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

my explanation and wink.
    “Whatever, dude. Which reminds me—your car’s chock-full of shit. It’s a total extreme-sport nightmare. If the police checked it out, they’d probably think you were prepping to kill someone.”
    That makes me laugh. “Why? I don’t pack.”
    “Pack what? Looks all packed to me.”
    I chuckle. “Just saying that I don’t carry weapons.”
    “Bah, same thing with all the ropes and contraptions, towels and safety clothes and shit you’ve got in there. Jesus, Cameron. You’re obsessed. Can’t be healthy.”
    I consider “obsessed” while I dry off. She studies me as I pull my wet clothes off and dress in dry ones. Ingela’s the one who’s obsessed—with her ex. My little addiction to fun times is completely different. It’s entertainment. I don’t go all depressed on anyone if I don’t get my rush. Well, not really. Maybe a bit grumpy.
    I inhale deeply. I’m so fucking refreshed right now. “That was epic,” I tell her, stand up, and stretch. I take her hand and walk us to my little old Corolla. Once we’ve picked my rope up from the bridge—she should’ve just waited for me up there instead of running down to the riverbed with the towels—we head back to her place.
    As we park, she sinks into herself. Her pretty mouth angles downward. That damn guy. I don’t understand the crap the two of them go through.
    “Not feeling so hot again?” I wish I’d kept my big fucking yapper shut because she instantly bursts out crying. Goddammit. “Inga, I’m sorry.”
    Her body keels into me, so I turn and fold her in. She wants it. Snuggles her face deep into my neck and makes it wet. “Your ex is a douche,” I murmur to her. “He has no idea what he’s losing out on.”
    Her reaction is a snicker-sob against me. “Uh-huh, after all these years, I think he knows, Cam. What he doesn’t want.”
    “He’s a fool, then, because you’re the whole package. You rock.”
    She puffs in disagreement, and I have this sudden urge to protect her. I don’t think about it much—I just encapsulate her head with my hand and draw her closer. As small as the mid console is between us, it’s still a bit uncomfortable.
    “I don’t want to go to my apartment,” she mutters.
    “You want to go to my dorm?” I ask. “I’ve got a twenty-incher who needs to come out and play. He’ll be real nice with you. Show you a good time?” I joke.
    “You prick,” she giggles even though she’s still sad.
    “My prick? Yep, you got it, babe.” For some reason, it’s natural to stroke the tears off her face when she looks up at me. I kiss her mouth. It’s wet and swollen, maybe from all the crying earlier. Damn, I shouldn’t have done that. She’s heartbroken over another guy, and I’m kissing her? I’m about to get my ass kicked by a scrawny little girl.
    Instead, she stares at me after I let go. Remains in our awkward hold across the mid console. Then, she leans her cheek on my upper arm and sighs. I kiss her again, and she responds. Soft, sweet. And fucking so… nice.
    My dick likes this.
    “Twenty-incher.” She smirks. “One of these days, I’m taking out a, um, measurement thingy, and checking it for you.”
    “I’ve heard it’s pretty accurate to measure with your tongue. I can show you—it’s a tad complicated, but we’ll manage.”
    Now, she’s grinning. “Smarm-head.”
    “What the hell does that mean? Betcha that’s not a Swedish word either.” I laugh. “Is little Inga resorting to home-made insults?”
    “Ja. It’s, like, because you’re so smarmy. And totally full of yourself. Full of your cock. You might as well wave it at people.”
    “I’ll make you full of it.” I can go on and on, and it’s definitely working. Her hot little body’s shaking with laughter now.
    “Hold on,” I say, pulling back and acting like I’m fumbling with my zipper. Really, I’ve got a boner to rival that steel railing I jumped from already. “He wants to wave at