Free Adrenaline: An Ode to Love and Heartbreak by Sunniva Dee, Clarise Tan

him to make it over.
    First, he needs to greet half the football team, though, which has congregated close to the patio door, and a BB girl with the night off. She’s here looking for Cam. Guess she’s in luck—for a moment.
    But then, he’s behind the bar. His first move is to hike my skirt up several inches in the back and pinch my butt cheek.
    “Ouch, wuss!” I shout out, laughing.
    “Wuss means coward, remember? I’m no wuss. ‘Dick’ works. Or ‘prick.’” He slides around to the front, still under my skirt, and massages my upper thighs.
    “Note to self,” I yell over the music. “Don’t ever wear skirts at work. Smother’s full of grabby little boys.”
    He snorts through a snicker, and I turn in his arms, twisting his hands off my body.
    “Let’s see the damage,” I say, touching small cuts and bruises on his face. He’s so sexy. I was right; the violet rings around his eyes make him look like some sort of warrior. I pull him under the light by the cash register, and his irises shine greener than ever now, at the center of those bruises. Clearly, he’d do well with violet shirts too. Yeah. I should find a way of making him wear violet.
    “How did you manage not to break your nose?” I ask, because it’s obviously whole. He’s got a medium-sized, well-defined nose. Actually, everything about Cameron is perfectly formed. Not all of him is medium-sized, though. Warmth spreads in my lower region, reminding me of certain non-medium-sized parts.
    “Don’t know. I lucked out, I guess. But it’ll happen soon enough.” He touches my cheek, and it’s sweet, without his customary sexual innuendo.
    He sighs. “I just wanted to see you before I went home. You okay?” He’s alluding to our phone conversation yesterday, where I all but fessed up to feeling shitty. A closer look at him, now that I’m done ogling pretty eyes and thinking about his penis, reveals how exhausted he is.
    “Ja. You’ve got a headache, huh?” I nod at him for confirmation.
    “Yup. It’s a damn blizzard in there,” he chuckles, giving his melon a swift rap with his knuckles.
    “Because you’re an ass and go on dangerous trips,” I explain.
    He arches a brow. “So not a wuss, then?”
    “Pfff, no. I know what that means: coward.”
    Cam’s shoulders shake as he laughs. “Right on, Inga. You’re getting there.”

    It’s the morning after Cameron returned from Whistler. My Monday class got canceled, which would usually send me to Arria’s place for tea or decaf. Today, though, I’m heading to Cam’s dorm. I’ve never been the motherly type and have no instinct driving me to check up on sick people, but Cameron’s one of my best friends in Deepsilver so it’s different with him. I guess I should’ve thought about bringing remedies or what have you, but I forget until I’m at his door.
    Dan opens. His brows arch under his short, stiff bangs before he mutters over his shoulder, “Cam. Your loud date is here.”
    I shove past him, not in the mood to be embarrassed. I got that part taken care of on the phone while they were in Whistler. Cameron is still in bed, and it’s eleven a.m. Honestly, I’m not sure of his morning schedule. Maybe this is him when he doesn’t have classes.
    “You babysitting for a while?” Dan scratches his head.
    “I guess?” I say. My answer must be good enough for him because he grabs a jacket and mumbles something I don’t catch on his way out.
    The two of them either left the blinds up last night, or Dan opened them this morning, leaving a stream of sunshine to flood Cam and his wounds. Judging by Dan’s unmade bed, he’s not one to focus on chores first thing; my guess is no blinds all night.
    Cameron’s face is all puffy. “You look like crud,” I tell him. Sit on the edge of his mattress and tap his nose with a finger. “Like. Crud.” My digit emphasizes each repeated word.
    He laughs a hoarse, sexy, unused voice sort of laugh and says, “‘Crud’ isn’t you,