“The two of you were incredible at the gala. Another viral moment. Well, almost viral. The fans loved it. You’ve been dubbed ‘best friends’ just like we wanted.”
“She’s fun, that’s for sure. And I didn’t call to try to get out of the gig.”
“Okay, well, how can I help?”
“So, both times we’ve gone onstage together, she’s led the way, totally guided me through it so I don’t look like a clown—”
“The fans love that part too. Some of them say you’re her protégé. Did you see that clip from theHot Girlspodcast where they were speculating about whether you’re trying to get into the music industry?”
Griffin squeezes his temples with his free hand. “I didn’t, and it’s probably for the best. None of them want to hear me sing. I can promise that.”
Mike laughs. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let you stray down that path. You might be built for direct hits, but you’re not built for that.”
Griffin pulls in a breath. “I wanted to see if you could connect me with Aria. Either get her phone number or give her mine? She left a scarf behind after the gala, and I'd like to get it back to her.”
“I’m sure that’d be fine. And probably a good plan. I’ll also make sure you get the talking points ASAP.”
“Plus, she can help me prep for the show. I don’t want to be thinking about it all week.” Griffin’s statement is true, but it’s not his only motivation for getting her phone number. He’d genuinely like to talk to her before next week.
“You’re right. We both agreed this would not get in the way of the game or your training. The last thing we want is for you to fumble a catch because you’re worried about doing a bit onThe Late Night Show.”
“Precisely.”
“All right, man. I’ll talk to her people and get back to you.”
“Thanks. Take care.”
Griffin hits the button to disconnect, and he can’t help but notice the lightness that’s filled his chest. Maybe it’s the release of tension over the talk show appearance, knowing that he’llbe able to talk it through with Aria before. They can practice before they go on. Do guests typically do that? His guess is most likely not.
When he thinks about flopping on national television, a wave of nerves hit him again. He reminds himself that he does a version of this every weekend during the season. With football, he gets lost in the game, consumed by it so much that the rest melts away.
Perhaps it’s not entirely different from the way it feels to stand beside Aria on a stage, the rest fading into the background as she pulls him into the bright light that surrounds her, the one that emanates from her.
Stop, he tells himself.
He’s doing the crush thing again.
Griffin’s phone dings with a notification in the cup holder, and at the next light, he lifts it to check.
Mike:Here’s Aria’s number. She says text her whenever.
Griffin smiles the whole drive home.
Chapter 10
Aria
Aria is happy to see the first text from Griffin come in. He didn’t waste much time either, as it was only an hour or so ago that she gave Kelsey permission to share her personal number. Aria sits in the corner of her comfortable sectional sofa that is set before the grand stone fireplace in her living room. The cathedral ceiling peaks into an antique wooden beam, and white shiplap lines the walls.
Bailey drops down onto the sofa beside her in pink sweats—a set from the merch line from Aria’s last tour, one that was resold online for absurd prices. It made Aria’s blood boil to know some of her fans paid those prices.
“Want to watch a movie?” Bailey asks. She twirls her honey-brown hair into a loose bun and fastens it with a hair tie.
Aria’s eyes remain trained on her phone screen—on Griffin’s text. “Sure. Anything happy. No slasher or serial killer stuff.”
“Anything for you, sis. Though the moratorium will only last so long.”
Aria smiles. It’s funny how Bailey’s serial killer interests are so keen while her own flesh-and-blood sister can’t stomach the stuff. “You’re too good to me.”
