Chapter 10 Aria
Aria
Aria is happy to see the first text from Griffin come in.
He didn’t waste much time either, as it was only an hour or so ago that she gave Kelsey permission to share her personal number.
Aria sits in the corner of her comfortable sectional sofa that is set before the grand stone fireplace in her living room.
The cathedral ceiling peaks into an antique wooden beam, and white shiplap lines the walls.
Bailey drops down onto the sofa beside her in pink sweats—a set from the merch line from Aria’s last tour, one that was resold online for absurd prices. It made Aria’s blood boil to know some of her fans paid those prices.
“Want to watch a movie?” Bailey asks. She twirls her honey-brown hair into a loose bun and fastens it with a hair tie.
Aria’s eyes remain trained on her phone screen—on Griffin’s text. “Sure. Anything happy. No slasher or serial killer stuff.”
“Anything for you, sis. Though the moratorium will only last so long.”
Aria smiles. It’s funny how Bailey’s serial killer interests are so keen while her own flesh-and-blood sister can’t stomach the stuff. “You’re too good to me.”
Bailey snatches the remote from the coffee table and clicks through the options, humming and hawing along the way.
Griffin: Hey! How’s your week going?
Aria: Pretty good. No shows this week, so lots of R&R.
She stows the phone at her side.
Bailey turns to her, holding a hand out toward the TV. “Acceptable?”
Aria glances at the description. A classic rom-com about a single mom who takes a job at a bakery and falls in love with the head baker. “Sold!”
Bailey grabs for the blanket that lays crumpled in a heap at the end of the sofa and pulls it up over her.
She leans back and wiggles to get comfortable.
“You know, for the amount of romantic movies you watch and love songs you sing, one might be surprised you don’t have a lover of your own by now. ”
Aria pretends to huff, but a grin slips out instead.
It’s an act they do all the time, but they both know why Aria doesn’t date.
Where would she find the time? Even during this “rest” week she’s currently having, she will hit the gym to keep in performance shape, spend hours in vocal coaching, find opportunities to steal studio time so she can desperately paw around for material for this new album, get fittings for her next series of concerts, approve sets, and go through one hundred tapes for backup dancers.
Sure, she’s probably more hands-on than other performers, but she never has a spare minute.
Her phone buzzes beside her, and she retrieves it as she tells Bailey, “Maybe one day, honey.”
“And for now you have me.” It’s the same line they always end on.
Sisterly love is just as good as romantic love.
Aria unlocks her phone screen and taps on the new text from Griffin.
Have any time for your best friend this week? I have a scarf that belongs to you.
Oh, and Aria forgot to add her faux friendship with Griffin to the list of responsibilities.
Even friendships have to be part of an effort for her career.
Her heart squeezes a little when she considers slotting Griffin into this category.
By all practical accounts, he’s squarely in this category, but he’s also nice and enjoyable to be with, and she feels mean-spirited even mentally begrudging their appointments.
Thus far, he’s been plenty more fun than most tasks on her to-do list.
Aria types her response. In the background, while having coffee at the bakery, the female lead in the rom-com is overheard bemoaning the fact that she can’t find a job. Bailey is complaining about the fact that the woman also missed the blatantly obvious Help Wanted sign hanging behind her.
Aria pauses her texting, reaches out, and pokes Bailey. “Stop having such an ice-cold heart. Can you imagine how tired she is? She’s got three kids and an ex who still lists her as his emergency contact.”
Bailey laughs. “Fair enough.”
Aria resumes her texting, types, deletes, types, and finally sends:
Aria: Tomorrow afternoon?
The reply comes in almost immediately.
Griffin: Sure thing! I have morning practice, so I can come by afterward to drop off the scarf.
Aria had assumed she’d left the scarf at the venue and hadn’t yet been bothered to chase it down.
Her mind wanders back to the gala night.
Griffin’s chivalry, his generosity, his reluctance to tout his own success.
She can’t remember the last time she met anyone in the public eye who was that grounded.
How on earth does he stay that way with all the glory he’s given as the Wardens’ golden boy?
Surely it says something about the depth of who he is.
But Aria stops herself before she gets lost in thoughts of Griffin Hayes.
Again, her to-do list generates items to be checked much faster than she can eliminate them, so she can’t let herself lose focus. That’s where quality slips.
Aria: Looking forward to it, my BFF.
She smiles to herself as she hits Send.
She taps on the emoji page and selects a winky face with the tongue poked out, and before she overthinks it, she hits Send again.
A rush of uncertainty thrums inside her. Is she making herself look like an idiot? Just as she’s determined that she is, in fact, making herself look like a total nerd—and the furthest thing from the cool, unshakable Aria Wilder—the phone buzzes in her hand.
Griffin had marked the wacky emoji with a heart.
Aria’s shoulders settle, and a smile crosses her face.
He really is such a great guy.