I Like You a Latte {Completed}

8 | Discussing the Ugly

"How'd you get here?" Griffin asked her as he locked his apartment door.

She prodded one of the loose wooden planks with her foot. "I walked. In hindsight, it was maybe sort of not my best decision—I'm lucky I didn't get kidnapped." It was meant as a joke, but Griffin remained unamused.

"I'm not trying to be controlling," he informed her as he started down the stairs, his hand hovering over the small of her back. "I can't help but worry about my, uh," he cleared his throat, "friends. I don't like Cynthia coming down here by herself, either."

Beverly shot him a playful grin. "Aw, we're friends? Thanks, Griffin, that means a lot!" She elbowed him gently in the side, and he huffed in mock offense. "And it's fine, I didn't think you were trying to be controlling, friend."

His lips ticked upwards. "Glad you aren't offended." Gesturing her towards a beat-up, dark blue Honda Accord, Griffin waited until she'd settled in the passenger seat before climbing in as well. "Do you own a car?"

She eyed him for a moment. His tone was nonchalant, but the question itself conveyed concern. "Nah. My parents drop me off at the start of the semester, and I take the bus or walk anywhere I need to go."

He nodded, starting up the engine and directing the vehicle out of the parking lot. "You can call me for that, too." His voice was quiet but firm, and his eyes were trained resolutely on the road ahead.

Beverly chuckled to herself—what an adorably concerned giant; he really was a sweetheart. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind, thanks." She twiddled her fingers in her lap, biting her tongue to keep the many questions she had from escaping.

The rest of the ride to the city's lakeside walking trail was silent, and Beverly was relieved when they exited the car and started on the paved path; the weather, thankfully, was a bit warmer than normal that day.

"Are you typically this quiet?" Griffin's question startled her, and her responding laugh was embarrassed and breathy.

"No," she admitted. "Not normally. I don't want to spook you, though, and if I don't watch myself, I'll ask you around a hundred questions and drive you insane."

There was a short pause, and then he murmured, "I don't mind. I may not answer everything, but I'll try."

Her steps were a bit bouncier after that, and she was practically skipping up the hill as she asked, "Is Cynthia your only family out here?"

"Yes." His gaze followed a cardinal as it darted through the trees overhead. "She took me in after my parents passed away. You?"

Beverly could tell that Griffin found talking about himself extremely painful; it was unbelievably kind of him to open up to her. "My parents live in the next state over with my younger sister and brother—they're twins, fourteen years old."

Griffin's smile was small but genuine. "I can see you as an older sister; you seem like a naturally caring person. Do you like having siblings?"

"Oh, absolutely! They can be trouble, but I love them both dearly."

Griffin nodded, his eyes far away as he absorbed the information. "Being an only child was lonely; you're lucky." Seeming to realize what he said, he tacked on a rushed, "Sorry. What I meant was—"

"Relax," she soothed gently, "it's fine; I know what you meant, and you're right—I am lucky."

"Why are you so nice to me?" Griffin asked abruptly, halting in his walk to turn and face her straight on—some part of Beverly (the part that wasn't stunned by his sudden lack of awkwardness) was pleased to see he was getting so comfortable with her. Mainly though, she was confused. The way he asked was almost hostile.