A laugh falls out of Griffin. “You’re kidding.”
“You have a career-threatening injury, and all the world wants is to see you out and about with Aria Wilder, being you and having fun,” Elliott says. “Must be the life of a pop star. No wonder everyone stops caring about the music past a certain point.” He rushes to add, “Not that Aria’s music isn’t killer, mind you. I’m talking about others.”
“I had them cancel our events for now, what with the injury. It’s been rough, and I don’t want to show up for the things—for Aria—looking like a miserable loser.”
“And you know what the Aria and Griffin—also known as ‘GriffAria’ in certain circles—fans would say?”
“Lay it on me,” Griffin says, smiling in a way that reaches the rest of him for the first time since the injury.
“That’s what besties are for!”
Elliott hoots in laughter, and Griffin can’t help but join.
“I’m not really sure I knew what I was signing myself up for,” Griffin says, thinking briefly back on where his connection to Aria started.
“It might be just what you need at this point,” Elliott replies, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
“I have to see to the injury first. Then we’ll get back in the swing of things. Maybe I’ll chat with Aria about making a joint post on social media or something. Or we can stage a ‘bestie time.’ I’ll come up with something during my many hours of sitting.”
“Fair enough, man. Well, I’m heading to the showers, so I’ll see you soon.”
“Sure thing.”
“Enzo’s one night this week?”
“You bet.”
Griffin leaves the stadium that night feeling better than he has in a long time. Probably it was the game, but then again, he’s been to the stadium since his injury to get his injections, massage, or other stretching he’s still able to do. Griffin is determined not to get further behind than he must. But tonight it isn’t until he and Elliott laugh about the Aria situation that he feels the lightness move in, the lift in his chest that Aria gives him, the optimism.
It’s only been a matter of days since he last saw her, but Griffin misses Aria. He should’ve told her directly about the surgery, but every time he tried, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Griffin already feels too much like a loser, not even close to good enough for Aria, so what will he be like after surgery?
Probably they do need to scramble to patch up any gaps in their PR story, and maybe—as Elliott suggested—it would do him some good.
Once Griffin is home and rested, he shoots Aria a text.
Griffin:In other news, it seems like the internet is chattering again...
Aria:Gah. Isn’t the internet always stirring up some sort of trouble? Are we in it?
Griffin:Ha. I only know because of Elliott, and even though he spun it like it was his knowledge, it was probably Cassandra who let him in on it.
Aria:Pause for a Google break.
Griffin sits back and lets Aria do her online sleuthing.
Aria:Eh. This is child’s play. But we can put something together.
Griffin imagines seeing Aria again, and it’s as if his heart squeezes in hope. The sound of her laugh, the conversation that bubbles like a freshly cracked soda, the traces of her perfume that linger even once she’s departed.
But then he thinks of himself, broken and useless.
He pushes the dreams of seeing her away.
Griffin:Maybe a social media post? I’m in pretty rough shape with the knee, trying to rest and all.
Aria:And I’m sure tonight’s loss didn’t help.
Griffin:Uhhhh. It was salt in the massive, gaping wound.
