Adrenaline: An Ode to Love and Heartbreak by Sunniva Dee, Clarise Tan Read Free Book Online Page B

both over until I was completely covered by him. Turns out, Cameron is impossible to move without his conscious help. I ended up laughing out loud from underneath the mass of hard muscle and weighty limbs until he woke up, puzzled.
    I drop Leon’s car off at Smother and take the Silver Line to campus. Suffer through a never-ending lecture of bullshit. As in philosophy. I don’t get this crap at all. It’s an elective. Arriane tricked me into signing up for it saying it’d be an easy A. As it stands, I’ll work harder for a B in philosophy than I will for an A in any of my regular classes.
    Back at Smother, I still worry about Cameron. I visit with Arriane before work, and she offers me decaf in her kitchen. “Why don’t you drink regular coffee? Leon isn’t twisting your arm now that you’re done being pregnant, right?”
    She rolls her eyes. “He never forced me to do anything—it just wasn’t good for Lyric while he was growing inside me.”
    I snort. “Sure, tell yourself that. I remember Leon’s face vividly. He got all surly whenever you as much as eyed a Starbucks.”
    She laughs and pets Lyric’s head before he vrooms off on his plastic tractor. It’s his favorite means of transportation within the apartment. The concentration he exudes while maneuvering the thing rivals that of a grownup. Men will be men, even at one and a half.
    Arria lifts her gaze to me and quirks her lip. “What’s wrong, Inga? You don’t look so good.”
    “Geez, thanks. At least, I’m wearing my bar pants already. What more can you ask for?” I stretch the fabric out from a knee, showing her.
    The reaction I get is not what I expect, though. Arria’s violet eyes widen with shock before she frowns. “Okay. This is not good. What. Is. Going. On.”
    “You’re not happy I’m properly dressed?”
    “Yeah. Inga. Cut the crap. Leon told me you started crying at work last night, and now you’re being strange. You’re not your funny self—you don’t look happy. What’s up?” She’s standing, hands on hips like a schoolteacher or something. Jesus. “Are you sad over Cameron leaving?”
    “No. Maybe. Fuck, Arria—he’s not going to survive that trip,” I say, and then I start crying.

    “This yours?” Dan hands me a used washcloth from the en suite of the dingy motel room we just checked into. All three of us sleep in the same room to save money. Marek is out scavenging for roasted chicken and bread while Dan and I take the first turns in the shower.
    “Don’t need the cloth out here, Dan. Who else’s would it be?”
    “Dunno. Wasn’t sure if they’d cleaned the bathroom since the last guest, you know what I mean? Don’t recall you being a washcloth guy.”
    “I was grimy, dude. Hope the rag didn’t offend you,” I joke. I’m tired as shit. It’s been a long trip, layover included, but my mood lifts at the thought of tomorrow and the layers and layers of virgin snow waiting for our boards to ravish them. Hell yeah.
    I’m the couch-surfer this time. I flip it open and find solid springs beneath a thin-ass mattress. Doesn’t matter. I’ll pass out log-style anyway. My thoughts go to Ingela. It’s weird how I feel like I left her behind. I’ve never seen her this needy before, and this… jinxy.
    I snort to myself. Jesus F-ing Christ. I need to ask her about it if I survive this trip. Are Swedes not superstitious at all, or is this Inga being Inga?
    Marek locks himself in, bringing a waft of fresh bread and warm chicken with him. He’s got a few bottles of Coke too. We’re not drinking, pre-excursion. If all’s well, we’ll celebrate when we come down to civilization tomorrow night.
    “Whatcha grinning at?” he asks me as he unloads three chickens and a couple of baguettes from the plastic bags. I screw open a soda bottle and bottom it up.
    “Eh, you don’t want to know.”
    I call Ingela before I crash. My watch shows three in the morning in Deepsilver—she’s closing with Christian