Adrenaline: An Ode to Love and Heartbreak

by Sunniva Dee

  “Make her feel better?” I’m roaring, and my head is exploding. “The guy needs to get a life and get the fuck out of Inga’s. He needs to get every bone in his body crushed!”

  “Cameron, calm down. It’s not what you think, I’m sure,” she says as I stalk out the door.

  “Think?’” I scoff. As long as he’s within finger-length of her, it’s damn obvious what they’re up to. Only thing is, as far as I’m concerned, Inga was just mad at me. She was hurt, ran off, but never once did we break up.

  The guy’s messing with my girlfriend, and he’s not fucking getting away with it. The heartbreak and sadness he drags her through every time makes no sense to me, but I sure as hell grasp what has to be done right now.

  Arriane’s voice rattles as she bounces down the stairs behind me. “Cam, be rational. Oh Lord, I shouldn’t have told you.” As always, she calls her boyfriend when there’s trouble. Screw that.

  “Butt out, Arria,” I say and slam the car door against her wide eyes. The drive to Inga’s takes five minutes. My blood simmers the whole way, and the wet afternoon air lifts the fog of my concussion.

  I can’t wait to take on this asshole.

  Inga’s door rattles as I pound, but I don’t say a word so as not to give myself away. What if she’s in bed with him right now? I want to rip the guy off her, splinter glass everywhere by crashing him through the window. The thought doesn’t make me feel better. It just clouds my vision.

  “Inga,” I yell anyway. “Open the damn door!”

  The click of the lock bounces off the walls in the stairway. The door slides open, and inside’s a rocker type guy with dyed black hair. I examine him. Dude’s my size. Wiry type of muscular, a lightweight. He’s pale, like all he does is sit inside and twang on a crappy guitar, and he’s got eyes similar to Inga’s. I’ll kick his ass so fast he’ll never know what hit him.

  I shove both hands into his torso, his chest pretty much concaving with the impact.

  “You Bo?” I ask. Shove again, harder this time, causing the air to hiss out of his lungs. He doesn’t moan or grunt. “Answer, you scum.” Angry adrenaline takes over my brain.

  “Yeah, I’m Bo,” he says, meeting my stare. He’s not afraid, which makes me see red. “You Cameron, I suppose?” he continues.

  “Got that right,” I reply, land a punch at the side of his pretty-boy face, and step into the room after him. “Where is she, huh? Huh!”

  “At the store.” He avoids another swing of my fist, but I hook around his arm, twist, and press him up against the wall of the hallway leading to her room.

  “You came to mess with her again, didn’t you? Mess her up some more?”

  “No, I didn’t,” he says. The coward isn’t fighting back. Instead, he dodges and retreats into the corridor. I follow. I get in another great punch to his head. He closes his eyes for an instant but still doesn’t emit a single sound of pain. It’s pissing me off. Dude needs to suffer hard.

  “So Cameron, the threesome guy, huh?” he puffs as we barge in the door to Inga’s room. “Smart.” He stumbles and falls, head hitting the bedframe on the way. For an instant, he grimaces at the pain.

  “It was before we started dating,” I roar. I’m so sick of this whole thing. “She doesn’t listen.” He’s not my confessor, no, he’s her tormentor, the other guy, the one who’s caused her agony for years—

  “Shit, and you? How have you been stringing her along all this time? You’re insane,” I shout between punches to his face on the floor. “That’s straight out evil. What I did was stupid, but it was once and before Inga and I even…” I’m on repeat and cut myself off.

  He pulls me down tight so I can’t get in more jabs. We’re both grunting as he works to tip me over. Asshole wants to be on top, but it’s not happening. He’s the featherweight. He’s strong, though, and doesn’t let go. Time to launch a jawbreaker.

  “Cameron!” Ingela shrieks behind me. “Get off him! Are you crazy?” Then, she jumps on my back, and fucking—

  Bites my ear until I howl. What the hell? Yeah, I release him; she gets her wish. Until I grab my—my—girlfriend and push her onto the bed.

  “We had an argument, and you ran back to your ex?” I shout. Kiss her hard on the mouth.

  “No, I didn’t. He called me, I was sad, and he flew here,” she says.

