With the premiere of his Netflix original series, newly verified Instagram account, and his return to college to endure sophomore year with his best friend, Griffin Alvarado should be on cloud nine. However, after learning that his online summer fli...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
♧
The dynamic between California and New York is starkly different from any transitions Griffin has experienced. A year ago today, he would be waking up at four in the morning to spend three hours in hair and makeup before dutifully reporting to set to film and perfect scenes with the rest of his stellar cast. The process was scalding, his skin hummed in annoyance at the heat radiating off of the black turf of a vast soccer field, the sun's rays of heat becoming so intense that it buzzed in and out of the air.
Griffin spent hours outdoors doing everything and nothing and perhaps what he craved was substance. As per the ultimatum set by his mother, Griffin completed online courses. Under no circumstance was he to fall behind. While his fellow freshmen tripped and stumbled their way through First Year Experience, Griffin entertained the idea of dipping his toe into the world of Hollywood. His schedule was unpredictable, wild, and that attracted excitement from him. Trying to predict the course of his day was a fun game to play, one where he was inevitably the loser every single time.
California is his home. Running out the door and making direct contact with the beach, toes curling into the wet sand, and breathing in that salty, ocean induced breeze was a different kind of heaven. The twins would wrap their nimble body and contort themselves around his legs, slowing his descent into the ocean. He would take dramatic steps to drag them deeper into the water all while growling, which produced squeals of amusement to escape from their clenched teeth, ("Go faster Griffin!"). When they're all soaking wet and occupied by their competition of finding the best clam shell, his mother would step outside, smiling sweetly and threaten to kick them out of the house if they didn't get cleaned up right at that moment. Griffin thinks they would be fine with that.
Now, he's a sophomore in New York and the salty air refused to follow him. He is hours away from the glittering lights reflecting off skyscrapers in Manhattan. Syracuse provides an alternative type of calm. The breeze exudes elegant movements and earthy tones, rustling leaves ever so slightly as if to apologize for whichever direction the wind moves. The wind nips at his skin and Griffin is afraid that the considerable decrease in contact with the sun will cause his natural tan to lighten up, which would be a shame now that he acknowledges that his skin is without a doubt his best feature. Of course this statement would only stand true if you were able to look past the intensity of the gold swimming in the pools of green in his eyes or his boyish smile that somehow exudes tremendous levels of charm.
Griffin runs a hand through his black hair. He faintly remembers beer trickling down his neck the night before and let's out an exhausted groan. He squints at his surroundings in confusion. Griffin's body has laid over their couch, a throw blanket lazily thrown over his legs. His shirt is missing and his eyes widen at the three leaf clover tattoo on his left tricep. What the hell?
Memories of last night's "orientation party" flood back to Griffin as he stumbles over an object thrown across the floor. He looks toward the ground and barks out a laugh when it's Everett's body that he tripped over. With nothing but boxers and prints of purple lipstick stapled over his body, Everett obviously had a better night than the pair expected.
