I Like You a Latte {Completed}

7 | Taking the Initiative (again)

Griffin lived on the fifth floor of an apartment building that was in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, according to the slip of paper Cynthia had given to her. Well, Cynthia hadn't outright said it was one of the worst places in the city, but a quick Google search had done that, since typing in the address had brought up a map and over fifty news articles reporting assaults, rapes, drug busts, and gunshots in the area in the past few months alone.

With this in the forefront of her mind, Beverly clutched the drinks close to her chest as she wandered past many questionable people and rundown buildings.

She didn't like to judge others by their appearances, but she couldn't help the anxiousness; just last week, a woman had been kidnapped and murdered in the same exact neighborhood, and she didn't want to star in a news piece of her own. She wasn't sure why Griffin lived in this particular area, and part of her wondered if he'd grown up there, which would partly explain his tattoos and mildly terrifying exterior. Beverly's anxiousness became obvious when she yelped and almost dropped the cups in her hands at the feeling of her phone buzzing in her back pocket. Letting her eyes sweep over her surroundings to ensure that none of the nearby individuals had seen her obvious discomfort, she blew out a sigh of relief when she only caught a grouchy woman snarling at her from the opposite side of the street.

Juggling the cups in her hands, she slipped her phone out and gazed at the screen, furrowing her brow in concern when she read Alicia's text: FYI, don't come back 2 campus, bc some students were drunk & trashed library, so whole place is locked down while they figure out who did it.

Beverly blew out an exhausted sigh. The entire mess of drug and alcohol abuse at her school was kept relatively quiet, even with the constant news reports. That fact could be seen if one considered that Beverly normally had to learn about any incidents through Alicia or another friend instead of campus officials; it was tiring to be constantly worried about what was going on and whether the students were being given the truth when the officials occasionally spoke up.

And if that's just on a college campus, she let her gaze drift back over the nearby passersby, imagine how bad it is off the campus. Shuddering at the thought, she sent Alicia a simple OK—thanks before shoving her phone back into her pocket and continuing on her way, keeping her head down and her steps quick.

It was a relief when she reached the apartment building—a relief that vanished as soon as a group of men in the parking lot started catcalling her. Sending up a prayer for safety, Beverly rushed up the wooden staircase settled on the exterior of the building.

"Where you goin', baby?" she heard one of them holler, and her shoes clattered on the stairs noisily as she picked up her pace.

Blowing out a haggard puff of air when she reached apartment 505, she juggled the cups in one arm and reached up with the other to rap her knuckles across the faded blue paint of the door. Unknowingly holding her breath now, Beverly waited intently as the latch clicked on the other side, and the door opened to reveal Griffin, looking as handsome as ever. 

He stared at her for several long beats, and—

Closed the door in her face without a single word.

No doubt looking like a dead fish with her jaw hanging open, Beverly gazed at the door unblinkingly.

God, I'm an idiot. What am I even doing here? I should've never listened to Cynthia; now I'll have to turn around, walk past all those creeps again, and I'll probably get murdered, and then I'll never get my degree or have a future and—

The door swung open again, ceasing her internal scolding, and Griffin looked her up and down twice before swallowing audibly. "What are you doing here?" he croaked, shifting from foot to foot.