grew up in a small, old house. Nothing as cute or quaint as this, but there’s just something about being in a place like this that feels like being welcomed home. Getting to be myself and not the ‘official’ Aria Wilder. Like I can kick my feet up and breathe for a moment.”
Griffin sets down his cup, and his gaze warms Aria. He’s almost inspecting her. “I’m glad you said it, because you really are so much more than the persona on all the promotional stuff.”
“Yeah? What do you make of it?”
The quiet that passes feels a bit like awaiting a verdict. Does Griffin like what he sees of her like she’s terribly intrigued by what she’s seeing of him? When a smile teases at the corner of his mouth and he runs a hand through his wavy hair, Aria can’t take her eyes off him.
She’s already hoping they get another round of drinks. Green tea is healthy, right?
Surely she could convince Griffin to stay, even if the time for him to go hasn’t yet come.