Chapter 44 Aria
Aria
Aria has a team meeting on Monday morning to discuss the schedule for her upcoming tour.
Since her team emailed over the details in advance, it was mostly a review for her.
Nevertheless, it served as a productive note on which to start the week.
After a nutritious lunch of salmon, rice, and vegetables—thanks to Chef Bailey—Aria locks herself up in her studio, determined to make some progress.
Aria still hasn’t heard anything else from Griffin. He must be focusing on recovery as he’d so clearly stated. It sends a sharp pain through her chest every time the realization hits that he’s pushed her away, and every time she mentally walks down memory lane.
The first viral video of Griffin singing passionately to “Glass Heart” still makes her smile.
When she first saw it, Aria dismissed it as cute but inconsequential.
Even when they started spending PR time together, Aria kept it categorized as “cute but inconsequential.” Maybe she changed—maybe Griffin helped her change—but back then she didn’t really consider the prospect of a real connection.
She’d been too scared, her walls too firmly planted, to consider it.
Then there was the chivalry at the animal gala, but really it was more than that.
It was consideration. Griffin knew as well as Aria did that she could’ve easily called someone from her team.
She wasn’t without options. But Griffin offered a ride, inconvenienced himself, and in the process they had some great conversation.
Aria thinks of all of the small moments they shared, swapping thoughts and stories, sharing coffee and snacks, laughing over tiny things, learning each other.
In fact, aside from Bailey, Griffin might be the person who knows her best.
Aria remembers them together in this space, and her heart flutters.
She wills herself not to go there, but she can’t help it.
She lets her mind go to the kiss. Her gaze wanders to the sliding doors.
In some ways it’s hard to fathom that it occurred on that little patio outside, the one that now sits bare and lonely, cluttered with long-fallen leaves.
Aria squeezes her eyes shut tight. How could she let it slip through her fingers? Inside she simmers with frustration that she didn’t clue in to what she had before her sooner.
Like she’s done reliably for years, Aria goes to the one place she can spill all of her thoughts when it feels too much: her writing. She settles into her writing spot, tucking the notebook in her lap, grabs her pen, and moves her hand feverishly across the page.
It doesn’t come all at once, but in words, concepts, then eventually lyrics.
She writes, crosses out, draws arrows for inserts and rearrangements.
Aria pours all of her feelings, her self-doubt, her hopes into the words.
She tells herself no one has to see it if it’s awful.
For now it’s only her and the page. And in that blessed space, it comes together.
Until you came along,
I was living in slow motion.
Playing pop star like they wanted,
For them and their devotion.
But in the dark of night,
I tossed and turned, all wrong.
It started to make sense,
Only as you came along.
In trying to be perfect,
All I did was make me small.
You told me, more than once,
Go ahead and give your all.
Things started to go right,
Me letting go and staying true.
But then you left me in the dark,
And now I know something new.
It wasn’t just the music,
Not the hope you sparked in me.
It was everything about you,
I’m like a lock, and you the key.
You’re a flame lit inside me,
And I ask you please come home.
Everything is brighter by your side,
Together, not alone.
I don’t care about the music
Or about the final score.
All I know is that without you,
I will always be wanting more.
Aria drops back into the pillowy couch and lets her notebook slide to her lap. That’s just it: She wants more.
But the song. She looks back over the words just to be certain she didn’t imagine it. That she has, in fact, crafted exactly the sort of song her heart’s been yearning for. A song that’s honest and raw. A song that’s also romantic. Aria knows her fans will love it.
But her own thoughts trip her up: Romantic.
If Aria’s being honest in her music, it’s probably also about time she’s honest with herself: She has undeniable feelings for Griffin, and she doesn’t mean friendship.
Even if it “makes sense,” no part of Aria’s heart wants Griffin in the friend zone. She wants all of him. His company, his laughter. Dress-up events, dress-down events. Simple at-home hangouts. She wants him close. His arms around her.
Kisses on the patio.
She’s even willing to endure the online chatter, the criticism and speculation.
The fact that the tabloids will blast them both just for clicks.
Griffin, of all the people she’s ever known, is someone who could endure it, someone who would know to slap on the blinders and ignore it. She can trust him.
This whole time, Griffin has been a safe, reliable place for her, a place she blossoms.
Aria racks her brain trying to think about her past relationships. None of them compare even in the slightest. Her feelings for Griffin are the strongest she’s ever felt for someone else.
She pulls in a shaky breath when the realization hits.
Aria is in love with Griffin Hayes.
Immediately, Aria is flooded by doubts. He’s already pulled away, so how could he want more? Is she setting herself up for heartbreak like she’s already endured time and time again? What if he rejects her? What if she loses what remains of their friendship in the process?
Stop, Aria commands herself. Never before has she felt this way, and she’ll be damned if she leaves it up to fate. For better or worse, she’s going to tell Griffin.
It’s true that he might not feel the same.
But Aria’s also not the type to stay in the wings and let something she wants pass her by.
Aria gets up and looks around the room until she finds her phone nestled between the mixing boards.
As she pulls up Griffin’s contact information, she begs the universe to align whatever stars are required for the very best outcome.
She hits the button to dial.
The ring sounds exceptionally loud and clunky in her ear as Aria waits. Her heart picks up, blood pumping faster through her in anticipation. It rings and rings.
“Come on, Griff, pick up,” Aria whispers to herself—or any celestial power willing to lend a hand.
Finally, her call goes to voicemail. Aria hadn’t considered the possibility of voicemail, and she’s usually much more of a texter than a message leaver, but in the name of giving this a real, true effort, after the beep, she speaks.
“Hey, Griff. Just calling to check in. Well, that, but also there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Give me a call when you have a minute, okay? It’ll be good to hear from you.”
Aria’s palms are sweaty when she taps the icon to disconnect and sets the phone in her palm.
She sits still for a moment, wondering if he’ll call right back.
It’s difficult to know. As she sits in the silence and watches the phone screen go dark, Aria can’t help but wonder.
Could it be too late to fix what they had?
Have they drifted too far apart from each other and away from their kiss?
Aria is pulled from her thoughts when Bailey calls down the stairs. “You still alive down there or what?”
Aria’s shocked to see that it’s past five o’clock already. “I’m probably overdue for a break.”
“Good, because I’m getting hungry.”
Aria grins as she starts to climb the stairs. “You’re always thinking about food in some way, shape, or form.”
Bailey, cast in the warm light of the kitchen behind her, shrugs. “Well, one of us needs to make sure you’re not wasting away down there.”
At the top of the stairs, Aria pulls Bailey into her arms and squeezes. Griffin or no Griffin, she is so lucky to have her sister. She’s probably partially right about the meal-skipping part, especially when Aria gets in the zone.
But also, and even more so, without Bailey she wouldn’t even know what love is. Not even when it walks into her life by way of a sing-along gone viral.