Chapter 31 Griffin
Griffin
Small fences are arranged on the park lawn into multiple pens that house puppies, kittens, and even a handful of bunnies.
The animal adoption event this weekend is a follow-up to the gala where Griffin and Aria served as surprise celebrity guests.
He didn’t know having a bunny as a pet was a real thing, but when he kneels down to pet one, he is astounded by how soft its fur is.
The animal is sweet and quickly he understands the appeal.
He stays there, his tall figure casting the tiny bunny in shade, and uses two fingers to gently pet the space behind the bunny’s ears.
Without warning, a little girl appears at his side, and without introduction asks, “Are you going to get that bunny? I would get that bunny if I was a grown-up.”
Griffin looks over. She stares at him intently with deep brown eyes, her face framed in a bevy of tight chocolate curls. She wears a pink dress with sparkly leggings and tennis shoes he suspects probably light up in some manner.
Griffin sighs. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a backyard, so bunnies are out of the cards for me.”
The girl frowns. “You poor thing. I have a swing set and everything. Maybe you could come over sometime.”
As darling as this little girl is, Griffin knows better than to entertain invitations to her home, so he gets to his feet and scans the crowd. “That’s very nice of you to offer. Do you have a grown-up here with you?”
The girl points to a man wrangling a little boy who looks just like her and is scanning the busy park in a panic. “That’s my dad. My brother is a runner, and sometimes my mom puts him on a leash just like those puppies. Another reason we can’t have a bunny.”
“How about I walk you over there? I think your dad is looking for you.”
Griffin walks at the little girl’s side, pointing the way to her family, and as soon as the dad sets eyes on her, his entire disposition relaxes. He rushes, the little boy under his arm, to close the space.
“Giselle! I couldn’t find you!”
“I think she was lured over by the bunnies,” Griffin jokes. “They even got a massive guy like me.”
The dad sighs. “Thanks, man.” He looks at Griffin, turns away, then back again. “Hey, I know you!”
Griffin shrugs. In all honesty he hates these moments when he’s transformed from anonymous stranger to football celebrity. When he was a rookie, he loved the attention, but nowadays, there’s a big part of him that simply wants to be known for being himself. No football.
He holds out a hand to shake. “Griffin Hayes of the Chicago Wardens.” He nods his head toward the pavilion where some sound equipment is being hooked up. “I’m here for an appearance but stopped to check out the bunnies.”
“He doesn’t have a backyard,” Giselle says.
Her father shakes Griffin’s hand heartily. “Well, I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Hayes. I’m a big fan too. You’re a pro with kids as well as football, apparently.”
The small boy under his other arm begins to wriggle, and the dad and his children bid Griffin farewell.
He holds his head a little higher as he walks back over to the pavilion, considering the man’s comment about his talent with kids.
Aria also mentioned his attentiveness to the children when signing autographs, and Griffin wonders if there’s something there—room to develop his non-football talents.
As soon as his eyes lock with Aria’s—who is visible from behind the pavilion only because she’s leaning out—he forgets everything that was on his mind.
The day in the studio, the kiss, and his departure all flood back to him.
He was already walking in her direction, and as Griffin makes his way across the grass, dodging the occasional Frisbee or running child, he reminds himself of the talking points he’s prepared.
He’s almost to her, and she doesn’t betray a hint of inner whirling like he has going on inside him. Of course she’s calm about this. Aria is a professional. Not to mention, the kiss probably didn’t mean as much to her as it did to him, even if she felt sparks.
Griffin reaches her, and Aria stops before him. She wears jeans, sparkly Nikes that Giselle would approve of, and a sweater with a peacoat layered on top.
“Nice kicks,” he says.
Aria kicks out a foot. “Thanks.”
Without thinking too hard about it, Griffin pulls her into a side hug, then releases her quickly. “Be warned: If you go visit the bunnies, you might just bring one home.”
“Aww.” Aria almost sings the sound. “Unfortunately, we have coyotes that come through the woods, so we can’t.”
Griffin shudders playfully. “There are also puppies and kittens.”
“Did you hear I’m doing a world tour next year? When the new album comes out?”
Griffin thinks about next year, and it hits him that, by that time, he might not be seeing Aria much. Perhaps even not at all. He deflates. “You’ll have to hook me up with a US show.”
She looks up and smiles. “You know it.”
A quiet passes between them, and Griffin knows it’s now or never to broach the topic. Once they get going with the photo op, the fans will clue in to their presence, and there won’t be a private moment to talk before they’re loaded up into their separate rides home.
“About the other day—”
“It’s okay.” Aria is firm.
“I hope you know that upsetting you was the furthest thing from what I intended.”
Aria pulls her brow together. “You didn’t upset me, Griff. I mean, I think we need to discuss the kiss because it’s just not—”
“I shouldn’t have overstepped. I know you signed up for a professional relationship, and I always make it my goal to meet or exceed every professional ask.” It’s what Griffin’s known for in the league—his reliability.
“I’m not sure I’d call it an overstep. If you overstepped, then so did I.
” Griffin’s inner turmoil cools at Aria’s mention of her willing participation.
“I agree that we need to keep things professional. I, too, shoot for professional excellence, and I let you down too. We both have a lot going on in our careers, which also means a lot to lose.”
“I would never want to put you at risk of losing anything,” Griffin says. He means it, despite the feelings that he must deny himself in the process.
All of this talk of professionalism and deals and careers feels so icy against the warmth he holds inside for her.
Romance or not, Griffin adores Aria in a way that should transcend all of that.
Nevertheless, they’re both right. Contracts are in place.
Even if he has allowed himself to become entangled with Aria like he never planned, none of that is part of this deal.
Aria turns slowly and meets his eyes. “We’re having a great time being friends, and the media, the internet, love it. I love it too.”
Griffin nods. “And I want to be clear that I love having you as a friend too. Even though we have this agreement and we’re both set on keeping it professional, I’m not faking it.
You—especially the side not everyone gets to see—have lit up my life since you walked into it, opened my eyes to so much of the world I kept myself blind to. I appreciate you on so many levels.”
If he had his way, appreciate isn’t the word he’d choose, but for today it seems like the right one.
Aria’s face lights up, and for the first time today, it’s like all of her has shown up. “You’re incredible too, Griff. Without you, I might just be forever friendless. Which sounds like the title of a very sad movie.”
Griffin pulls her into a chaste side hug, but this time he holds her deeper and longer, like he’s holding on to the remains of something that’s escaping him. In the next breath they fall into their regular back-and-forth.
“So the bunny was a no, huh?”
“Regrettably. The condo board would have a fit.”
“If they found out.”
“Here you go again, testing the boundaries, Wilder.”
“Isn’t that what friends are for?”
When Griffin meets her eyes, Aria’s twinkle back at him.
It sends a thrill through him to see her eyes sparkle after all of the mental gymnastics he’d completed as he considered whether she’d request a hard break following the kiss.
Then again, as the delight runs through him, it leaves a nagging pain in its wake.
A pain that sounds like “if only.”
If only the kiss had been the start of more.