Adrenaline: An Ode to Love and Heartbreak

by Sunniva Dee

  “Your insults, my love…” He lets go of my hands and cups my face across the little table. Sucks me into a deep kiss. “Then again,” he mumbles, continuing his thought. “Where would my Ingela be if I straightened you out? You’re fucking perfect as you are.”

  This trip has been nothing short of incredible. I stare at Cameron next to me on the plane back to Deepsilver, and I’m smiling big for no reason other than what an amazing time we had.

  He raises a brow, amusement tugging at his lips too. “You happy?”

  “Yeah.” As I say it, I realize I could totally cry right now. I’d come off bat shit nuts for bawling over happiness, though, so I’m glad I can hold back.

  “You’re funny.”

  “Who, me?” I nudge my head under his chin to hide. Suddenly, I feel more exposed than when I’m naked under his hungry gaze. “Why?”

  “Because you’re totally about to weep.”

  “‘Weep,’ does that sound like something old ladies do in movies?” I ask to sidetrack him.

  “Yep, you’re an old lady in a movie. What’re you crying about?”

  “Nothing. Guess it’s just that I’m content.” I breathe out. It’s strange—I feel like I’m about to confess something huge. “Honestly, I haven’t been this happy in years. My life’s good right now, Cam, and you’re a huge part of that.”

  “Really now?” Cameron drags out the first word. He sounds like he has discovered the groundbreaking clue in a crime mystery. “Little Inga likes me? Really likes me?” Again with the drawn-out first syllables. He pecks the top of my head, waiting for an answer.

  “I love you,” I mumble. How weird. How weird it is to say that to someone else. These words, they used to be for Bo only.

  Cameron stills. Then, he bows his arms closer around me. Presses me into him so hard. “Do you, baby? Love me? Really-really?”

  “Really-really.”

  “Shit yeah. I love you too.”

  “I know. And you’re crazy.”

  “For you.”

  “No—well—but crazy in general. You’re, like, the worst gay ever to love.”

  And then he laughs again. Bellow-laughs. Cam is a total weirdo and I love, love, love him so much.

  “I’m a ‘guy,’ Inga. Not ‘gay.’ So not gay.”

  I’ve been walking around with a dopey smile for days now, even though we’re hardcore studying and I might fail English Lit. Spanish I’ll pass for sure. Cam’s got a photographic memory, it seems. He’s a speed reader too, so classes are easy for him. Straight As across the board so far, he says. If the statement is comparable to his penis-bragging, I’m not worried.

  With finals a week away, both of us have toned down our shifts at Smother more than ever. I crave Lyric, though, so I usually pop by between classes to snuggle my godchild.

  Tonight, I’m working. It’s Tuesday and besides my fan-boys—now reduced to three die-hards—it’s completely dead at Smother. Tara and I man the main bar, Manuel runs the kitchen, and Arria takes care of the patio bar herself. The weather’s too nice to close it, she says.

  “So, you and Cameron, huh?” Tara has a doughy smirk and a deceiving glint in her eye. We don’t have much in common so we don’t usually talk a lot. Especially since I started spending more time with Cameron.

  I’ve told him what I think of Tara. She just seems slimy to me. Slime-ball lady. It’s no secret that she’s had one-offs with several of the bartenders—and Robin too. But now she’s all into my business, elbows on the bar top next to the sink, and hips wiggling to get comfortable. Girl’s getting ready for gossip. About me and my boyfriend.

  “Yep, me and Cameron,” I confirm.

  Back off, bitch.

  “Anyways, seen any good movies lately?” My attempt at diversion doesn’t work. Amused, she acts like she’s thinking. Then, she hums out a “no” before going back to prodding.

  “So, how did you tie him down anyway? Did you get pregnant or something?” She lets out a conceited snicker, consolidating my annoyance with her. I don’t trust her at all. I have this strange sensation that she’ll ruin things for people for the fun of watching.

  “Nah, no need to get tricky on him.”

  Tara’s pupils widen with resentment or envy. I’m not sure which and don’t care. “Weird,” she mutters. “Because Cam isn’t exactly the type for the old ball and chain.”

  I flick the cap off a beer for Troy or Roy. He winks at me, holding the wink long enough for me to notice, and I reward him with a loud air kiss.

