The Real Side Effects of Coffee

Chapter 1: Green Tea is not Pretentious

I don't think the new guy is cute. He just reminds me of my favorite coffee. Arabian dark roast. His eyes looks like the coffee bean, and his hair looks like it liquified. Yeah, I'm a creeper, as Rashelle puts it oh so nicely. I can't help it! He's got those freckles the color of cocoa dust I like to put on my whip cream.

Ok, maybe he's a little cute.

"You're doing it again," Rashelle says smiling.

"Doing what?" I ask looking back at her from behind my computer screen.

"You're looking at the new guy like he's a new type of coffee just waiting to be tried."

"No I'm not," I defend, looking back down at my computer. My blank college personal statement stares back at me.

I run my fingers through my hair, but it's not a smooth ride through. They get stopped and hitch through my tangles. Let's just say I'm not a fan of doing my hair. Or doing anything that isn't related to me getting the hell out of Gatlin.

"You didn't brush your hair? Even though you think you don't have a crush on him, you could at least try to look representable when you leave your house."

"This is representable," I say motioning my hand from the top of my head down to my feet.

Rashelle gives me that exasperated look, the one that says, Seriously. My dad gives me the same look everyday. I don't wear what's "acceptable" for a girl. I wear sweat pants, the kind that doesn't hug my butt, if there was one existing where one should. Over that I wear a too baggy shirt, with a tanktop underneath because the mouth of the shirt falls off my shoulders.

Rashelle shakes her head, "It's such a shame, you're such a pretty skinny bitch. It's truly hard to come by now adays." I pull out my wallet. "Watch the language," I warn her as I get up to go and buy myself another coffee. Rachelle holds up her hand and puts down four fingers. "How many damn coffees are you going to drink?"

"This one isn't a coffee. It's a frappucino."

"You mean a fancy milkshake?" she rolls her eyes and pulls out a book from her bag and opens it up.

But I know she's only using it as a guise. She's hoping that somehow I'll miraculously grow a pair of balls and talk to the guy who reminds me of my favorite coffee. Or maybe she's hoping my tall cup of coffee will suddenly find a girl like me interesting or appealing. She can go on hoping that, nothing is going to happen.

The fact that I know that hurts, but it's the truth. I get behind a posse of girls who giggle, and it's not all that hard to figure out they're gossiping about him. I mean they're talking about his dark roasted brown eyes, and curly delicious creamy hair, and boy did I need to stop eye boggling him. But damn!

I shake my head and realize that he's calling out to me, and has been calling out to me. With a mental face palm I step forward and give him a meek smile. "Sleepy are we?" he asks, his voice just as deep as the color of his eyes. Focus, focus. I shake my head, too flustered to find my voice. "So what can I get you to wake up?" he asks.

In my head I go through the list of coffees I've had today. An espresso shot, an iced coffee, an americano, and a caramel macchiato. "Whoa, you've drunk all that and you're still not awake? Man you must be one heavy sleeper." I look up at him and stare blankly, did I just think aloud? "Yeah, you're kind of thinking out loud," coffee guy says. I do a double take and feel my cheeks redden.

He laughs at me and punches something into the register. "How about another espresso shot, it'll be on the house." And without thinking I add in, "And a green tea frappuccino." Coffee boy stops his eyebrows raised and scrunched together. "We have green tea frappuccinos? Isn't that a bit pretentious?"