Beverly wasn't sure when she'd started to feel like an embarrassed middle-school student, but she didn't like it. Eyeing the coffee shop's door as though it had personally insulted her, she debated her options. Would Cynthia be mad if she didn't show up? Surely it wouldn't make too much of a difference, right? Griffin probably wouldn't care either way—their sole conversation hadn't been anything spectacular, after all.

Sure, she'd planned to go the previous night, but staring at the shop now . . .

She had no desire to look as desperate as she felt.

So, yes, maybe she should save herself any more embarrassment, go to her dorm and finish her homework, then find a different café that sold a similar mocha (it wouldn't be as good, but she'd take what she could get).

Just as she was about to turn around and leave, the door was flung open, and Beverly squeaked with shock when Griffin walked out, holding a filled garbage bag and looking just as surprised to see her as she was him.

"Hi, Griffin," she croaked, waving awkwardly.

He flashed a tiny, bemused smile, and curse her brain if she didn't want to spend more time with him, if only to see if she could win a true grin from him. "Hi, Beverly."

"How are you?" She almost grimaced at the hitch in her tone—God, Cynthia must have done something to her yesterday; she normally wasn't this stilted.

Griffin didn't indicate that he was bothered. "Fine. Good. Fine. Thanks." And then he was hurrying away from her, toward the dumpster in the alley, his expression mortified and his large frame slumped forward as though he wanted to disappear.

She held back a sigh as she watched him go. There was no use now—she had to go inside. Hurrying in before he got back, she managed a half-hearted smile when Cynthia caught her eye from behind the counter. "Ah!" the older woman hooted, "Well, hello, Miss Bev! How nice of you to come by!"

"You've met?" came Griffin's curious voice from behind her, and Beverly spun around to see him in the doorway, looking completely befuddled but also damn attractive with one hand in his pocket and the other running through his hair as his eyes swiveled between her and his godmother.

"Oh, yes," Cynthia practically purred, handing a customer a steaming mug, "She came by yesterday, Griffin. I must've forgotten to tell you, though I'm not sure how, since she's such a sweet thing."

There was some noncommittal spluttering from Griffin as he dropped his gaze to the floor and hustled behind the counter, rolling up his sleeves and showing off the many tattoos on his left arm as he washed his hands. "Get busy, kid," Cynthia teased, hitting a button on one of the coffeemakers to start a new brew. "Can't make this poor college student go without caffeine, now can we?" she tilted forward to whisper something in his ear, before stepping back and shooting Beverly a wink.

Then Cynthia disappeared into what Beverly assumed was the older woman's office, leaving Beverly with Griffin and five other customers, all of whom were not paying them any attention. "No," he agreed softly, even though Cynthia wouldn't hear him, sending Beverly a soft smile, as though they were sharing a secret joke. "We can't. Is, uh," he licked his lips, something in his eyes shifting as his resolve seemed to waver before strengthening again. "Is school going okay?"

She was so stunned by his sudden jump into small talk that she almost didn't reply. Shaking herself internally, she shot him a bright smile. "So far, so good. I'm not sure I like Shakespeare, though—reading isn't exactly my favorite thing. Are you in school right now?"

He tensed slightly, eyes darting to hers searchingly. He must not have found anything suspicious, since his shoulders loosened, and he answered, "No. I have an associate degree, but that's it."

He seemed almost disappointed in himself, and Beverly was having none of that. "Any degree, of any sort, is never just an 'it,' sir. That's really great. Seriously." She leaned forward, eyeing him intently, and their gazes were locked for a pregnant pause, until he blinked rapidly and spun away.

"Thanks," he muttered, fingers twitching erratically against the counter top. "What can I get you, Beverly?"

She pretended to think about it for a moment, before sighing dramatically and making a show of heaving her wallet out of her backpack. "The double chocolate mocha, Griffin. What else?"

His lips twitched, and he nodded, turning to face her once more, just long enough to take her money. "I hear you came up with it?" she prodded carefully, tucking her wallet back into her backpack before reaching out and accepting the change.

Griffin's left shoulder lifted in a nonchalant shrug. "Uh, yeah. Something like that. I was just messing around, but Cynthia thought it tasted good."

"'Good?'" Beverly parroted, mouth agape, "Excuse me—I don't care if Cynthia's the owner—that drink is the greatest thing ever, and I will not have anyone say otherwise. You hear me, Griffin?"

He stared at her over his shoulder, blinked twice, then chuckled, shaking his head with slight amusement even as his ears tinted red because of her praise. "Yes, Beverly."

"Excellent," she sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest and looking every bit a coffee snob. "What's in it, anyway? Cynthia said you wouldn't tell her."

When he faced her this time, he handed her the large cream-colored mug that contained her favorite drink, brows raised in question. "I won't tell her, but you think I'll tell you?"

Beverly let her arms drop to her sides, shrugging pitifully before reaching up to carefully take the mug in one hand, pretending not to notice when his fingers brushed against hers and he cleared his throat, pulling back as though he'd been burned. "A girl can dream," she retorted cheekily, her grin widening when his eyes grew into dinner plates.

"Right," he choked. "Sure. Yeah. Okay." He rubbed at his tattooed arm absently, his Adam's apple bobbing with his nervous swallow.

Her smile softened, and she placed the change he'd given her into the tip jar seated next to the register. "Thanks, Griffin."

He nodded once, still looking panicked, and she struggled to hold in her laugh.

For a giant covered in tattoos, he was awfully adorable.

***

A/N: Guys someone told me that the cool kids on this website make banners to put at the end of each chapter (is that actually true or have I been tricked into doing unnecessary work? lol) but I'm technologically challenged so it took me a while but I was messing around with Canva and Prisma and I finally made a banner thingamadooey:

Please be proud of me, senpai 🥺🥺🥺

Hit me up on Twitter (@DewlerR) for random thoughts and Instagram (@dewlzey) for random pictures 

Quirky Question: What's your favorite spread to put on toast?

I had a ten minute argument over the phone today with my brother about whether cookie butter or Nutella is better, and yes, it was intense. 

Peace out, Brussels sprouts, 

A. R.