Chapter 6 #2
“We are not getting a dog right now,” he said finally.
“Yet.”
“We need to be responsible adults first.”
“But you're not saying no to a dog permanently.”
“I'm not saying anything definitive about a dog.”
“So that's a maybe on the dog.”
“That's a 'let's survive our first couple of months in LA before we add any living creatures to the household' on the dog.”
“I can work with that timeline.” I bookmarked the rescue website and closed the laptop. “But I'm keeping Buster and Ziggy in mind. Just in case.”
Gryff’s phone buzzed with a notification, interrupting my mental planning of our future fluffy-butt family.
“Oh, that's the documentary crew,” he said, checking the message. “They want to do some filming here tomorrow afternoon. Something about 'settling into domestic life in LA.'”
“Right, you mentioned they'd send us a schedule.” I didn’t love the idea of being on camera, but this was important to Gryff.
The next evening, Sloane and her cameraman Harry arrived exactly on time, armed with professional equipment and what appeared to be a very detailed shot list.
“This place looks amazing,” Sloane said, immediately moving through the living room like she was cataloging every detail. “Very... authentic. Lived-in.”
“We've been unpacking,” I said, suddenly self-conscious about the throw pillows and picture frames we'd arranged so carefully.
“Perfect. That's exactly the vibe we want, real life, not staged. Harry, let's start with some establishing shots of the space, then we'll do the interview on the couch.”
For the next hour, they filmed us doing mundane domestic tasks like making coffee, discussing whose turn it was to do dishes, arguing about what to watch on the enormous TV Chris had insisted on including with the house.
“This is great,” Sloane said, reviewing footage on her camera. “You two have such natural chemistry as roommates. It really comes through on film.”
Something about the way she said “roommates” made me glance at Gryff. He gave me a shrug. This was a dance we’d done so many times before.
“Yep. Friends and roommates. It works really well for us.”
“Now let's do some individual interviews,” Sloane continued. “Gryff, we'll start with you. Artie, if you don't mind giving us some space?”
I retreated to the kitchen, ostensibly to start dinner but actually to give them privacy. Through the open doorway, I could hear Sloane asking questions about Gryff's adjustment to LA, his goals for the season, his thoughts on living with a friend.
“And how's the roommate situation working out?” Sloane asked. “It must be nice to have someone you're so comfortable with.”
“Yeah, it's been great,” Gryff replied. “Artie makes everything feel more like home.”
“You two seem very close. How long have you been friends?”
“Since high school. She's... she's important to me.”
Something in his tone made me look up from the vegetables I was chopping, but I couldn't see his face from this angle.
“Any challenges with the living arrangement? Conflicts over space, different schedules, dating lives?”
There was a pause before Gryff answered. “No major conflicts. We're both pretty focused on our careers right now.”
“Right, of course. And Artie's pursuing Olympic dreams while you're starting your professional football career. That must create some interesting dynamics.”
“We support each other. That's what friends do.”
When it was my turn for the individual interview, Sloane's questions felt more personal than I'd expected.
“You're training for the Olympics while living with one of the most eligible bachelors in professional football,” she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “That must be... distracting.”
“Not really,” I said, confused by the question. “Gryff's my best friend. We're both athletes, so we understand each other's schedules and priorities.”
“Of course. And you're both openly bisexual, which must create a unique understanding between you.”
“I guess? I mean, we've never really talked about it in those terms.”
“No? You don't discuss your dating lives, your attractions, what you're looking for in relationships?”
The questions were making me uncomfortable in a way I couldn't pinpoint. “We talk about everything, but we're just friends.”
“Just friends,” Sloane repeated, making a note on her tablet. “And you're not dating anyone currently?”
“No, I'm focused on training right now.”
“What about Gryff? Is he seeing anyone?”
“You'd have to ask him.” I did not like where this was going.
“I'm asking you. As his roommate and closest friend, you must have insight into his romantic life.”
“I don't really think about Gryff's romantic life,” I said, which wasn’t true. We talked about it, commiserating when it went wrong and how to make it better. “We're roommates, not... I don't know, whatever you're implying.”
“I'm not implying anything. Just trying to understand the dynamic between you.”
