Chapter 18 Aria
Aria
Mario Villarreal is wearing so much stage makeup that Aria wonders if it’ll melt like hers once did under the Texas sun.
Surely he knows what he’s doing; he does four episodes a week.
And as he opens the show and eventually introduces her, then Griffin (to the studio audience they’ve already warmed up), her thoughts are pulled away from his makeup.
“So.” Mario slaps his palm on the wooden desk. “This friendship between you two is fairly new.”
“Yes, sir, it is! Griffin came to one of my concerts, and only after my incredible fans caught him on video belting out the lyrics to ‘Glass Heart’ was it brought to my attention that he even knew who I was.”
“Well, I think most of the world knows who you are by now,” Griffin says at the other end of their shared couch.
The one in the greenroom was so rinky-dink that Griffin couldn’t even sit on it, but this one is deep, wide, and sturdy.
Fit for guests of any build. Despite the space remaining between them, Aria feels his presence close to her.
Griffin is like that, taking up more than just physical space.
He has a force to him. When he sat across from her in the coffee shop, he practically eclipsed the rest of the world.
“Did your friends know you were an Aria Wilder fan before the video went viral?” Mario asks.
Griffin nods slowly but deeply. “I’ve yet to live it down for blasting ‘Get Over It’ in the locker room after our playoff loss in Minnesota last year. At least it created a little bit of a distraction for the guys.”
“Griffin, you’re known as a golden-hearted player in the league. What’s your say on that?”
Griffin tugs at his collar, and his Adam’s apple bobs hard. Of all the potential questions that might spark nerves, why this one? Journalists often throw difficult questions his way before high-stakes games. This question is basically a compliment wrapped up as a question.
“Well, I don’t know. I . . .”
Griffin pauses, his eyes briefly flicker to Aria’s, and she cuts in.
“May I, Mario?” She gives him a playful look. “Because I have had a front-row seat over the last couple weeks of Griffin Hayes off the field, I can attest to the fact that the rumors are true: He’s not only the golden boy, but he has the golden heart.”
The crowd erupts into applause, and eventually Aria has to hold up a hand to ask for quiet.
“He is kind and generous. On a whim, he matched donations for homeless animals with me. He helped me out when I found myself stuck without a ride. He’s the most down-to-earth guy I’ve met—and yet, he’s also a professional athlete on television every Sunday.”
“Note for anyone trying to impress Aria Wilder: It’s about character, folks!” Mario announces.
Aria smiles, but she can’t help but wonder about his statement. What else would it be about for her? Is her image that curated around glam and special-effects shows that people assume there isn’t more to her? This is when a personal, deep album drop might come in handy.
“That’s all very complimentary. And I’m lucky to have found such a generous friend in Aria, but that’s enough about me.”
Griffin looks so adorably awkward that Aria can’t help herself. “Y’all want to know a secret? Griffin Hayes blushes if you give him too many compliments.”
Griffin dives into the couch—presumably to cover his blushing cheeks.
“Perhaps a strategy for rival football teams? Aria, you aren’t leaking tactics that’ll hurt our beloved Wardens now, are you?”
Aria sucks in a loud gasp and pulls a hand to her chest. “I would never! All I want for Griff is for him to dodge the hits, catch the ball, and get a touchdown every now and then.”
The crowd applauds.
“Aria, have you always been a football fan?”
“Probably to little surprise, no. But I just watched the game yesterday, and I was very proud of the Wardens. The guys fought well, but it wasn’t their night.”
Griffin has emerged from the couch next to her. “Really?”
All of this is for show—both of them know it—but something about the way Griffin says it lets Aria know that he’s genuinely asking.
“Of course. I wanted to support my friend. I had heard it was going to be a tough game, and what do friends do if not support each other?”
Admittedly, Aria could’ve skipped watching the game and caught the highlights this morning, but she wanted to see it herself. She can’t help but press herself into this role of friend; it’s more fun than she’s had in a long time.
“Well, let me know if you want to come to the stadium. I’ve got excellent friends and family box seats, and the nachos up there are top notch.”
“You had me at nachos.” Aria smiles over at him, and heat blossoms in her chest. The smile, the fun, it’s all thrumming inside her like something very real.
“And don’t skip the jalapenos.”
“What, are they fancy?”
“They’re Wardens jalapenos, so, yes?”
“Dang. I definitely don’t have my own line of spicy peppers.” Aria looks off and cups her chin thoughtfully. “I’ve got to make a note on my phone to ask my publicist about that.”
“So,” Griffin starts, then stops, and when Aria turns to look into his eyes, they glint at her.
It feels like an invitation. To what? She’s not sure.
Probably fun and friendly. Still, there’s an edge to the way he speaks next that makes her wonder if there’s more.
A thrill rushes through her like a sizzle of electricity.
“Can I count on you at the Wardens’ stadium on Sunday? ”
Aria’s heart takes off beating quicker, and her breath catches in her throat.
It’s like how she feels at the end of a concert, after going full out on the grand finale, giving it her all.
But tonight she’s simply sitting here, still and unmoving.
The only force encompassing her is Griffin Hayes’s indisputable presence.
“Absolutely. All I need is fan wear.”
“A number 13 jersey will be on your doorstep tomorrow.”
Aria’s insides balloon with lightness. A jersey with his number feels like being invited into a special club. Sure, there are thousands of 13 Wardens jerseys out there—Griffin has his own contingent of fans—but one hand-delivered is a special friend perk.
“You’re such a good friend, Griff,” Aria says, feeling the truth in each word as she says it. “I’m such a lucky lady!”
“The pleasure’s all mine.” Griffin’s voice rumbles deeply in his reply, and their eyes stay locked on each other. He grins. “Hopefully the fans will capture your own viral moment this time. You know, to repay the favor.”
Aria bursts into laughter, the belly-deep kind that’s usually reserved for Bailey. “I guess it would only be fair.”
“Well, thank you both, Aria Wilder and Griffin Hayes, for coming on The Late Night Show. We can’t wait to continue watching your budding friendship online.” Mario looks into the camera, and it slides closer to him. “I’m Mario Villarreal, and this is The Late Night Show. Good night, everyone.”
“Cut!” the stage manager shouts.
The crowd begins to chatter, phones pulled out to check notifications, and Griffin rests back onto the couch, letting his head fall backward.
Aria just watches him. This interest of hers is growing. Undeniably so. She feels new things around Griffin. Is this what real friendship feels like? Has she never experienced it the right way? Or could this be . . . something else?
Griffin pulls himself upright, and Aria rushes to look away, hiding her lingering eyes. “Hey. Want to grab something to eat after this?” he asks.
“So the ‘treat yourself’ thing was legit?”
He shrugs. “Only on special occasions.”
“You’re on.”
The same young man wearing the sweats arrives back at their side, and the two are escorted offstage. Only this time, both of them hurry behind him without any prodding required.