Chapter 28 Aria
Aria
When Griffin props his finger under her chin, Aria melts.
Griffin sits closer to Aria’s heart than anyone has in a long time.
Never once when the arrangement kicked off did she think that she and Griffin would talk about meaningful things; never once did she think she’d discover he was so remarkable.
Most of the athletes she’s come in contact with haven’t been the deepest of beings.
Everything about Griffin so far has been one happy surprise.
His face lowers before hers, and her eyes are trained on his. Aria can tell by the way he looks at her, the desire flickering, that he wants the same as she does. She trusts him.
So she closes her eyes and lets herself fall.
Aria weaves her arms around his neck and lets his hulking figure hold the weight of her. It feels like being caught midair when their lips meet, her breath knocked from her at the very moment she’s held by someone big and strong and bound to keep her safe.
Aria stays in the kiss for as long as she can before breaking it for a hungry breath.
As she pulls back, her eyes popping open, she meets his gaze. Something like surprise passes between the two. As if both of them—despite the force driving them together—realize that this kiss is way off script. That despite their talks, never have they broached this.
Aria’s hand goes to her mouth and tentatively touches her delicate lips. Her breath is still light and quick, and beneath her, her legs are wobbly.
Aria steps back, and reflexively, Griffin pushes his hands into his pockets, hanging his head ever so slightly.
Aria mentally fumbles around for the next thing to do.
This kiss itself was electric—as evidenced by the full-body shiver still running through her.
Despite this fact, plus the fact that Griffin might be the highest-quality guy she’s ever come to know, letting things between them slip into romance is a big step. A scary one.
“Well, that was unexpected.” Griffin looks up from under his brow sheepishly.
Aria realizes the silence has sat between them a beat too long, and this is surely Griffin’s attempt to smooth things over.
“Yes! Sorry. Gosh. Should I say sorry? I don’t even know.”
Griffin reaches up and massages the back of his neck like he, too, is stumped by the situation they’ve found themselves in.
He looks adorable when he does so, and part of Aria wishes their whole PR commitment had never existed. That they were just two regular people free to kiss as much as they wanted without anyone trying to take their picture, free of the harsh spotlights of fame, free of the public’s demands.
“You don’t have to say anything, Aria.” Griffin’s words are comforting and heartbreaking at once.
It’s him acknowledging the fact that it’s not a clear-cut situation. That he, too, sees the intricacy here.
“I don’t want to upset you.” Aria squeezes her hands together as if she could wring the discomfort out.
“You’re not. I’m not sure you ever could.” Griffin looks at his wristwatch. “But I should probably get going. Another morning practice tomorrow, and we have a team breakfast before.”
Something in Aria’s chest hitches. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s disappointment in this day ending this way. Maybe it’s a longing for clarity in the middle of this muddy situation. But most likely it’s at the prospect of distance growing between them.
“Of course. Totally. I hope I didn’t keep you.” Aria resists the urge to roll her eyes at her clumsy comment.
“I hope I didn’t keep you.”
Yes, by kissing him, then only realizing after the fact that maybe just following the whims of her feelings isn’t a great plan. That in fact there was no plan.
Griffin pulls the sliding door open, then stands back and holds out a hand to indicate she go first. Faithful Griff, always a gentleman, even—apparently—in the face of a surprise kiss.
“Thank you,” Aria says quietly as she passes through.
She walks slowly enough for Griffin to close the door and keep up behind her, but Aria keeps the momentum going through the studio, up the stairs, through the kitchen, then into the entryway to the door.
She pulls it open, and Griffin pauses before he steps out, standing there face-to-face with Aria.
The same position they were in just moments earlier locking lips.
“Regardless of”—Griffin gestures widely with a single hand—“any of that, everything I said stands. You’re killing it, and staying true to yourself is the way to your next album being your best yet.”
“Thanks.” Gone is Aria’s ease, gone is the bubbly banter that’s become their routine. She speaks plainly.
Griffin cracks a smile. “And that’s coming from your number one fan.”
He reaches out and squeezes the top of her arm before turning quickly for the door. He steps out onto the wraparound porch and digs into his pocket. Once he has retrieved the keys, he unlocks the car with a click of the remote and turns back—very briefly—to throw her a single wave.
Aria returns the gesture, pulls a tight smile, then shuts the door. Only then does she let herself fall back against it and let her head loll back. She closes her eyes, and inside her eyelids, the kiss replays over and over again.
What on earth is she supposed to do about that? Surely marrying their PR arrangements with real feelings is only a recipe for disaster.
Aria’s heart is still hammering, and there is no question it’s out of fear.
She’s already let her walls down enough with Griffin, and now this happens.
Opening the gates to feelings and dating would only make her more vulnerable, only make the ultimate letdown hurt more.
Even if it’s Griffin, even if most of her brain agrees that he won’t hurt her like people did in the past, it’s a terrifying concept to consider.
Griffin would probably give great advice on the situation if he weren’t already wound up in it.
When she’s ready, Aria will have to talk it over with Bailey.
She always knows what to do.