She was doing something all right.
After they left, I felt oddly unsettled. Sloane's questions stuck with me.
“Was that weird to you?” I asked as we cleaned up from filming.
“What part?”
“The way she was asking about our relationship. Like she was fishing for something.”
Gryff shrugged but also nodded. “Reality TV producers always want drama. She's probably hoping we'll have some massive roommate conflict she can film.”
“Yeah, probably.” I hope that’s all it was.
My phone rang, interrupting the conversation. Dad's name flashed on the screen, and I felt the familiar mix of excitement and anxiety that came with his calls. I usually only talked to him a few times a year. This was the second phone call this summer already.
“Hey, Da,” I said, settling onto the couch.
“Artemis, love. How's the training going?”
“Really well. I'm working with an amazing team, and Coach thinks I might be ready for the number eight position.”
“That's fantastic. Leadership on the field, just like when you were little.” His pride came through clearly, even across the ocean. “I've been thinking about our conversation from graduation.”
Here it was. The conversation I'd been avoiding thinking about.
“About Team GB?”
“Aye. The opportunity is still there, you know. The team would be lucky to have you. Gotta get something out of that dual citizenship.”
I know it was supposed to be a little joke, but I think that was really a way for him to feel more connected to me. “I know, Da.”
“It's just... it's been so long since we've lived in the same country. Since we've been able to see each other regularly. If you played for Great Britain, we could spend more time together. I could watch you compete, help with training, be part of your rugby life again.”
The longing in his voice made my chest tight. “I'm committed to Team USA, Dad. I've been training with them for two years.”
“I know, I know. And I'm proud of you regardless. But the transfer rules... you'd need three years between your last match for the US and playing for GB. If you're serious about considering it, you'd need to make that decision soon. Can't wait too long.”
Three years. That sounded like forever and no time at all, but also like a very concrete deadline. “I'll keep that in mind.”
“That's all I ask. Love you, hen.”
“Love you too, Da.”
After we hung up, I sat staring at my phone for a long moment. Gryff had finished cleaning and was now researching something on his laptop, probably football related.
Gryff flopped down on the couch across from me. “What’s up with Poppa Fraser? You’ve been talking to him more lately.”
“He wants me to consider playing for Great Britain instead of the US.” It would mean another big change in life, which was nothing new. I could do it. My mom wouldn’t like it though.
Gryff looked at me like he was trying to see inside my brain. “That's a big decision.”
“Yeah. He keeps bringing it up, and I know he misses me. We haven't lived in the same country since I was sixteen.”
“Do you want to play for Great Britain?”
I thought about it. “I don't know. Part of me does, because it would mean spending more time with him. But the US team feels like home now.”
When had anyone or anything ever felt like home? I don’t even know why I said that. Except that the one person in my life who would understand that concept was Gryff.
His gaze moved over my face, then down to the floor like he was thinking of how to fix this for me, and I appreciated that more than he could ever know. I was always the one who had to just take care of myself. It was exhausting. “You don't have to decide anything right now, right?”
“Sort of soon, though. If I wanted to transfer, I'd need three years between playing for the US and being eligible for GB. So the clock is ticking if I'm going to consider it seriously.”
Gryff moved closer on the couch. “You gotta do whatever feels right for you. Not what makes your dad… or your mom happy or what seems logical, but what actually feels right in your heart.”
I leaned back against the couch cushions, grateful for his steady presence. He listened and trusted me to figure things out.
“I need a little time to think on it. Besides moving to LA, this is really the first time I’m the one who has to make the decision to uproot my life or not. And to be honest, there’s something to be said for the stability my mom wanted so badly.”
He looked like he wanted to say something else but didn’t. Weird, because he knew he could say anything to me.
I picked my phone back up. “You know who else needs stability?” I found the cutest picture I could find and shoved the adorableness right up in his face. “Buster, that’s who.”
Gryff groaned and buried his face in the couch cushions. “Artie, no.”
“Buster is still available. And he’s got a friend who is a chocolate lab named Murphy.”
“We are not getting a dog.”
“Yet.”
“Ever.”
But he was smiling when he said it, and I was already bookmarking the rescue website.