“I think I have the basis for three or four songs. I like the way they’re sort of connected by the chord progression similarity but totally distinct with the beats I played around with.”
Aria pops upright, cracks the can of sparkling water, and drinks. In the pause, she falters. “Sorry! Did you want something? I have a tendency to just get lost in my own world when I really get into it. Hence why I don’t usually have visitors.”
“I count myself lucky to have the front-row seat. And I’m good on drinks.”
Aria drinks again, then props a hand on her hip. “What did you think of what you heard?”
“I thought it was cool. It’s definitely recognizable as your style, but it’s got a fresh twist. I think your people will love it.”
“Thanks.” For the first time in weeks, Aria feels sincerely confident about the future, about the prospect of making this next album something she’s proud to stand beside. “It means a lot coming from my ‘number one fan.’”
“Hey! No need for the air quotes. I wear the title as a badge of honor.”
Aria feels her cheeks heat, then the warmth spreads across her, and suddenly she’s desperate for fresh air. “I’m going to get a breather.”
She points toward the slider door and walks over to pull it open and step out onto the small patio outside. Griffin follows behind her into the cool fall air.
When Aria turns back to look at him, despite the crispness in the air, the warmth he inspired still lingers, like the outside elements have no effect.
Chapter 27
Griffin
Griffin isn’t sure there are words to describe what he just witnessed from Aria in her studio. There are people who are put on earth with very specific talents, and there isn’t a single doubt that Aria is made to create music. The media focuses on what she’s wearing, which events she attends, how much fans are willing to fork over for tickets to her most desirable shows. She is made into social media memes weekly, and her fashion choices are constantly making lists. When there’s distance, it’s easy to make it all about the superficial. But what Griffin just witnessed blows all of that out of the water.
Aria makes her own music like a baker makes their goods from scratch.
Despite rumors—ones Griffin never believed, mind you—Aria isn’t propped up by a team of behind-the-scenes writers and musicians who carry the real talent. She is a powerhouse from front to back.
When she turns to look at him, the wooded landscape past the patio frames her, and leaves fall in the trees as if announcing her presence. Aria is always beautiful, but today, up close and with her truest self on display—talents, fears, passion—she is gorgeous. The sunshine filters through the leaves and highlights her as if giving her a full-body halo.
Aria pulls in a deep breath. “The fresh air always feels good on a day like this.”
She rubs her arms, as if feeling the chill, despite her eagerness to get outside, and wanders the small patio. Griffin thinks about going to her and wrapping an arm around her. He isn’t wearing a jacket, or he’d offer it.
Aria stops at the edge of the patio and looks out into the thicket of trees. “Thanks for coming today.”
“Thanks for...” Aria has brought so much good to his life in the past weeks, it’s hard to know what Griffin should thank her for, but undoubtedly there’s a list. “Honestly, thank you for reminding me that there’s more to life than just football.”
Aria whips around, her eyes bright with surprise. “Yeah? I thought I was just pointing out the obvious.”
Griffin’s face breaks into a smile. “Sometimes my hyper focus helps with the game, but all of us guys have that ticking time clock, knowing that eventually our time on the field will end. You’ve shown me just how much there is out there. You’ve made me consider that I might have more to offer too.”
Aria closes the gap between them, gives his arm a friendly squeeze, and says, “Well, without your belief in me, what just happened in therewouldn’thave been a thing. Guess we’re a pretty good team after all.”
“Don’t tell Kelsey, or she’ll have a camera crew start following us behind the scenes.”
Aria throws back her head and laughs, and an ache to hold her runs through him.
Griffin can’t help himself. He reaches out and places his arms around her. “You were incredible in there, Aria. It blows my mind.”
Aria drops her gaze bashfully, and Griffin detects a pinkness rising in her cheeks. “It’s nice to share it with someone. There aren’t that many people I can trust.”
Griffin thinks of his own experiences with fame, the opportunists that’ve come his way. At least he can easily find friendship and shared experiences with teammates to whom he has little to offer besides friendship. But Aria is solo. What an extraordinary stroke of luck it’s been for him not only to have gotten to be close to Aria off script but also to get to know her, get to know the parts that stay hidden. He’s not one of a sea of friends as he’d assumed; he’s one of a few in a small circle.
“I know the whole ‘number one fan’ thing is a joke, but know that I do genuinely admire what you’re doing. Thank you for trusting me.”
Aria’s hands run from Griffin’s arms to his back, and she draws closer. Every inch of her that touches him is a sensation more intense than being tackled by a defensive player, like his nerves go haywire only for her. As if he’s programmed to desire her. Griffin’s breath deepens, and he can’t pull his eyes away from hers.