  “Ha. Ha. There’re no wedding bells, Tara,” I say, which makes her cut into a hard, fake laugh.

  “Omigod, yeah—that’d be the day. Cameron giving up on the field to be with one woman for the rest of his life when he can’t even stick to one at a time for sex.”

  I instantly think of Cameron’s constant invitations to threesomes. They became all but nonexistent after the first time we slept together, though. He wouldn’t be propositioning others for them still, would he?

  Tara is snaring me in. I need to not feed into the crazy she’s whipping up. She’s a freaking snake. Snaky. Is that a word?

  I can’t help it—

  “What are you talking about, Tara?”

  Turning, she leans a pillowy hip to the counter. Ruffles her hair with spread fingers. Those wavy bronze curls are her prettiest feature. As if reading my thoughts, she floats a glance to my bob. “Oh, nothing. Don’t you love his face when he comes? He goes like this—”

  She stops talking, opens her mouth slightly and puckers her lips. Heavy eyelids complete the look, and I know—know—that she has slept with him.

  My palm stings, and my fan-boy group stares at me like I’m out of my mind. In front of me, Tara covers her cheek, her eyes bulging with shock. I don’t care about anything right now. I grab her throat like guys do on TV. Then, I shove her into the wall shelf. Bottles rock precariously, and one smashes to the floor.

  “What the hell did you do with Cameron?”

  She sputters, small chubby hands trying to get rid of mine from around her neck. Yeah? She wants the pressure gone?

  How about this!

  I let go and slap her in the face again. In my peripheral vision, I catch Ginger Fan-boy getting up and scurrying off.

  “I’m going to fucking destroy you!” I shout. “Tell me. Tell me now!”

  “You’re crazy,” she whimpers.

  Fine with me.

  “BB Beth and I slept with him. It was just once at her house.”

  I can’t believe this. Seriously? He had that threesome he’s been prattling about—and with fucking Tara? “Why the hell would he be with you, you… whore!”

  There’s nothing rational about me right now. The rage is devouring me. I’m rattling off my favorite Swedish cusswords and shaking her against the wall.

  I can’t stand the thought of him being with this piece of shit girl.

  I can’t stand the thought of seeing her face ever again.

  He did not do this. She’s lying. The picture of him on top of her, immersed in the bliss he only experiences with me—me—not Tara or freaking—Beth.

  Shit!

  A strong arm grabs my midsection and tears me off Tara.

  “Ingela. Calm down.” It’s Leon. Of course, cowardly Ginger Fan-boy went to get him, that snitch. I hate him too. “What the hell is going on here?”

  Tara’s eyes well with crocodile tears. “She’s crazy, Leon. She attacked me, asking about Cameron and me.”

  Cameron and her?

  “She’s a fucking bitch! When was it, Tara? When!” I’m panting with fury and heartbreak. More fucking heartbreak?

  Oh hell no—no one’s giving me another heartbreak. That son of a bitch.

  “Enough!” Leon’s command is definite. You do not mess with Leon. Only I’m dying from the inside out, the picture of Cameron moving on top of this ugly roly-poly chick—

  “When? Fuck you!”

  As Leon jerks me away from the bar and points
at Robin—“Get Arria. Now.”—Tara shouts her reply out over the music.

  “I don’t know, last time you were studying and he worked? He’s delicious, Inga. I’ll take his monster any day.”

  I can’t even talk right now. I’m hyperventilating with anger and fear for my future. For the happiness I just found. This?

  Is a nightmare. And I want to wake up.

  Arria’s lap is soft and warm. We’re upstairs, and I’m crying into her shirt in long, hard sobs. I’ve told her how it started downstairs. Tara’s version is completely different, but both Leon and Arriane trust my honesty.

  “I’m going to kill the BB girl too,” I say.

  “No, you’re not,” Arria murmurs. “What you’re going to do is talk with your boyfriend to find out what really happened. You’re a grown woman, and you’re going to handle this like one and not like you’re on the Jerry Springer show.”

  “What spring show?”

  “Never mind. Don’t ever watch daytime TV.”

  The door opens and closes. “Is she gone?” Arriane asks, voice low.

  “Yeah. I’m closing the patio bar and letting Jason do the main bar until I’m back down,” Leon replies.

