“It was loud.” Aston laughs, his voice rich and relaxed. “And competitive. We grew up on a ranch in Texas, which I’m sure you know, so we didn’t have a whole lot of time for sitting around. Our dad has been a cowboy and a rancher his whole life, so we started doing chores at a young age. Waking up before dawn, hauling hay, fixing fences. Dad didn’t care if we’d had a game the night before; the cattle still had to be fed in the morning. I think that’s where the work ethic for all of us came from. Our mom and dad didn’t tolerate laziness.”
“And the athletic pipeline doesn’t seem to be stopping with the four of you,” Sam leads into the transition smoothly. “Your two younger brothers are still at home. Do they plan to follow in your footsteps?”
“Yeah, Austin is a hell of a baseball player,” Aston says, his eyes lighting up with genuine pride. “He’s got a nasty fastball, so he’ll likely play in college next year. And the youngest, Jesse, plays football and baseball. We’re not sure where he’ll end up yet. He’s probably the most athletic out of all of us, but I’d never admit that to his face.”
I soften a little, listening to him talk about his family. The Griffith family is amazing—fiercely loyal and completely grounded despite the fame and big-money contracts. During my short time around them when I was dating Ace, I saw how protective they were of one another. They’re a tight unit.
“Now, we can’t talk about your family without mentioning your twin,” Sam says, her voice dropping into a more intimate, conversational tone. “Ace is having a spectacular start down in Florida. What’s that bond like, being twins in the same league, playing within the same conference?”
Aston looks over at me, our eyes locking. The relaxed, sprawling posture he’s had this whole interview tightens just a fraction. He keeps his expression controlled for the camera, but I can see the intensity in his eyes.
“Our bond is unbreakable,” Aston says, his voice carrying a weight that goes straight to my chest. He keeps his answers about Ace short, but the sincerity is undeniable. “We’re twins. We’ve shared everything since the womb. I praise him every chance I get because I know how hard he works, and he knows how hard I work. We’re incredibly close; no matter what side of the line we’re on, that’ll never change.” He watches me the entire time he speaks, almost like he’s testing me.
“Sam,” I say in her earpiece, my voice cool but laced with humor, “we’re almost done, but let’s throw him off a little and see if we can show his sense of humor. Ask him a couple of the lighter questions we discussed earlier. First one, ambition.”
Sam doesn’t even flinch at the question, a wicked smile spreading on her face as she leans forward. “Aston, we’re wrapping up, but we have a few rapid-fire questions for you.”
“Okay, hit me,” he says, laughing.
She nods. “First one is: what do you think your life would look like if you were ambitious?”
Aston blinks, but then lets out a booming laugh, staring directly at me again. He knows exactly where that question camefrom. His body shakes with his laugh, a handsome smirk popping on his face as he takes the teasing in stride.
“Wow. Ambitious, huh?” Aston murmurs, his eyes dancing with humor as he stares at me. “Well, Samantha, if I were ambitious, I suppose I wouldn’t be content with just terrorizing quarterbacks. I’d probably be an iron-fisted field producer who makes everyone around me work double time just to keep up.”
The crew lets out a collective chuckle, and I can’t help the smile that breaks through my lips.
Good answer, Griff, I think, then speak into Sam’s ear again. “Next one, athletic.”
Sam grins again, loving this. “Fair and definitely shows ambition. Second one: If you were athletic, what sport would you play?”
This time, the entire camera crew snickers out loud. Aston belts out another rough laugh as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes locked on mine, not Sam’s. The media room lights catch the white of his teeth when he smiles at me, the joke warming the space between us into something … else entirely.
“I’ve seen this before on social media, but I’ll play. If I were athletic?” Aston repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Man, that’s tough. If I had an ounce of talent in my body, I’d probably try something relaxing. Like professional hockey. That way, I could just skate around and let my brother Aiden do all the heavy lifting.”
“An excellent choice,” Sam laughs, wrapping her hands together.
I speak into her earpiece again. “Ask him about his superstition with the red tape on his fingers.”
“And a final one: What is the superstition behind the red-taped fingers?” She smiles, waiting for his answer.
His smile is crooked as he looks down and grins to himself. He sways, as if he doesn’t know if he wants to let the world inon his secrets. He looks back at her. “No one’s ever asked me that.”
“Based on your reaction, it looks like there’s a good meaning behind it.”
“Well, I started taping my fingers in high school, and it was usually white. But the red …” He pauses and licks his lips, grinning as he stares off, as if reminiscing. “There was a girl I met in college who worked for the campus media station. The day I met her on the sidelines, she was wearing a red sweater. I used red tape on my fingers that day and won the game, and I haven’t used anything other than red tape since.”
“And I bet you haven’t stopped thinking about the girl.”
“Never.”
My chest rises as I gasp and cover my mouth. I remember the day I met Aston. It was my first day at the station and my first time working a sideline. I wore red that day. I guess some moments in your life are impossible to forget.
“Aston, thank you so much for sitting down with us and sharing a glimpse inside your life. Best of luck against Archie and the Cowboys this Sunday.”
“Thank you, Sam. Appreciate it,” Aston says as we cut the tape.
“And we’re clear. Great run, everyone.”
