"Where have you been?" Beverly's roommate, Deb, asked suspiciously when Beverly walked inside their cramped dorm later that night. Her smile, which had been present since Griffin had walked her to the entrance of her dorm building, fell. He'd offered to walk her up, but she'd assured him that she'd be alright. The butterflies from the sweet smile he'd given her after murmuring, "I had a good time today, Beverly," were still bouncing around in her abdomen.

"Just out and about," she replied vaguely, throwing her backpack onto her bed and flopping into the swivel chair that sat in front of her desk. "Have a good day?" Not that the girl would respond, but being nice never hurt.

Sure enough, Deb simply scoffed and turned back to her textbooks, ignoring Beverly entirely. Holding back a sigh, Beverly turned to her own studying. She and Deb had only been roommates since the start of the fall semester, after Beverly's original roommate moved off campus and Deb's roommate petitioned for a new roommate.

"Deb's a nightmare," the girl had told Beverly in a hushed whisper. "Good luck." So far, those words had been true. Deb had sketchy young men and women coming by the dorm at all hours, was terribly nosy, avoided campus police like the plague, and seemed to hate Beverly more than anything.

Beverly could only hope to get a different roommate at the start of her junior year, without getting caught up in whatever crimes Deb was committing in the meantime. In her peripheral vision, she watched as Deb texted almost frantically on her phone, before the other girl suddenly snapped straight up on her bed, eyeing the door as though it was about to explode.

"Shit," she muttered, and Beverly spun in her chair to face her roommate.

"What is it?"

"Shh!" Deb hissed, jumping from her bad and flipping off the light switch. "Be quiet, Beverly, or I swear to God—"

Beverly never found out what Deb was swearing to do, because the girl cut herself off when footsteps echoed down the hallway outside their room. Through the small sliver of light bleeding through the bottom of the door, Beverly watched with bated breath as a shadow appeared; the doorknob jiggled once, and then a male voice cursed before the shadow disappeared.

There was utter silence for several minutes, before Deb flipped on her lamp.

"What the hell was that?" Beverly snapped, all joy from her day forgotten as her eyes narrowed in on Deb's panicked features. "What are you getting into?"

The anxiousness shining in Deb's eyes was pushed away in the next second, replaced by the girl's usual mask of irritation. "Nothing. Mind your business, Beverly, God."

But Beverly didn't fancy getting caught as collateral damage. "It is my business, Deb—I get that we don't like each other, but if you're involved in some kind of trouble, you need to tell me before I get shot because of it." So what if she was being dramatic? For all she knew, Deb was secretly the leader of a mob.

And I might watch too much TV, but oh well.

"I don't need to tell you anything!" Deb snarled, flipping off her lamp once more with obvious finality. The bedsheets rustled as she no doubt turned onto her side, away from Beverly. "Quit being stupid, Beverly," was her huffed goodnight.

But Beverly wasn't stupid. Dramatics aside, she knew that something bad was happening where her roommate was concerned, and she would have to stay on high alert to avoid unintentionally getting caught up in it.

***

.

Beverly grinned at the message. It didn't matter that it was only one word—anything from Griffin served to lift her spirits, especially now that Thanksgiving, quickly followed by finals, was coming up.

.

She snorted. It had surprised her, at first, that Griffin could be quite witty and sarcastic over text, something she didn't always get to witness in person; as comfortable as they'd grown in one another's presence, there were still moments of awkwardness. Though, if she truly thought about it, that was her fault; she couldn't resist teasing sometimes, if only so she could get a glimpse of his embarrassed but adorable smile.

Tucking her phone into her back pocket, she heaved her backpack onto her shoulders and marched to her programming abstractions study group, far less worried about being around Caleb now that she was in such a good mood.

Once she got her mocha and saw Griffin face-to-face, the day would be even better.

***

Griffin greeted her at the counter in the shop with that sheepish smile she adored, red ears, and her mocha steaming hot and accompanied by a scone. "For me?" She asked once the couple in front of her had collected their drinks and walked off, her stomach already grumbling.

Griffin must have heard it too, if his frown and question of, "Did you eat today, Beverly?" were any indication.

She paused for a moment, genuinely thinking about it, before shrugging and shaking her head to the negative. "Nope, guess not. Got distracted with study group, and I didn't want to go out with them after." As if she needed to be around Caleb any longer. The other members of the group were nice, and she didn't mind hanging out with them, but one look at Caleb had made her quickly decline their offer. The guy had spent at least ten minutes at the start of the session reminding her that she needed to improve her skills if she wanted a "seat at the table."

Jerk.

