Chapter 12 Aria
Aria
Aria was never a sporty girl—probably to very little surprise. She was always a music girl, a poetry girl, a performer. In fact, she hated team sports in PE so much that she made every excuse possible to sit on the sidelines with her notebook.
Despite the deep-seatedness of her resistance to sports, there’s something about Griffin that brings a surprising promise of fun to it. And he’s right: She has more than earned a break by now.
Aria drops her hands from her hips and marches toward Griffin. “Well, I guess why not? But if I get injured, you might have to step in and do my next show for me.”
Griffin laughs, and he sounds like a giddy youngster. Aria can’t help but smile back. “We’re just throwing the ball. No tackles.”
Aria plants her legs wide, claps, and says, “All right, give it to me.”
Griffin tosses the ball her way gently, telescoping it directly into her held-out hands. When the ball lands with a satisfying plop in her hands, a surprising thrill runs through her. She yelps.
“I told you, right?” Griffin says with a playful raised brow. “Now lob it back.”
Aria rears back her arm and lobs the ball. She brings her hands to her mouth as she watches it fly far too high, like a rocket bound for the stars, and finally shuttle down to earth about fifteen feet behind Griffin.
Aria parts her hands covering her mouth. “I told you I was a beginner.”
Griffin lopes to the ball, then jogs over to Aria. “Here.” He starts to hand her the ball but then pauses, assessing. “May I?”
Aria gives a quick nod. Griffin wraps his wide, strong hand around hers and places her fingers gently along the laces, one by one. “This is the placement you want every time. It’ll make sure the ball doesn’t go wild.”
Aria is primally aware of Griffin’s closeness, his large figure at her side. The tingle in her skin underneath his fingertips. Everything else falls away, and it’s just them in the world.
She nods at his directions. “Got it.”
“Now”—Griffin lightly takes her arm and repositions it—“this is how you want to pull back, find your target with your eye, and then release.”
His arms are wrapped around Aria like a hug, and her heart beats faster. When Griffin breaks away, then jogs to his receiving position, the glow inside releases then shrinks.
Griffin stands before her, hands out, nodding encouragingly. “You got this!”
Aria follows his directions, and when she releases the ball, it goes almost directly into Griffin’s hands. He reaches out and snatches it, then leaps in the air, crying out in celebration. “Touchdown pass from Wilder to win the game!”
Aria laughs, eyes dropping bashfully. “Okay, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Hey, you have to celebrate the wins when they come.”
“I don’t disagree.”
As the two toss the ball back and forth, Aria focuses on practicing the technique Griffin showed her, but she also thinks about him.
About having fun with him. So much of Aria’s life is scheduled and optimized, a requirement for fitting in all the components her career requires.
But now, in this unplanned moment of Griffin sticking around, making fun out of an unglamorous task, it feels like experiencing something brand-new.
Maybe it makes Aria sound boring to admit that she’s such a perfectionist workaholic that she never really has fun, but it’s also not entirely untrue. To be fair, her difficulty making and keeping friends absolutely plays into that as well.
Still, as Aria watches Griffin’s face as he throws and receives the ball, the grin that never truly leaves his face, the eagerness in his eyes, she can’t help but feel pulled to him.
Despite the odds, it seems this professional-football-player-turned-PR-stunt-partner is someone Aria actually really enjoys being with.
As soon as she begins to break a sweat, Aria calls an end to the activity, citing the fact that she already completed her scheduled time in the gym for today. Griffin doesn’t fight it, and after they stop at the garage fridge for a couple of cold drinks, they get back to the boxes.
Aria is surprised at how locked in Griffin gets as they sort through boxes.
“Grab anything comfortable or easily wearable, which should be most stuff out here. The super-glam stuff is usually on loan, or I send it back if I won’t wear it—that way someone else can. So, think cute casual.”
Griffin works alongside Aria, his brow knitting in concentration as he assesses the items he pulls out. He sorts through a box and refastens the lid. “This is all good to go. It’s mostly sweats and workout gear.”
“You’re the best,” Aria says. She’d planned to do this on her own, and although she’s grateful for the practical help, it’s the company that truly makes the difference.
“Just making good on my promise,” Griffin says.
“I’m sure you have a million better things to be doing.”
Griffin stops, looks around, and shakes his head. “Nope. This is right where I want to be.”
“I guess the golden-boy rumors are true.” Aria warms as if his golden effect is the sun radiating upon her.
“Don’t ask my mother. She has plenty of evidence otherwise.”
Aria shoots Griffin a playful look, then gets back to her sorting. She won’t say it out loud, but she doesn’t believe him. Aria suspects that Griffin is being modest, that he really and truly is golden.
If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have offered to help, he wouldn’t have stayed after he handed off the scarf, and he wouldn’t have even made the drive out. No, all the evidence points to Griffin Hayes being just as much a gentleman as promised.
Perhaps even better.