  “Yeah, was it good? Did you enjoy his dick in you again? Like always? Like every time you see him? Like Talco? Los Angeles? Every… ah.”

  I let go of her and push my fingers into my hair. My stomach—it’s revolting. My head’s on fire. My heart, my damn heart—it’s got to be bleeding. All of this is her doing. This chick, she’s killing me.

  I can jump off a cliff any day. I’d do the Cloud Bridge, four thousand feet into an abyss I might not survive. But the rush, the fear—what I’m feeling right now as I open my eyes and stare into her wild ones—is bigger, scarier, fucking way too much for me.

  I’m so out of my league. Shoot me, I should not have gone after her in the first place. I’m consumed by jealousy in ways I’ve never experienced before. Thinking of her with someone else, and that someone standing right behind me. That bed. They’ve been screwing on her bed. I’m losing control, so hard.

  “Oh baby,” she murmurs as I throw up. “Don’t… please don’t think—”

  In the bathroom, I hunch over her toilet, hands braced over the water tank, and let the chicken soup well out of me. Her body tightens against my back, enfolding me.

  “I didn’t, Cam. We didn’t.”

  “Damn.” Dan’s face twists as he attempts to get what just happened. “So… you fought with her ex, hurled, and ran like a girl?”

  “I got scared.” I’m sitting on my bed, forehead in my palms and thumbs digging into my temples in an effort to stop the fireworks from crackling off in there. “Fucking A. Don’t ever get a concussion. You can’t even—”

  “—get in a brawl?” Dan smirks. “So what scared you? The big bad ex? Was he gonna obliterate your little-girl ass? Oooh,” he whiny-sings the last word.

  Just lifting my head from my hands destroys me right now. Clearly, the whole live in the dark, don’t study, blah-blah, was for a reason. I guess the doc knew what she was talking about. Only she factored out girls driving a guy crazy. Which is what scared the living daylights out of me.

  “Dan, okay.” I blow out hard, because my heart has contracted a whole bunch of new nerves. It’s suddenly got a grid of them that’s constricting, and it’s fucking…

  Incarcerating it.

  This is terrifying. I have no problem admitting it either. One thing is to hunt down the chick you want, even keep her around for a moment. But now, this crazy, hot, silly, sexy, complicated woman is the one trapping me, and the devil knows how that happened. Once I realized what she’d done, the ex was back in town. So many stupid-ass feelings I never even—

  Never mind.

  I’m furious.

  “Dan,” I groan out. “Never get with girls who’re more than just a lay, all right?”

  “Not planning on it.” He rips a hair from his nostril, sniffing to counteract the sting. “Told you, remember, that you’re whipped? Cam’s scared of the pussy.”

  “Don’t call her that!”

  As I yell it, Dan stares at me in the mirror, eyes wide with surprise. Mine are equally wide, because that barged out on its own. We don’t go out of our way to defend girls’ honor. Not that we don’t respect them—sometimes we do—but there’s no need to correct totally acceptable guy slang for a female when it’s just us.

  “All riiight.” He drags it out to annoy me. “Let me reword that. Do you feel fearful of the fair maiden?”

  “Zip it. You’d understand if you’d ever dealt with the sort of shit I’m dealing with right now.”

  “Love?” Dude has the audacity to waggle his brows at me. He’s swung from his reflection to really get a good look at my reaction. I think I hate him.

  “Despicable,” I mutter. “Whate
ver. Maybe.”

  “Oh fuck,” he mutters low. “You’re admitting it? That’s just…” He shakes his head. “You know, you’ll never get your mind back in the game if you’re lost in some love-sap story with a chick. Remember Tony?”

  “I’m not like him.”

  “Right, is he or is he not just totally out of the picture now? At home? With his soon-to-be-wife and even finishing up a degree he’d never thought twice about before? Dude’s, like, becoming a respectable citizen.”

  My brain presses against my forehead. Any minute now, it’ll break through. My thoughts—hopefully my pain too—will seep out in a pink goop. I can’t help snickering. Between my obvious heart problem and my brain, I’m, let’s just say, not in a good place.

  “Funny you should mention that,” I say. In theory, I mean what I’m about to ask him. In practice, I want to crack my skull open, the sooner the better, and get rid of everything inside so I can lie down and relax. Theory wins, though, because I am me, and nothing, certainly no one, will change that. What makes the world go round and my life worth living is—

  Snowboarding. Bungee jumping. Flying.

