"Why are college kids so dumb?" Beverly asked aloud as they entered the local art museum.

She felt Griffin's eyes on the side of her as he absorbed her words. "Uh. Is that rhetorical?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe?" She considered it for a moment, then shook her head. "No, it's genuine. Why are kids so dumb?"

Griffin snorted with amusement, his body warm against hers as he stepped closer to avoid a frazzled father herding a pack of young kids. "A lot of reasons. I was dumb because I had too many hormones and thought rebellion was the best way to deal with grief."

She tucked that clue away for later.

"Most kids are dumb for those reasons, but there are others. Some are forced into it, some actually enjoy being stupid, and some just think that death isn't real." A glance up at him showed his hazel orbs were glazed and faraway. "Sucks when they realize it is." He shook himself from his daze as they stopped before a large depiction of a tornado made of flowers and kind words. "Who's being dumb?"

"Art is so fascinating. I bet tornadoes would be way cooler if they were made of things like 'flowers are the way we connect to nature' instead of damaging winds. Have you heard about what's going on at my school?"

It took Griffin a beat to catch up with her nonsensical ramble. It was his fault, though; he'd added an extra shot of espresso to her mocha that morning. Of course, she'd been the one yawning, but, to her credit, she hadn't wanted to miss out on the opportunity to spend time with him, since he'd actually been the one to ask if she wanted to visit the museum's newest exhibits.

"I've heard about it," his voice was tense, but his posture even stiffer, and she wondered if his obvious discomfort had anything to do with the 'things' he'd done in his past. "Are you staying safe?"

Gah. So sweet.

"Sure am, Griff. Thankfully, I don't participate in those activities." His shoulders remained taut, so she added, "Not that I judge those who do. Like you said, there are a lot of reasons people do things like that." She decided not to mention the feeling in her gut warning her that Deb was up to no good. Just because her roommate was acting weird, didn't necessarily mean that Deb was involved with drugs . . .

Or, that was what she was going to tell herself for the moment, anyway.

"It's okay, Beverly," he murmured, nudging her shoulder gently with his. "I know what you mean. Regardless of the reason, please be careful, alright? People like that . . ." he blew out a heavy breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "People like that get dangerous quickly. Just . . . be careful."

Reaching over, she grabbed the hand nearest to her and squeezed his fingers, inwardly thrilled when he returned the gesture and didn't release her for several beats. "I will. Don't worry too much, okay? I know I can be a bit headstrong, and my mom still calls me her little detective sometimes, but I doubt I'll run into any of that stuff." Her roommate seemed far more the type, after all, and Beverly avoided Deb's friends at all costs.

Her words seemed to appease her newest friend, and the air between them returned to being relaxed, as it normally was. They moved to the next piece of art, and Griffin halted.

"Is it a plate?" He asked, a cute wrinkle in his nose as he squinted at the various shapes and obnoxious colors. "Or another tornado? Abstract never did agree with me."

Beverly laughed, patting him on the shoulder jokingly. "Oh, that's alright, Griffin; not everyone has the imagination for abstract. At least now I know not to ask you why you've never delved into that genre."

"Good. It's something I wouldn't want to talk about, anyway—I'm sensitive about it." His expression was serious, but Beverly had learned to recognize the playful glint in his hazel eyes.

"Then I guess I shouldn't tell you that I'd like you a whole lot more if you painted abstract?"

His expression broke, and a crooked grin tugged at his lips. "Yeah, don't tell me that."

Releasing another chuckle, Beverly snatched up his hand again and pulled him towards a different section of the art museum. He went willingly (if he'd wanted to stop her, his size would have made it easy), and she was even more pleased when, this time, he didn't let go of her hand, even after they were standing in front of the watercolor, psychedelic depiction of a sailboat in a tsunami.

"I like this better," Griffin confessed, his voice soft as his fingers tightened over hers, though his eyes never strayed from the picture.

Beverly's smile was brighter than the gaudy yellow in the art when she replied. "Me too."