  These people are my family in America. I shouldn’t have put them in this situation; Leon just fired Tara over me. “I’m sorry,” I croak.

  “No. There’s more to the story with Tara,” Arria says. “She needed to go. She—”

  “Arriane,” Leon warns, and she stops explaining. “Yeah, right. Anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

  I envy their easy understanding of each other’s gestures and thoughts. Single words. Cameron and I, we had potential too. I really, really liked him.

  At that, I cry. Cry again while Arriane’s hand smoothens my hair. “You’ll see, Inga. It’s all a misunderstanding. Believe me, when you’re in the room, the only person that boy sees is you.”

  “But what about when I’m not in the room, Arria? Never mind, you don’t understand. Leon wouldn’t dream of cheating on you. Cam’s different; he’ll do anything for a high. Look at him—he’s a fucking adrenaline junkie. I don’t know what I was thinking. I go from one idiot who can’t love me enough to another who gets a rush out of loving everyone. I’m a fool.”

  “Shhh, no way. I’m calling Cameron, all right? You guys need to work this out.”

  “Hell no. I don’t want to see his ugly face.”

  “Hmmm.”

  My entire body twists with sadness, the tears never-ending.

  “Inga. Inga, please.” Arriane lifts my face from her lap so I’m forced to meet her gaze. “Oh God, you feel too much, you know that? Just relax. Listen, you’ll sleep on the couch here tonight. Then, in the morning, you need to talk this out with Cameron. Have a fight, whatever. Slap him silly. I don’t care.

  “But the one thing you’re not doing is that stupid romance novel prank where you believe something happened, then you break up without telling him why, and then you both spend precious time being miserable.”

  My breath quivers on each inhale. I’m pitiful. All of this over a fucking guy. Again. Who the hell am I? Oh right, I’m Ingela, that Swedish chick who loooves to repeat her sad love stories.

  “Okay. I’ll sleep over. I’m not seeing him tomorrow, though. I’ll never see him again. I’m moving.”

  “Like the last time?”

  Shut up? She’s supposed to be my friend.

  “Isn’t that why you came to the US in the first place?”

  “What, shouldn’t I have come?” I’m getting angry at her now too. I’ll fucking move back to Sweden in a heartbeat. There’s nothing left for me here. My friend isn’t my friend anymore, Cameron only wants me as part of his harem, and my studies, they—well… anyways.

  “No, Inga. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m so happy you’re here. You know you’re my BFF,” she states what she’s never actually expressed before. A flutter of satisfaction runs through me, relieving my resentment for her. To stomach that too right now would have been the death of me.

  The first moments after I wake up are a haze of blissful ignorance. They last because I’m on an unfamiliar couch. Then, the couch isn’t unfamiliar, it’s Arriane’s, and I’m confused as to why I’m here.

  When realization sets in, it dumps clay bricks on my chest and I can’t breathe. I just recently admitted my feelings for Cameron, but after Tara, they’re so powerful I’m shattering.

  This is Bo all over again, only he never cheated on me. He’d break up before he took to other women. Cameron—

  Is a fucking asshole.

  I think of what Arria said about facing him. Yesterday, avoidance seemed like a great idea. If only I were that girl, the one who pulls off miffed and acting like someone is air. No. I’ve never done passive-aggressive.

  I do aggressive.

  I grab my clothes and head to the bathroom. Get dressed and rush out before Arriane wakes up. Last minute, I turn to leave a note in the kitchen because I don’t want her to worry.

  A glance at my watch shows six a.m. I speed walk home. Suddenly I can’t wait to see his cheating face and give him so much shit he’ll never be the same again. Sweet Jesus, I want to slay him. The lump in my throat threatens to burst, but I’m not crying for the bastard.

  Fuck.

  I mean, I probably will, just not now.

  I lock myself into my apartment. Tiptoe down the hall to my room and slide the door open. Idly, I think of how Maria’s bound for an early wakeup call. It can’t be helped. I’ve been quiet until now, but I won’t be whispering out my complaints to Cameron.

  A beam from the bathroom adds light to his shaded features. Long, thick limbs fan wide on my bed. Bent at the elbow, the arm closest to me invites, generosity and love in one unconscious pose. He was waiting, embrace at the ready, until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

  Regret pangs in my chest over the darkness I’m about to paint. He looks so innocent. Young. So… like he believes in our future.