Griffin frowned. "I can send you with food. We always have leftovers from the day." he told her, all shyness melting away. She was glad he was growing more comfortable around her, even if it was only through texts or to offer food so she didn't die of what her mom fondly termed, "college student idiocy, honey."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. "That's really sweet of you, Griff, and I'd be glad to take you up on the offer, so long as I'm not stealing these goodies from anyone else."

He shrugged, his eyes sliding away for a brief moment before he gathered the courage to return them to her eager gaze. "I bring home some, and sometimes throw away the rest. If we have a lot, I bring them to the fire station down the road."

What's that feeling? Oh, that's just my heart melting because he's sooooooo sweet.

Beverly blinked several times to ensure her heart eyes weren't showing too obviously. A quick glance over her shoulder showed her that no one was waiting in line behind her, and she took the moment to lean forward rather inconspicuously and declare, "You are one of the nicest humans I've ever met."

Griffin seemed torn between blushing and protesting. "I, I'm not—Beverly, I don't—"

"How come you don't have a girlfriend?" Inquiring minds needed to know. After all, Beverly wasn't blind, nor was she ignorant of Griffin's personality. Not only was he an attractive specimen; he was a total sweetheart, regardless of what his tattoos made some (judgmental) folks think.

Sure, he carried something heavy from his past—she could see it in those hazel eyes and the furrow that never quite left his brow—but he was a good man in the present, and surely that was the most important thing, right?

Right.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, well. There were a couple in high school, but, I mean, I'm not sure. I know those girls wouldn't like me now."

Huh?

"Huh?" Her frown deepened. "How come? You're great."

Her words were rewarded with a tiny smile, even as Griffin glanced away again and replied rather reluctantly, "Those girls wanted to date the troubled bad kid, I think. I heard one of them telling her friends that she'd 'tamed' me. It was almost like they wanted bragging rights for who got me. I didn't date again after her."

Beverly's mouth had fallen open at some point during his story, and she shut it before he caught her gaping. "Girls are insane," she murmured absently, reminded of her own high school classmates, one of whom had tattooed a boy's name on her forehead before she'd even spoken to the dude.

I wonder how Eleanor's doing, anyway . . .

Griffin's eyes skittered back to hers and remained there, amused. "You're a girl, Beverly," he reminded her with a soft laugh.

"Excuse me, sir, but I am a woman, thanks." She rolled her eyes, but spared him a smile when he chuckled again. "So, you don't date now because you don't want to be tamed?" Her voice held only honest curiosity.

Her newest friend released a puff of frustrated air. She didn't think it was directed at her, however; rather, he appeared to be annoyed at those girls and other things in his past as he recalled them. "I work for my godmother in a coffee shop," he began, shaking his head, "and I'm no longer . . ." he trailed off, swallowing audibly, his fingers fiddling furiously with a napkin. "I'm not involved in the stuff I was back then."

Ah, so rough past indeed.

"Anyway," he continued, "I don't think they'd find me appealing now. There's no, uh, 'thrill' in being with me, and I don't have the same hormone-driven courage that I did when I was younger." As if to confirm this, his expression turned shy, and he was quick to busy himself with taking a sip of water.

Unable to resist the perfect opportunity for teasing, Beverly let her eyes rake up and down what she could see of his form languidly. Leaning forward, she caught his eyes and whispered huskily, "I don't know, Griffin—you seem awfully appealing to me."

As expected, Griffin's eyes widened into saucers, and he choked on the water he'd been drinking, coughing so hard he had to bend over. "Jesus Christ, Beverly," he wheezed, and she grinned cheekily when he looked at her.

She could feel the stares of the shop's patrons on her back, but she ignored them and watched with childlike glee as Griffin straightened and passed her sharp glance that held no real heat. When he saw her bright eyes and even brighter smile, his posture relaxed and he huffed a laugh. "You're . . ." he sucked in a breath, rolled his shoulders, and finished, "something."

It wasn't exactly a compliment, but Beverly decided to take it as one, anyway. "Why, thank you. I hope you know I'm not trying to embarrass you. It's just . . . you're adorable when you're flustered."

He analyzed her for a moment, as he always did when she said something like that, and she knew he was determining how truthful she was being. And, as always, he quickly figured out that she was genuine. "I wouldn't be so flustered if you weren't so damn pretty. Your smile probably makes the sun jealous." His jaw clicked shut with an audible snap as he realized what he'd said, and then he groaned. "Jesus. God. Shit. I need to shut up."

"I disagree," Beverly said, inwardly frowning when she heard the bell ring as a new customer entered. "I think you need to keep talking to me, and flattering me, and making me mochas. What say you, Coffee-man?"

His eyes slid past her as he became aware of the interruption as well, but he didn't rush his words as he dipped his head, caught her eyes bashfully, and responded, "I, uh, I say, 'I'll try my best.'"

She lifted her scone and declared, "To trying new things."

His smile was wider this time. "To trying new things."

***