Aria won’t say it out loud because it would make it all too real, but they’re a big crew who look grisly and angry. She wouldn’t want to be put up against them.
“Since when do you know any of these things?” Bailey asks, bewildered.
“Since Griff and I became friends. I want to support him like he supports me, so obviously I’m going to watch.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“I finally have a real one, and I’m all in on it. Not to mention I know what it’s like to go on under the lights, under the pressure.”
“You two really are a match made in heaven.”
Aria can tell Bailey is biting her tongue, and she appreciates it. She grabs another handful of popcorn just as the clock starts to run down to the end of the first half. The Wardens have possession, and she knows that if they can get the ball into Griffin’s hands, he might be able to get points on the board. He’s great under pressure.
As if her mind’s been read, the ball snaps to the quarterback, and he telescopes it directly into Griffin’s hands. Griffin presses the ball into his chest and turns, but before he can thrust himself into a forward step, he’s hit hard in his blind spot by a massive linebacker. Griffin falls to the ground like his knees were cut out from below him.
Aria gasps as she shoots to her feet, both hands flying to her mouth. “Holy sh—”
“Is that Griff?” Bailey says.
In the pause that follows, the camera zooms onto Griffin’sbody, which remains flat out on the green turf. Aria begins to whisper, “Get up, Griff. Get up.”
Her heart races, terror coursing through her. She sucks in a rapid breath at the sight of him moving. He rolls around a little, and the athletic trainers swarm him.
The commentators speculate:
“He took that hit pretty hard.”
“Looks like he’s awake, but he’s in no rush to get back up.”
“We all remember five years ago when he had a similar hit and a knee injury ended his season.”
“Hayes is a strong player, but when anyone gets hit like that, it’s going to take you out.”
Aria is glued to the screen, and when he sits up with his helmet removed, she feels like she might cry. Relief that he’s awake and upright. Pain that he’s injured. Fear that there’s more to this. Aria, just like anyone else, knows the risks of playing professional football, the impact of many tackles over time, the finicky nature of the human brain. She wants to run onto the field and hug him.
Foolishly, she grabs for her phone to call him, but she looks back to the screen, her reminder that his phone is stored far away in the locker room.
“He’s getting up,” Bailey says.
The trainers help him off the field, and the crowd erupts into cheers.
“Looks like that same knee that gave him trouble years ago is hurt, and he’s putting no weight on that foot,” one commentator states.
Aria’s heart rate slows as the camera zooms in on Griffin in the back of the truck that’s driving him out of the stadium. Hewaves at his adoring fans, even attempting a smile, but she knows he’s not all right. The camera betrays worry etched into his face, keenly obvious to those who know him, as it follows him.
The commentators chirp their accolades to Hayes, their well-wishes for his speedy recovery as he departs.
Aria keeps her eyes on him all the way until the truck cuts out of the shot.
And she could see his long eyelashes the whole way.
She reaches for her phone and texts anyway.
Aria:I’m watching, Griff. I know you won’t get this until later, but call me as soon as you can. I’m thinking about you. xoxo.
Probably she shouldn’t have added the “xoxo” part, but this is an emergency situation, and she’ll allow herself some leeway.
Chapter 33
