Chapter 29 Griffin
Griffin
Griffin makes plans with Elliott to stop at Enzo’s for dinner after practice on Friday. The Wardens have a bye this week. Usually, Griffin gets antsy on those weeks, wishing for a game even when his body demands rest. He’s always better when he stays in his routines and focused on his goals.
But usually he wouldn’t be fresh off a kiss with Aria Wilder.
“So, did you kiss her?” Elliott sits across from Griffin at a sticky-top table.
Griffin bobs his head from side to side. “Yes. But also I think there was a lean in from her side. It wasn’t as if I swooped in fast and surprised her. We were both in the moment. Like a mutual thing.”
Elliott sips on the foamy top of his beer, a treat he only affords himself on a bye week during season. “Huh.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it?”
Griffin has already filled Elliott in on Aria’s reaction to the kiss and his hasty departure following it. Memories of it have bounced in his mind, ricocheting around without any resolution for the past twenty-four hours. He even dreamed about it last night.
Aria looked so shocked by it that surely her feelings don’t mirror Griffin’s.
Even if there’s a special fondness between them, her feelings were obviously mixed about the kiss.
She wasn’t jumping for joy, throwing her arms around his neck, or going in for another.
More than anything, Aria seemed confused.
Of course Griffin wishes the only response from Aria was continued affection, but he understands.
Rationally, he, too, sees all of the ways something between them would be set up to fail.
Their established PR deal, their becoming coworkers in some sense, the media storm that would come following a relationship coming to light, and the impacts it could have on their careers.
The potential for distraction as they go for their goals.
There’s a reason coaches love the married or single players—there’s less chance for relationship drama.
“I don’t know. Other players have stranger entrances into relationships. Remember Andre Block and the physical therapist?” Elliott says.
“Do I remember? It was perfect until he broke up with her, and no one knew she still had the code to the locker room door.”
The locker room was only the beginning, and the personal drama turned work drama tanked his season. The following year, Block couldn’t find his footing again, and he never quite got back to his previous performance level.
“Yeah. I was just thinking about the beginning where they got that spread in Sports Life Magazine.”
“It’s all fun and games until it falls apart.”
Griffin might be trying to make friends with the notion that football isn’t forever and that there has to be more to him than the game.
But he also doesn’t want to bring about a premature ending to the season.
Griffin—forever responsible and levelheaded—should know better than to start a high-profile relationship mid-season.
One of Enzo’s staff delivers steaming hot pizza to the table, along with plates and rolls of silverware, and the men thank him before he turns to go.
Elliott slides a slice of sausage pizza onto his plate. “Fair enough. Cassandra’s no pushover, and she respects the need for peace during the season. It may not always work out, but it’s also not impossible.”
Griffin fills his plate. “True.”
The pair eat in silence, a ritual they and the rest of the team are used to, especially on the tail of a hard practice.
Griffin takes in the place and how different it looks from when he was here with Aria.
Enzo had really pulled out the stops to dial up the atmosphere that night.
Tonight, without candlelight, the interior is warm but doesn’t capture the same sparkle.
The tables are pushed together into strange arrangements—a hangover of whatever constellation of players stopped by earlier.
The fireplace isn’t lit. In some way it makes that evening between him and Aria feel like something that happened somewhere else, to someone else. On a planet in an alternate universe.
After both of the guys have downed two slices, their rapid pace of eating slows, and the conversation resumes between them.
“So, what’s your plan?” Elliott asks. “I know you have one.”
Griffin would usually have a plan, but since Aria came into his life, she’s recast a lot of the way he sees his world. He wants to have a plan, but he hasn’t quite arrived at it yet.
“I’ll see her at the humane society tomorrow. There’s a pet adoption event they asked us to make an appearance at, so we’re doing the friend thing.”
Truth be told, Griffin’s nerves are piqued over this engagement. Fortunately, they’ll be surrounded by adoptable puppies and kittens, but he knows there’s only so long they can serve as a distraction before they have to talk about what happened.
He already has a sense of what Aria will say: that they shouldn’t mess up what they’ve got—the arrangement, maybe even the friendship—and he agrees.
Griffin worries that he would be crossing a line, taking advantage of the professional relationship that’s been established in an agreement set forth by PR. He never would want to be that guy.
Both Aria’s feelings—her personal ones, but also her desire to be respected professionally—and his reputation are of the utmost importance to him.
Griffin would be beside himself if Aria ever felt like he was being opportunistic. Of course the kiss and the feelings smoldering behind it were genuine, but the barriers still remain. Aria has already been burned by enough people she’s let in; Griffin can’t accidentally become one of those too.
“Honestly, I’m going to try to get back in the friend zone. Even though I can’t believe I’m saying that,” Griffin says, then takes a bite of his crust.
“Dang, man.” Elliott draws out each syllable in commiseration. “Can you believe your celebrity crush came so close to being more?”
Even if he’s also a celebrity himself, it truly feels wild.
But when Griffin stops and thoughtfully considers Aria, he’s also struck by how grateful he is to simply know her.
To hopefully still call her a friend. She doesn’t need to be romantically connected to him to be all of the wonderful things she is, and if friends is the closest they’ll ever get, Griffin will be satisfied with it.
“What is it that Coach says? ‘Build me a bridge and get over it.’” Griffin even impersonates the head coach’s style of speech.
The men burst into laughter, and with it, some of Griffin’s trepidation leaves him.
Being able to laugh about it is a good first step.