  My guilt is irrational, because he did this. He’s who cheated on us. With not one, but two women.

  I sink down on my haunches in front of his face. A chunk of blond hair dishevels across his forehead and caresses an eyebrow. I always loved his eyebrows. They’re manly and naturally groomed at once. Cameron is so fast asleep his eyelids don’t even flutter. His lips are parted with a hint of teeth beneath. God. No one kisses like Cameron.

  My loose plan was to slap him awake. Now I can’t. Why did he kiss someone else? Or did he “just” tap those skanks? I’m about to cry—until he puckers his lips the tiniest bit in sleep and I remember the sweet face he makes when he comes.

  He made that face to her. To Tara.

  “Fuck you, Cameron,” I say still crouched in front of him. My voice is day-to-day business loud, waking him up. I watch as he goes through the same just-awake ignorance I went through earlier. His in-between stage lasts shorter than mine before his smile spreads at seeing me.

  “Baby—you’re home.” He turns on his side to grab me, but I meet his hands and throw them back. That beautiful smile dies in confusion.

  “Don’t you touch me, you cheater!”

  He’s wide awake. Sits up on his elbows and squints at me. “What? I’m a what now?”

  “You slept with Beth and Tara, you asshole. Fucking had a threesome with them last week. Did you even use protection? Do I have AIDS now thanks to you and your loose dick?”

  “No, I did not sleep with—”

  “Really? You’re going to fucking deny it too? That’s real nice. Go for avoidance, right? Good call. Perfect.” I keep spewing sarcasms until I get back on track. I need the upper hand in all senses of the expression, so I jump on top of him, legs spread over his body, pinning him down. He lets me. Stares up at me with those stunning eyes. It’s too dark to see their color this morning, but I sense that they’re greener than ever.

  Ahhh, fuck him.

  “Tara had the best time now that I finally was at work with
out you,” I growl. “She described how you look when you come. She had you down to a T—strange, right? As far as I know, we haven’t done it in front of her.”

  “Inga, please. It’s not what you think.”

  “Oh my God!” I whip my head back, glaring at the ceiling. “Really? People actually say that here? I’ve heard it on film, and whenever they say it, it’s exactly what it looks like.”

  I’m yelling, and Maria has the balls to knock on the wall.

  “Shut up, Maria!” I holler. If this were Bo, he would have told me to keep it down. Cameron never worries about how we appear to outsiders. He doesn’t stop me.

  “She’s lying, Ingela. I’ve only touched her once, and that was weeks ago. When you went to Talco to meet up with your ex.”

  “Really? You calling her a liar?”

  Of course she’s a liar.

  “Yes, I am.”

  I push his arms into the mattress. The plan was to grab his wrists, but he enlaces our fingers. Eyes twinkling in the daylight rising outside, he holds my gaze, unafraid. He looks so honest. God. But—

  “Was it good? Huh? Did you love sleeping with her, you bastard!”

  “No, I didn’t. It wasn’t good at all.”

  “Right.” I laugh, heartbroken. “Did you come? Because if you did, then you sure as hell enjoyed it.”

  Maria knocks again. I make out “TMI” and “fight somewhere else.”

  “No, you get lost,” I yell at the top of my lungs. She instantly starts moving around in there, slamming closet doors and drawers.

  “Of course I came. I’m a dude. Doesn’t mean I liked it.”

  I slap his face. His sweet, sweet face that I love so much. “Why the fuck did you do it, then? Did you come with Beth too?”

  I don’t want his answers, but I can’t vanquish my questions. Every reply he gives implodes in my stomach like a fireball.

  From his sincere expression, Cameron isn’t backing away from the truth. Faintly, I acknowledge that we’re both new at this; I don’t know how to stop asking, and he doesn’t realize he should suppress his replies. He must believe that full disclosure helps.

  “I actually didn’t come in Tara. It was with Beth—”

  “Came in? Came fucking in?” Oh shit, all I can see is him coming inside another girl. My arms go like windmills. Hitting, reaching for his neck to strangle—I don’t know what the hell—anything to make him feel so much pain.