The Coffee Pact

10| Sucker for pain

On Monday morning, Jake isn't by the ice patch as usual, so I'm forced to cross it alone. It feels strange that he's not here, but I push it to the back of my mind. Wherever Jake is, it's not my business.

Priya is waiting at my locker. I open the door, glancing down the hall to see if Jake has turned up, but he's nowhere to be seen, which means he's late. It's not exactly unusual, but the change in our routine makes me anxious.

"What's wrong?" Priya asks as we head to class.

I bite at my cheek, unable to shake this feeling. "Nothing, don't worry."

At lunch, I finally see him. He walks into the cafeteria as Priya and I are eating, scanning the hall like he's looking for someone. His eyes fall on me, slow and deliberate. He beckons me over, and I raise an eyebrow and let Priya know before I follow him out into the hall.

I stare at him without speaking, because he looks different somehow. Not physically, but he's not himself. He's not smiling for once, and his blue eyes are dull, no longer gleaming with mischief.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "Nothing, I just want to get this essay over with. You wanna go to the library?"

I'm confused by the change in his tone, but instead of asking questions, I nod. We cut across the field to the library, not speaking a word. Something is definitely wrong.

We get to the doors, and I can't take the silence anymore. "Have you ever been to the library before?"

When he shakes his head, I am horrified. About halfway up the steps, he starts complaining that there are too many stairs and then stops to take a break.

I'm not impressed. "Aren't you supposed to be an athlete?" I ask, but all he can do as he hunches over is glare.

On the top floor, we take a seat on the couch by the window, which Jake stares out of wordlessly. It feels strange being in this library with him and not Priya, like I'm ruining our safe space.

Slowly, I turn to look at him. His eyes have softened, and he's staring out the window like there's something on his mind.

Finally, I say, "Is something wrong, Jake? You're in a strange mood today."

Jake looks up, surprised. He throws his book aside and says, "You know you're the only one to notice?"

So I was right. I hesitate, and then say, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to talk about why you're afraid to fall asleep?"

For a moment, I'm shocked. Shocked that he's figured it out, and shocked that he's asking me. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on," he says, his eyes darkening. "You're a zombie half the time, Hope. You're addicted to coffee, you stay up all night in that cafe. I'm not an idiot, I know it's because you don't want to sleep." He leans in closer until there's only a hair's breadth between us. "Question is: why?"

I fall completely still, both out of anger and the shock at him being so close. "You don't know what you're talking about."

His gaze is unwavering. "I think I do."

I hate that he's doing this right now, or even at all. Who does he think he is, demanding to know all my secrets? "Stop deflecting." I don't move away when I say it, because I know that's what he expects me to do. "I can tell when something is wrong, Jake. Just tell me."

"I'm not deflecting," he says. "I'm just saying, you can't expect people to spill all their secrets when you're not prepared to spill yours."

"Fine," I say. "You don't want to tell me what your problem is? That's absolutely fine, Jake. Let's get on with the essay, then." But I don't move away, and neither does he.