Beverly smiled at Griffin's text, letting her fingers fly over her phone and firing back a reply:

Griffin's response was just as quick.

She grinned at the device in her hand, practically able to feel Griffin's unhappy glare through the screen.

Beverly bit back a snort, knowing full well how much that had pained him.

Beverly was stopped from replying when Alicia (whose presence she had almost entirely forgotten about, drawled, "Are you dating your phone? Because that is one of the most lovestruck looks I have ever seen in my life."

Startling violently, Beverly swung her gaze up to the other girl with sheepish eyes. "Sorry. It's new, and I just . . ." she trailed off, shrugging pitifully.

It was enough, though, if the sudden gleam in Alicia's eyes was any indication. "Oh. My. God. Did the straight male friend graduate to boyfriend status?"

Looking down at her suddenly fascinating book, Beverly shook her head, nodded, then lifted one shoulder in an I-don't-really-know sign. "Kind of. Yeah."

Alicia released a long, awed whistle. "Well, I'll be. Damn, girl. I told you before, and I meant it: I need to meet him now. I have to give him the stamp of approval, obviously. When and where?"

Beverly blinked dumbly. "He," she paused, licking her suddenly too-dry lips, "he works at Cynthia's Coffeehouse. We could meet there, I suppose?"

Mulling it over for less than half a second, Alicia nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Thursday?"

"Let me just text him," Beverly mumbled, turning her attention back to her phone.

She waited, her fingers tapping anxiously on the corners of the device; Alicia just watched with an amused smile ticking her lips. Finally, Beverly's phone buzzed.

She asked Alicia, and the other girl grinned like a madwoman. "Oh, two is just fine, Bev. I cannot wait!" she rubbed her hands together almost maniacally, and Beverly could only chuckle nervously.

If Griffin was her boyfriend, she sincerely hoped that meeting Alicia wouldn't scare him away.

***

"Hey," Griffin greeted her when she came to a stop by his car, bending down to press a chaste kiss against her lips. "I would've gone up to get you, you know."

She smiled. "I know, but I figured relationships are all about compromise, so I decided to meet you in the middle." More like she'd been getting weird vibes from Deb all night, since the other girl had been pacing their dorm and muttering to herself, and she didn't want Griffin to see that. Knowing him, he'd ask questions and worry, and Beverly didn't want to make him concerned over nothing.

Well, what I hope is nothing, anyway.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she heard a husky chuckle from the taller man, and he ran his knuckles over her neck, causing her to shiver at the feel of his cool skin. "I don't think this is quite what they meant, but I'll take it. Ready to go?"

"For a five-star dinner at Griffin's? Absolutely. Lead on, Coffee-man."

He shot her an amused glance, tugging open the passenger door and helping her inside. "Speaking of," he added before he closed the door, "there's something in the cupholder for you." then he shut the door and walked to the driver's side, just as Beverly shifted to look at the console. Sure enough, a to-go cup with the label Cynthia's Coffeehouse rested patiently, and Beverly smiled widely, snatching it up and taking a sip.

Griffin climbed into the car a second later, his grin matching hers when he saw her enjoying the beverage. "Still your favorite person?"

"Always," she replied seriously, sending him an adoring look.

His smile turned into something soft and emotional, and he bent forward to pull her into a kiss, his lips molding to hers perfectly—Beverly would never get tired of kissing him. They pulled away only when their lungs protested, and Griffin pressed gentle kisses along her brow before settling back into his seat.

Her giddy smile only grew wider when he held her hand during the drive, stroking it absentmindedly with his thumb. The streetlamps illuminated his features in flashes of light, and she leaned her head against the back of the chair, taking the rare moment of peace to absorb him.

He had surprisingly full lips for a boy, and those stupidly long lashes that most girls (Beverly included) could only dream of; coupled with his long hair—which he must've taken out of its usual ponytail, since it hung around his shoulders freely—he looked like he'd stepped out of some kind of steamy baristas magazine.

She blew out a content sigh and he looked over at her, a deep laugh ripping from his throat a beat later. "You're trouble," he said once he had calmed.

"And you're beautiful." she told him honestly. "Seriously."

Griffin screwed his nose up comically. "I'm not sure how I feel about that. Between us, I'd say you're the beautiful one."

Beverly squeezed his hand. "Which makes you trouble." She sat up somewhat, her eyes narrowing on his face. "Wait a minute, is that a scar on the side of your head?" There was a spot just above his right ear that was missing hair, about an inch long and half an inch wide. "How have I never noticed?"

The fingers of Griffin's other hand started tapping against the steering wheel, an action she knew he turned to when he was uncomfortable. "It's hard to tell when my hair's back," he confessed finally, his voice a whisper. "I got it . . ." he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "I got it when I first started getting into trouble. I was drunk and picked a fight with my best friend at the time; we beat the crap out of each other, and he nicked me with one of his rings."

Beverly hummed thoughtfully. "Are you still friends?"

Griffin shook his head. "No. When I got out, he didn't. I don't . . . I don't," he heaved a frustrated sigh, and Beverly was quick to tighten her fingers around his own reassuringly.

I'm here, she tried to say.

He squeezed back, as if to reply, I know.

"I don't know what happened to him, exactly, but I think he, uh—I don't think he made it."

"That sucks." Beverly muttered after a brief silence. "It sucks a lot, in fact. But you shouldn't feel guilty about it."

"Oh?" Griffin's tone grew cynical and filled with self-loathing. "I sure as hell do." He pulled into his apartment's parking lot, practically slamming the car into park before running a hand through his hair.

"Hey," she reached over and pulled on his chin until he was looking at her, his eyes colored with pain. "Did you try to get him out, too?"

His brows rose in a mix of confusion and mild offense. "Of course I did; I told him I was leaving and begged him to come with me."

"And what did he tell you?"

"He said they were his family, and that—if I wanted to leave—I wasn't, anymore." The hurt was clear in his expression, but Beverly plowed ahead.

"So you shouldn't feel guilty. You tried to get him out, and it didn't work. We all learn our lessons differently, Griffin. As sad as it is, I think some of us learn them too late."

Griffin tore his gaze from the dashboard after a long pause, swinging his face to her, gratitude clear in his features. "Have I mentioned you're smart? Because, my God, you're smart."

Sensing the need for a subject change, Beverly stuck her nose up and threw open her door dramatically, snatching up her mocha as she went. "I know. Now, come along, Coffee-man—I want food."

He chuckled, his troubles seemingly forgotten, and followed.

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