  —Fucking flying.

  “You coming to Red Boulder Canyon?” I ask.

  His eyes dart my way as fast as a rat’s. “When? That’s bullshit, right? You’re not back to the Cloud Bridge plan, are you?”

  “Can’t think of a better time for a decent skydive.”

  Dan smirks, less worried than when I last mentioned it. “Is it all planned out?”

  “Yeah. Full-on. Plus, the recon with Inga gave some serious insight.”

  “The pussy who’s obliterating my buddy?” He’s doing it on purpose. This time, I’m prepared, so I’m not working myself up. Instead, I close my eyes again over the pain in my head. Physical, emotional—whatever. Shit, I wish…

  I fucking wish so much was different.

  “Anyways,” I say. “I’m going. I’ll get you a free plane ticket if you want.”

  “Patrick?” he asks unnecessarily.

  “Yep.”

  “Pilot issues. Too many flyer miles. Does your brother ever question you about your death wishes?”

  I lift my shoulders and let them fall. “Fuck you. You comin’ or not?”

  “You’ve got a concussion. You’re not thinking straight over some chick. The odds of something going awry when—”

  “I said, ‘Fuck. You.’”

  What the hell did I do? I stare at Bo across from me. I’ve never seen anyone scramble out of my way quicker than Cameron just did.

  “He left…” I trail off like they do on film. It’s ridiculous.

  “He sure did.” Nordic winter eyes squint in a mixture of laughter and sadness on my behalf.

  “Why? I tried everything, Bo.” Really. I really truly did. Cameron didn’t let me talk, though. Why didn’t he let me explain?

  “He didn’t look too good,” Bo says, not answering my question. He rubs his jaw, soft stubbles giving to his touch.

  No matter the love I feel for someone else, I’ll never not remember what this man has been to me. After what Bo just went through, I’d hate for him to worry about returning to L.A. with a swollen face.

  A quick scan of him makes me realize he’ll leave with bruises no matter what. I’d like to avoid the swelling at least. “I’ve got a bag of frozen mini-broccolis,” I tell him.

  “You want to heal me with vegetables?” His voice has the silky pitch that always made the adrenaline spike in my veins. He has no idea of the effect he has with that tone. Anything female seems to react this way to him—heck, even my cat at home in Sweden.

  Bo doesn’t understand, though. More than once, I’ve had a jealous fit over what was his polite response to some girl’s questions after a concert. He’s just intimate-sounding.

  I hold the frozen veggies to his lip, and Bo closes his eyes, letting me. “Inga, I don’t know Cam, but it’s damn clear that he’s got it hard for you.”

  “Between trying to kill you and running off, he has a strange way of showing it,” I say.

  “I can have a chat with him.”

  Despite myself, that makes me chuckle. “After what he did? You’re nuts.”

  Bo shrugs, holding on to the frozen bag himself, now. “No, I get it. As I said, he’s into you. Deep. Makes me wonder if I’ll ever feel that strongly for someone.”

  In stark colors, he just admitted to his non-spectacular love for me. This isn’t new. He has said it in smaller words before, but his actions and absentminded response speak for themselves.

  Disappointment still dips in my chest, because again it reminds me of the years we spent together. Minutes, hours, days, months embracing every nugget of love he afforded me while always yearning for more.

  Just—

  This time my thoughts move beyond the longing. I remember how inadequate I felt. Bo is a wonderful, beautiful person—fair, sweet, and noble. He wouldn’t purposely make me feel that way, but the couple part of our relationship wasn’t always good.

  Then, I realize something else, and it’s bigger. As a matter of fact, it’s mind-altering.

  He isn’t enough for me either.

  Bo. Isn’t enough for Inga.

  Jesus.

  This is huge. I’m so struck by my epiphany that I gulp for air. My love for Bo would last a lifetime if he fed it. But he doesn’t and probably hasn’t since we were teenagers.

  “Are you all right?” Bo frowns from behind the veggies.

  “Yeah. I think I should go after Cam… alone.” I smile at him.

  Cameron is enough. I know that I’ve held back with him. It’s Bo’s and my history’s fault, of course. If it weren’t for Bo, I’d be in ten feet deep with this man already, because he’s exactly what makes sense for me. Crazy, adorable, entertaining, loving.