***

They were walking past a boutique several hours later when Beverly's eyes strayed to a T-shirt displayed in the window.

I cannot espresso how much you bean to me, it read, and she snorted. Tugging at Griffin's jacket, she waited until he turned around before pointing at it.

"How come you never tell me any coffee puns, Griffin? I bet you know plenty."

He scoffed, tightening his grip on her hand and pulling her away from the store window. "I haven't told you any because all the ones I know are absolutely stupid." Their day together had been excellent; he'd hardly stuttered once, even when she'd cracked a joke about him being the greatest piece of art in the whole museum.

"That's a shame, because I really love puns."

Stopping and spinning to stare at her, they held one another's gaze for several moments before Griffin shook his head and sighed. "Do you really want to hear one?"

Beverly bounced on the balls of her feet eagerly. "Oh, goodness yes. Dazzle me with your humor, Coffee-man!"

He ran a hand over his face, keeping his eyes trained on a spot over her shoulder resolutely as he muttered quietly, "You're brew-tiful."

Staying silent for a beat while she absorbed his words, Beverly had to bend over because she was laughing so hard. "That's amazing! Oh, wow, Griffin—I loved it." Once she had calmed, she squeezed his hand. "I can't wait to hear more of them."

Griffin released a dramatic huff. "I am never telling you another one, Beverly."

"Playing hard to get, hmm? No matter. I'll get your mocha recipe and another coffee pun out of you, just you wait and see."

"Sure, Beverly, whatever you say. Can we go eat, now? All that artwork made me hungry."

"If I say 'yes,' will you tell me another pun? And if I pay for dinner, will you tell me two?"

"Let's go, Beverly."

His smile hadn't dimmed, she noticed, and that only made hers grow wider.

***

Beverly was missing Griffin's stunning smile two days later as she sat in the library with Alicia. She enjoyed Alicia's company, but biology was a pain, and she would rather be with her coffee-man.

"I don't know why they make me take biology when I'm not even in a STEM field. Like, honestly, how stupid is that?" Alicia groaned, throwing a notebook down on the library table and shooting Beverly an I'm so sick of this look.

Beverly chuckled, bending forward and scribbling down notes on one of her many flashcards. "Probably because everyone should have some idea of how the world around them works?"

Alicia tossed her hands up in the air, slouching in her seat unhappily. "I don't think that's right at all—I won't remember any of this stuff in a couple of weeks, anyway. I don't plan on teaching biology! And, even if I was, it would probably be directed at elementary students, and I doubt they'll care about cells and viruses."

"Fair point," Beverly conceded with an amused grin, tossing her pen onto the table and standing from her chair. Her back was stiff after sitting for so long, and she stretched her arms above her head in an attempt to relieve herself of the discomfort. "I'm going to hit the bathroom. Need anything from the vending machine?"

Alicia responded to the negative, and Beverly shot the other girl a mock salute as she maneuvered around the many bookshelves and towards the small public bathroom that was settled on the third floor of the library. It meant traveling up the stairs, but it was the quietest (and cleanest) bathroom on the entire campus. It also gave her extra time to think of Griffin, and his grin, and his calloused fingers, and his warmth, and his sweetness . . .

Le sigh.

Stepping inside one of the many empty stalls, Beverly locked the door behind her but halted only one step into the stall. Something inside the toilet paper dispenser had caught the light, and she rocked back on her heels to try and catch the glint again.

Sure enough, there it was. Her curiosity taking hold, she knelt by the toilet and ran her fingers over the top of the dispenser, looking for the seam in the plastic. Once she found it, she snuck her fingers inside, popping the lid off and grimacing when the noise echoed throughout the bathroom.

Shifting the lid to one hand, she used her other to reach inside and . . . squeaked in shock at what she pulled out. It was a tightly sealed bag.

A tightly sealed bag of fine white powder.

Even without being an expert at biology, something told her it wasn't sugar or salt.

"Well, shit."