I Like You a Latte {Completed}

18 | Grasping the Importance

Beverly was so absorbed in last minute cramming for her biology final that she almost fell off her chair when Deb flung open the door and practically sprinted inside.

"Whoa, Deb!" she squeaked in shock, eyeing the other girl strangely.

Deb, as usual, ignored her, though it wasn't the typical 'I don't want to talk to you because I hate your face,' but more of an 'I'm freaking out and don't have time to talk.'

Scrambling around the small dorm, Deb began to sift through the various piles of clothing and papers on her side of the room, her actions laced with panic.

Beverly stood from her chair, her movements careful, as though she was approaching an unpredictable animal. "Deb," she tried again, "what's going on?"

Deb startled violently and spun around, like she hadn't even realized Beverly was there. "Beverly!" her tone was pleading. "Please tell me you've seen a blue duffel bag in here somewhere."

Nodding dumbly—since when had Deb ever used the word "please"?—Beverly pointed at a faded blue duffel peeking out of the closet, half-hidden by Deb's many expensive clothes. "Deb, what the hell is—"

But Deb was already gone, leaving Beverly alone in their now-ransacked dorm.

"What the hell was that?" she asked the empty room, receiving no response.

***

When Beverly came out of her programming abstractions class, the sight of Griffin leaning against the hallway wall with a large thermos in his hand had her spirits lifting significantly.

"Hi!" she greeted cheerfully, bouncing over to him and leaning in to accept his own greeting, a sound kiss on the lips.

He pulled back after a moment, stroking the outline of her cheek with the fingers of his free hand. "Hello, Beverly. How was class?"

She sighed dramatically, throwing a hand over her eyes for extra effect. "Awful!" she peeked around her fingers to find him grinning with amusement, and she let a smile break through. "In all seriousness, it wasn't too bad. What's in the thermos? If it is what I think it is, then you'll be my most favorite human ever."

Griffin's responding smile was adorably crooked. "Then I wear the title of 'Beverly's Most Favorite Human' proudly."

Practically squealing at the thought of his delicious and caffeinated creation, Beverly snatched the thermos from his hand, screwed off the top, and hummed with contentment when the smell of chocolate invaded her senses. "'Favorite Human' indeed. Thanks, Griffin, you're so sweet to me." She popped up on her tiptoes to kiss his nose, then linked her arm through his and started leading him out of the building.

Twenty minutes later found them exploring the city again, though this time they stuck to the shops near Cynthia's.

It was in their fifth store—a small antique shop—that something caught Griffin's eye. Following his stare, Beverly was surprised to find a model ship, complete with sails and extensive detailing.

"Do you sail?" she probed, eyeing him curiously as he reached up to trace the delicate wood.

He smiled bitterly. "My mom did. She and Cynthia had a boat just like this and went to competitions every year."

Sidling closer to him and grasping his hand in her own, Beverly leaned her head against his arm. "They stopped?"

His muscles tensed, and she would have thought he'd closed up, if not for his next words: "My dad made my mom stop doing it, and Cynthia said it wasn't the same without her. They were planning to do one final competition together, but my parents died before then."