2 | Getting the Deets

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God, midterms sucked.

Beverly thought they were even worse than finals. At least with finals she had the reward of a long break before the next semester; with midterms, she was lucky to catch her breath before another assignment was due.

Walking out of her Biology class, she rolled her shoulders back and soaked in what little warmth the low-hanging autumn sun offered.

"Hey, Bev!" Beverly spun around, grinning brightly when her lab partner and friend, Alicia, jogged up to her. "How'd you do?"

She shrugged as they started walking through campus, fingers tapping an absent rhythm on the straps of her backpack. "Honestly? I have no idea. I felt okay about it, though, so that should count for something. Right?"

The tall girl next to her grinned, reaching up one hand to fluff up her dark hair. "It might as well. I think I nailed it, personally."

They both stopped walking, and Beverly eyed her companion for a beat before saying decisively, "In other words, you're hoping your positivity will somehow get you a better grade."

Alicia shoved her. "Silence, fool! And yes, that's exactly what I'm hoping." She slipped her phone out and glanced at it briefly, before looking up at the crosswalk they were standing in front of and grimacing. "Crap. I've gotta run if I don't want to be late for work. I'll see you around, Bev!"

The other girl was already darting away, and Beverly waved as she disappeared into the late-afternoon crowd. Resigning herself to a rather lonesome walk back to her dorm room, Beverly almost careened to a halt when she caught sight of a familiar sign on the opposite side of the street:

Cynthia's Coffeehouse.

The sign said they'd be closing in thirty minutes, but—after the many exhausting midterms—Beverly decided she had time for and greatly deserved a treat. And that double chocolate mocha had been one of the best things she'd ever tasted. Besides, she hadn't been back since her first time almost two weeks ago, so it wasn't like she was overdoing it or anything.

Checking for cars, she darted across the street, breathing in the many extravagant aromas as she pulled the door open.

"Hello, hello!"

Having expected a silent and adorably awkward Griffin behind the counter, Beverly almost fainted from shock at the cheerful, feminine voice. Eyes darting to the counter, she found a woman in her mid-thirties standing on the opposite side, with short red hair, bright green eyes, and a smile so wide it should have been painful.

"Hi," Beverly returned, stepping forward and settling her hands on the counter. "How are you today?"

The woman laughed and waved her off. "You're so sweet, hon! I'm just dandy, thanks for asking. What can I get for you today?"

Pulling her wallet out of her backpack, Beverly said, "The double chocolate mocha, please."

"Ah," the woman nodded, then leaned forward, as if telling a dark secret. "You like that one, eh? Glad to hear it." She leaned back, brushing some of her hair from her face before reaching down to take Beverly's offered cash. "My sole employee came up with it, you know—it's a top-secret recipe, though. He doesn't even tell me what's in the mix; he just makes it while I'm in the back office or away from the store."

Without even thinking about it, Beverly blurted, "Griffin came up with it?"

She shouldn't have been surprised, really. Griffin certainly seemed like the type to come up with something amazing, get compliments, and never outright take credit.

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