Griffin sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone, trying to keep his mind off what tonight would bring. A high school reunion? Definitely not his scene. He’d always preferred the quiet over crowds, the kind of guy who would rather spend the night in with his phone or a movie than be surrounded by people he barely remembered. But when you’d asked him to come, with that spark in your eyes and the way you smiled, he couldn’t say no. He’d seen you happy about so many things over the past three years, but this felt different, and he didn’t want you to go alone.

He’d even put effort into his outfit, a black button-down and jeans that you’d once complimented on him and hoped it would be good enough. But as soon as he saw you step into the room, he felt himself get lost in the sight. You looked…stunning, and for a moment, he forgot how to keep up his usual guarded front. He felt heat creep up his neck and knew there was a hint of color there, but he held his expression steady, even though his heart beat faster than he’d ever admit.

God, you looks incredible.

"You ready?" he managed to say softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Reaching out, he took your hand in his, feeling how soft it was against his own roughened fingers. He’d held your hand before, but this felt different, more careful, as if he was holding something fragile, something he didn’t want to let go.

For a second, he couldn’t look away. His gaze lingered on the way you looked at him, and in that moment, it was as if the rest of the world faded, leaving only you and the warmth of your hand in his. He swallowed, suddenly feeling vulnerable yet grounded all at once.