warmth {complete}

23||i've fallen for your eyes, but they don't know me yet

I wake up to my phone blaring "UGH!" by The 1975. It's a wonderful song, but I'm exhausted.

"What?" I groan as I answer the call.

"Katherine, can you come over here?"

It's Griffin, sounding panicky and terrifying. His voice makes me shoot straight-up in my bed and clutch the phone to my ear. His voice has a cracked undertone, like he's been crying, and it makes me want to get in my car and comfort him; but it's 1:17, and my mother would not go for that.

"Yes, I'll be there in a minute," I tell him, scrambling out of my bed and prying my door open quickly. It squeaks less when I pull fast, so I do that with the front door, too. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I just need you," he says, then hangs up.

I swear as I'm climbing into my car, buckling with shaking hands. For the first time in my life, I don't turn on the radio when the car starts, opting instead to focus my attention on driving as quickly as I can without speeding. I let out a string of swear words as I drive, imagining all sorts of different scenarios.

His mother probably said something that got him like this, and it's kind of making me want to slap her. If he's in as terrible a condition as he sounds on the phone, I probably will.

I call him again once I'm a few minutes away to inquire details as to his location.

"No one's home," he says, sounding hollow this time, which is somehow equally terrifying. "Just come to my room."

"Where's your room?"

"Third floor, end of the hallway, grey door."

"Okay," I whisper. "Don't hang up."

"Okay," he says, and I hear his breathing catch periodically as I drive. "Katherine?"

"Hmm?"

"You're the best."

I don't respond because I'm at his house. He sighs through the phone and murmurs, "I wish you were here," to me.

"I will be in a minute," I assure him. "Wait for me."

"I am."

We don't talk again until I find his grey door, and then I hang up. Shoving the door open, I rush to his spot on the floor and splay my hand on his cheek. He's on his knees, with a bottle of vodka beside him and tear tracks marring his cheeks. His eyes flit to mine, bloodshot and so terribly sad.

"Hey, Katherine," he says, his voice weak. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Griffin," I whisper, cupping his cheeks in my hands and leaning close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath. "What are you doing?"

"Drowning my sorrows in alcohol," is his response. "Although I'd really love to drown my sorrows in you." He twirls a strand of my hair around his finger and smiles. "You're so beautiful, Katherine. All that golden hair, and your pretty blue eyes." He touches my cheek, traces the shape of my eyes. "Stunning."

"Griffin," I mutter, leaning even closer and running my fingers through his hair. "Tell me what happened."

"She said"—he pulls the strap of my tank top off my shoulder and rubs his thumb over my collarbone— "that she's been cheating on my dad since before I was born. My dad is actually a man named Robert Loughlin." He smiles darkly. "Isn't that fascinating, Katherine?"

He slips his fingers into my hair and twists the strands around his hands and wrists. He pulls my face close to his and brushes his lips against mine, just barely. My eyes are wide, and when he sees them, he smiles genuinely.

"I don't even need vodka when I have you," he says, low and husky and in my ear. "You're much more intoxicating."

I want him to tell me more about what his mother said, but his hands are dropping to my waist and tracing the curves there. He's wiping my mind of every thought, of everything, just with his hands. I bite my lip, he leans forward and captures it between his teeth. I suck in a breath, barely breathing at all, and he traces my jawline with his fingertips as he fully presses his lips to mine.

His hands wander over me, curving against my hip and neck, tangling in my hair. He kisses me hard and soft at the same time, entrapping me in his lips (this reminds me of "hurricane" because of the held him captive in my kiss part) and keeping me from thinking about anything else but him. I touch his narrow waist and press myself closer to him.

"Katherine," he moans against my lips, softening the kiss and trailing tiny kisses along my neck and jaw.

He tastes like vodka and strawberries, a heady combination that makes me press his back into the wall and kiss him harder. He leans into me, nudging me off him just barely, and says, "I think I'm sober now."

I blush and break the kiss, wiping my mouth as he stares at me. His eyes rove over my face, then he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.

"You're a fantastic kisser," he murmurs. "But we shouldn't go any further."

"Okay."

"Don't look at me like that, I'm trying to be responsible."

"Okay," I say again.

"You should go," he says, sighing. "But I might fall all the way off the deep end if you leave me, so..."

A smile curves my lips, and I pull him off the floor by the hand. I crawl into his bed before he does, sliding my legs under the covers.

"I forgot to tell you how cute you look tonight," he mumbles against the back of my neck as he pulls my back to his front. "I love these pajamas."

I don't say anything, just smile into a pillow that smells like him and close my eyes.

A/N: oh, i like this chapter. i think it's gonna end soon. i still have to figure out the stuff with her dad, but ya know. i'll get there. thank you so much for reading. mwah.