Chapter 32 Aria
Aria
In the week that’s passed since the animal adoption event at the park, Aria has kept her head down.
Although the musical inspiration is coming only in fits and spurts, she’s started her new workout regimen with her trainer in preparation for the album tour.
It may seem early, but Worldwide Records has already made their intent to drop the next album “as soon as humanly possible” once it’s ready, so Aria needs to be in top shape.
The workouts are kicking her butt currently, another sign it was probably best to start now, so she’s also spending a decent amount of time in a warm bath.
A couple days earlier, she’d bemoaned her suffering to Griffin when they took some shelter dogs out for a walk in the park—cosplaying pet owners for an afternoon.
“How do you endure this for a living? I feel like my muscles are breaking after every workout.” Aria hobbled for the first quarter mile before she got warmed up.
“Technically they are because muscle fibers have to break and reattach to grow muscle,” Griffin said, sounding terribly like a professional athlete know-it-all.
Aria threw him a look through slitted eyes. “Not the support I was looking for.”
“Stop in for a cookie on the way out after we bring the dogs back?” Griffin’s face turned sheepish. “Admittedly I’ve stopped in once or twice after practice since you clued me in to them.”
Aria took great pleasure in converting Griffin to a cookie regular, knowing full well the one from her special coffee shop was the best in town. An hour later, the pair emerged from the coffee shop, this time each with their own sweet treat.
“How’s Sunday’s game looking?” Aria asked between bites as they walked back toward their cars.
“Eh. The Panthers are formidable. Especially the defense. So we offense players need to really look out.” Griffin bit into his cookie, taking down almost a quarter of it at a time.
“You’ve got this. I can’t wait to see you guys win.”
“I’d offer you the box tickets, but I let Elliott take mine for this week. He has a whole crew of family flying in from Atlanta.”
“No worries. I’ll be able to see each of your long eyelashes in HD on my big screen.”
Aria wished she had reworded that last one. It sounded a bit too loving and adoring and a little bit outside of the friend zone they had agreed to play within.
Griffin had pulled her under his arm in the friendliest of bear hugs and said, “Your faith in me will take me the extra mile, no doubt. That and the promise of another one of these ASAP postgame.”
This evening, as promised, Aria sets herself up on her comfortable couch under the cathedral ceiling and turns on her massive TV. She has her favorite soda, popcorn, and a minibar of her favorite candy as treats for her viewing.
Much like Griffin, she’s on a “performance enhancing” diet as part of her physical preparation, but she’s far less happy to follow it than he is.
The game kicks off at 2:00 p.m., and by 2:15 p.m., Bailey is posted up beside Aria, hand in the popcorn bowl, asking which one on the field is Griffin. Aria points him out, instructing Bailey to look for the jersey with the number 13 on it.
“So things are good between you?” Bailey asks between bites.
“They’re great. There’s zero funny business, but we’re having a ton of fun in the friend zone.”
Bailey presses her lips tight and pops her eyebrows knowingly.
Aria catches her doing this and slaps at her playfully. “Cut it out. That’s not helpful.”
Bailey raises her hands as she backs away. “Sorry!”
“We’re being adults about the whole thing.”
“My mistake,” Bailey says.
The first half of the game isn’t pretty for the Wardens. They’re down 14–0, and the offense can’t seem to hit their stride. Aria mutters under her breath, cursing the Panthers.
“The QB really needs to step up,” Aria says. “He’s getting intimidated by the defensive linemen.”
Aria won’t say it out loud because it would make it all too real, but they’re a big crew who look grisly and angry. She wouldn’t want to be put up against them.
“Since when do you know any of these things?” Bailey asks, bewildered.
“Since Griff and I became friends. I want to support him like he supports me, so obviously I’m going to watch.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“I finally have a real one, and I’m all in on it. Not to mention I know what it’s like to go on under the lights, under the pressure.”
“You two really are a match made in heaven.”
Aria can tell Bailey is biting her tongue, and she appreciates it.
She grabs another handful of popcorn just as the clock starts to run down to the end of the first half.
The Wardens have possession, and she knows that if they can get the ball into Griffin’s hands, he might be able to get points on the board. He’s great under pressure.
As if her mind’s been read, the ball snaps to the quarterback, and he telescopes it directly into Griffin’s hands.
Griffin presses the ball into his chest and turns, but before he can thrust himself into a forward step, he’s hit hard in his blind spot by a massive linebacker.
Griffin falls to the ground like his knees were cut out from below him.
Aria gasps as she shoots to her feet, both hands flying to her mouth. “Holy sh—”
“Is that Griff?” Bailey says.
In the pause that follows, the camera zooms onto Griffin’s body, which remains flat out on the green turf. Aria begins to whisper, “Get up, Griff. Get up.”
Her heart races, terror coursing through her. She sucks in a rapid breath at the sight of him moving. He rolls around a little, and the athletic trainers swarm him.
The commentators speculate:
“He took that hit pretty hard.”
“Looks like he’s awake, but he’s in no rush to get back up.”
“We all remember five years ago when he had a similar hit and a knee injury ended his season.”
“Hayes is a strong player, but when anyone gets hit like that, it’s going to take you out.”
Aria is glued to the screen, and when he sits up with his helmet removed, she feels like she might cry.
Relief that he’s awake and upright. Pain that he’s injured.
Fear that there’s more to this. Aria, just like anyone else, knows the risks of playing professional football, the impact of many tackles over time, the finicky nature of the human brain.
She wants to run onto the field and hug him.
Foolishly, she grabs for her phone to call him, but she looks back to the screen, her reminder that his phone is stored far away in the locker room.
“He’s getting up,” Bailey says.
The trainers help him off the field, and the crowd erupts into cheers.
“Looks like that same knee that gave him trouble years ago is hurt, and he’s putting no weight on that foot,” one commentator states.
Aria’s heart rate slows as the camera zooms in on Griffin in the back of the truck that’s driving him out of the stadium.
He waves at his adoring fans, even attempting a smile, but she knows he’s not all right.
The camera betrays worry etched into his face, keenly obvious to those who know him, as it follows him.
The commentators chirp their accolades to Hayes, their well-wishes for his speedy recovery as he departs.
Aria keeps her eyes on him all the way until the truck cuts out of the shot.
And she could see his long eyelashes the whole way.
She reaches for her phone and texts anyway.
Aria: I’m watching, Griff. I know you won’t get this until later, but call me as soon as you can. I’m thinking about you. xoxo.
Probably she shouldn’t have added the “xoxo” part, but this is an emergency situation, and she’ll allow herself some leeway.