  The sex… even the sex. Bo’s right, I really never thought I’d find the kind of sex that made me lose myself so completely with anyone besides him. With Cameron, I’ve learned that it can happen. With the way Cam and I click in bed—

  I’m not tied to Bo in any way anymore.

  “You’re my friend,” I murmur to him.

  “I am your friend,” he replies, voice ballad-soft. Eyelashes sink, tenderness and almost brotherly love sifting from beneath them. I don’t say anything else. “Whenever you need me, Inga. Whatever you need.”

  “Yes. Yes… me too.”

  I heave a deep sigh and head to the bathroom. I’m going to fight for Cam and me. Even if I have to corner him and lock the door behind us, I’ll keep him until he’s heard me out. My hopes are high. There’s no way this can go wrong.

  Bo has a beer in his hand. He drinks slowly, a small grin curling the corner of a lip while he watches me add big silver hoops to my outfit. I want to look incredible when I go after my man. The only man in my life.

  I check my watch. Five p.m. already. Cam was scheduled to work tonight, but no one in their right mind would return to work in his state. Which means there’s a sixty-forty chance he’ll go.

  I’m wearing black tights, a little black dress, and black stilettos. My hair, I’ve put up in what Cam calls my “knockout, drop-dead ponytail.” Tons of makeup and my favorite bright red lipstick have me set.

  “Looking good.” Bo nods as I scurry to the front door. “You want me to tag along for safety in case he’s still irrational?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. He’d never hurt me. And honestly, he just might be more reasonable without you around.” I wink.

  “Probably,” Bo says. “Give me a call, whatever you need.”

  Mental note: buy new phone to replace the one I drowned.

  “Sure.”

  The only person at Smother is Robin. I consider popping by Arriane’s apartment, but then I don’t want to waste time. I’m impatient. I’m sorting out this crap between Cameron and me asap, and obviously for that to happen I need to locate him.

  The hobble-mobile is nowhere in sight by his dorm. I still go to his room and
bang on the door. No one answers, which annoys me, because he should be available in this moment and right here.

  I leave him a note—Find me. We need to talk.

  Of course I won’t just be waiting around. A vision of him jumping the Firam Peak flashes through my mind again, but with how sick he was when he left my apartment, I can’t actually imagine it.

  It’s damn inconvenient to not have a phone. I take the campus bus from his place and jump off at Smother. At the bar, I use the main line to buzz him. Thank God I remember numbers; I ping Dan, who doesn’t pick up either, but then Marek does.

  “Marek,” I shout. “Where’s Cam?”

  “Ingela? How about you stop messing with my bro’s head.”

  “Shut up, dick—I’m not messing with anyone. It’s a misunderstanding. Tell me where he is.” Suddenly, I feel like I’m chasing Cameron, while he’s trying to hide.

  “Hey, whatever.” I almost hear him shrug and lean back on a couch. “Dude’s with Dan on a plane. They’re heading to Red Boulder Canyon.”

  “No, they’re not.”

  “Oh, they totally are.”

  “Why?” I yell even though I know. The Cloud Bridge. He said he’d never do it, but— “Is he jumping the Cloud Bridge?”

  I miss him so much. He’s crazy. That’s four thousand freaking feet down. What if he jumps and doesn’t survive? The ground won’t be soft and sweet and inviting. It won’t cradle him the way I did after he slipped and fell in Firam Ravine.

  “Yup. At this rate, he’ll kick the bucket soon. Maybe not tomorrow, but—”

  “That’s when they’re jumping?”

  “Uh-huh, right after sunrise, so early no one notices.” He lowers his voice, thrilled. “Damn, they’ll have a blast.”

  “You know their hotel, Marek?”

  He guffaws. “They’re going big. Patrick, Cam’s brother, handed over some serious bonus points—they’ll be staying at Four Diamonds.”

  “All right,” I say. “Gotta go.” And I do. I really have to go.

  At home, I scour the apartment for hidden tips. I tend to stuff them into clever nooks and crannies so I don’t spend every penny at once. But now I need it all, because I’m off to stop Cameron from jumping. He is not—and I repeat—not—hopping off a bridge tomorrow.