The Coffee Pact

5| Kickin' the habit

I once read that coffee is the most consumed psychoactive substance. It functions as a central nervous system stimulant, meaning it affects neural activity in the brain and increases alertness while reducing fatigue–the reason it keeps us awake. If the body ever becomes dependent on caffeine, then going cold turkey can cause withdrawal symptoms roughly one day after quitting.

So, that's the reason for my splitting headache at three in the morning. I toss and turn, telling myself that I don't need coffee, that Jake Carpenter isn't right about me, that I'm not some kind of caffeine addict, but as the night stretches on, the symptoms get worse.

I head downstairs and stand in the kitchen, looking at the coffee pot. One cup would make the headache go away, and Jake would never know. But I can't do it. My conscience won't let me. Even if Jake would never know what I did, I would, and I don't want to win this bet by being dishonest, I want to win it fair and square.

It takes another minute to look away. I don't need this. I don't. If former alcoholics can quit alcohol and ex-drug addicts drugs, then I can certainly quit coffee. How hard can it be?

I breathe in slowly, then breathe out. There's a lot to be said for breathing techniques because my headache starts to ease. I pull open the drawer and grab the painkillers, taking two of them dry. I glance at the coffee machine again. This is ridiculous. I am standing in the dark, in the middle of the night, staring at a coffee machine.

I look like an addict.

They say the only way to break a bad habit is to replace it with a better one, so I pour myself a cold glass of water. It doesn't taste nearly as pleasant, but it quenches my thirst.

I'm not addicted to coffee. This is just a temporary headache, a headache probably caused by the stress of being stalked by Jake Carpenter. The morning will be better, I'm sure of it.

***

The morning is not better, it's worse. My headache turns from a constant dull ache to a hammer being bashed against my skull. When my phone buzzes, I cover my ears and reach beneath my pillow, expecting it to be Priya. It's not like I only have one friend or something, but well, I do.

To my horror, it's not Priya. Instead, it's a text from the reason I have a headache in the first place: Jake Carpenter.

Don't forget the coffee house tonight.

Fantastic.

Jake is waiting in the parking lot for me when I get to the black ice. He steps beside me and offers out his arm. When I give him a look, he says, "Why do you even walk to school?"

"Because I hate public transport."

He sighs like this is somehow annoying to him, me walking to school. Then he grabs my arm and helps me through the slippery path. "If you drove or got the bus like a normal person, you wouldn't have to walk the ice path. There's a reason no one walks this way. Timmy Redwood broke his back on the same black ice last year and is wheelchair-bound for life."

I'd heard about Timmy's accident. He was a popular senior who seemed to be here one day and gone the next. But despite his injury, the school never closed the path. It's the easiest path to take when you're walking to school, and even though it's a pain trying to cross the black ice, I will never ride the bus again.

"Thanks for your concern," I say.

"You're insane," he replies.

We're getting closer to the main entrance. I start to feel nervous, like maybe someone is about to turn their head and see us walking together.