I Like You a Latte {Completed}

28 | Exposing the Situation

Keeping her head down and her steps fast, Beverly wandered past another idling car. Not for the first time, she scolded herself internally for not calling Francis and asking for a ride; the man would've been willing, she knew. The only reason she hadn't contacted him was because she didn't want to be a burden, but she realized at that moment that calling someone for a ride was probably preferable over having them called to identify her dead body.

And, her brain piped up helpfully, you're also breaking that promise you made to Griffin. You know, the one where you said you wouldn't come down to this area without him?

Oh, hush. Griffin wouldn't even pick up if we called him, anyway.

She didn't know that for sure, of course, but she had a good feeling that was the case. The last contact she'd had with the man who may or may not have been her boyfriend had been the text she'd sent him on Christmas morning: Merry Christmas; hope you're well.

To which Griffin had so kindly replied, Thanks.

Beverly's grip unknowingly tightened on the wrapped package in her grip. It hurt, of course, that Griffin seemed capable of forgetting all about her, while she thought of him daily. On some level, though, she supposed she understood.

Even though they'd (possibly, maybe) been dating, they'd only known one another for several months, whereas Cynthia had been in Griffin's life since his birth—it made sense that he would stand up for his godmother, and Beverly admired him more for it. Besides, if someone had wronged one of her family members, she probably would've acted the same way.

Shaking herself of her thoughts, Beverly blew out a shuddered breath, looking up at the door in front of her as though it was about to come to life and swallow her whole. She set down his present, leaning it against the door before straightening up and knocking three times.

Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door, and Beverly rushed away. She waited in the shadows underneath the staircase, listening intently as the door above her swung open with a creak. It didn't close right away, though, and she heard his feet as they padded on the wooden planks above her.

"Beverly?" but God, she'd missed his voice. "Beverly?" Griffin waited several more beats, and then there was a weighted sigh, followed by the crinkling of wrapping paper and the gentle closing of a door as he went back inside with the present.

Smiling to herself for a job well done, Beverly emerged from underneath the stairs, gazing up at Griffin's apartment door with a crooked smile. So maybe their relationship would never be repaired, and yeah, that sucked, but it was nice to know that he'd called out for her.

Grasping onto the straps of her backpack, she spun around, only to stop in her tracks abruptly. A young man stood in front of her, his beefy arms crossed over his chest, his eyes promising trouble.

I can't believe I came here by myself; I am an absolute idiot.

"Huh," he mused, his eyes doing a slow sweep of her entire body. "No duffel today, I see."

With her heart pounding in her ears, Beverly realized why he looked vaguely familiar: it was the same man who'd run into her several days ago and complimented Deb's duffel bag.

Oh, God.

"It's a shame it's missing," he continued with a wolfish grin. "Ah, well. Tell Deborah I said 'hello,' will you? I'll be visiting soon; maybe I'll get lucky, and you'll be there as well."

At the reminder of her roommate, and how erratic the girl had been acting lately, Beverly felt anger build up in her gut. "Leave Deb alone," she snapped. "You have no business being at our school, and I don't want to see you there again."