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

you dressed warm enough to head out? He’s got a line.”
    My stomach clenches at the thought of Cameron. It’s the good sort of clenching. Happy butterflies and giggly thoughts. I was off yesterday, and he, the day before. Some lighthearted flirting sounds nice about now. “Sure, I’ll help.”
    Arria smiles. I might’ve shared a couple of details about my latest dorm visit. “That face you have on right now is cute,” she calls into my ear. “I think someone finally discovered a certain funny-boy.”
    “Bullshit!” I shout back. Arria shuts her eyes and covers her ears playfully as I leave for the patio.
    Outside, Cameron doesn’t have a line anymore. He does, however, have both of his extreme-sport buddies, Marek and Dan, occupying stools at the counter. The bruises around his eyes still have that nice war paint look that makes him appear even wilder than he is.
    Cameron shoots an arm out, probably imitating supreme velocity. The board or whatever he’s impersonating vibrates, then undulates in the air and crashes on the counter in front of him. Eyes wide with glee, he accentuates the obvious faceplant by forming a “bam!” with his mouth.
    One mountain man friend shrugs and nods, adding some short comment to Cam’s story. At Smother, people wear all sorts of clothes. Even so, Cameron is the only one of the three fitting in. The others appear to have rolled out of a tent and walked right in here, wool sweaters and hiking boots included.
    At the sight of me, Cameron stops talking and smacks a kiss in my direction. From the main room, Begging for Thread by Banks blasts out. It’s sexy and true, and I take some dance steps, slinking past a drunk pixie in a sniveling embrace with one of her girlfriends.
    With blond hair in disheveled chunks, sunny-boy rounds the edge of the bar and meets me halfway. “Hey, pretty-girl. You weren’t in my bed this morning.” His smirk is low, mischievous, and he finger-locks my hand, draws it up around his neck, and pulls me in tight.
    “True, because I’ve got better things to do than entertain bedridden weaklings.”
    We sway slow, an innocent imitation of something more. I close my eyes when his other arm presses me against him, his nose at my ear. He rules how my body moves in this position, forming me to him.
    Strong. Hard. The puff from his exhale sends warmth to my abdomen. I feel him all over. I surrender to the playful, seductive shifts of our bodies. My nerves—sure, they flutter, but it is good.
    I smile.
    “You’re my favorite fuck-buddy, though.” The murmured attempt at an insult causes me to giggle. Cam nudges me tight. The perv’s probably enjoying that my chest shakes with humor.
    There’s something akin to joy trickling into me. “Happy to rock your world, little boy,” I say. “Let’s do it again sometime. Don’t call me—I’ll call you.” I lean back and wink at him. He guffaws now, and I love it.
    This untamed, silly, straight-talking man. He’s so much like me and yet so different. He paints a grey world orange.
    “Cameron? Swedish girl. I need a beer,” a nameless regular shouts.
    “Give us a minute,” Cameron hollers back. He grabs my ass, thrusting us together. I suck in a hard breath.
    “Oh, kitty-cat,” he whispers, “sounds like you need a reminder of my big-boy status. How ’bout after work? Or hey, why wait? We could follow Arriane and Leon’s lead from their early days and live it up in the office.”
    I’m about to fire off a snide remark when my eyes draw to the entrance, and there.
    There—
    In a silhouette against green and red spotlights, Bo waits for me, hands in pockets. Shoulders sharp-edged, elbows bent, he watches us.
    He’s gorgeous, so familiar. So—
    Everything I’ve ever needed.
    It’s dark and yet I see them, his winter eyes. Grey, not shiny, glittery, breathtaking but full of everything we are. All of our history, our love. All of the pain and the heartbreak. They remember and know. They apologize,