The muscles in my forearms felt like they were about to shear off. I wedged my fingers into the crack, and eased my weight onto my other foot so I could turn into the cliff face and hang for a second. My foot slipped, shunting my weight too quickly onto my little finger. It was wedged tightly and didn’t budge, until I heard the snap. I felt the sharp pain shoot through my finger and up my wrist. My body fell away from the cliff face, swinging out towards the river; a potential disaster prevented by Mikey’s quick reflexes. I kicked my feet out to keep from slamming into the rock as momentum pulled me back.
“Ah! Fuck!” Cradling my injured arm, I cursed with every word I knew, and kicked at the wall again. An icy chill wrapped around my torso. It pulled at me, slowing my movements even further, and stopped the word storm raging from my mouth. The sensation was bizarre, like a frozen hug from a safe place. It disappeared when my body stopped swinging, replaced by a fresh breakout of sweat. The painful throb in my hand drew me back to reality.
Fuck. I’ve broken something. My eyes and mouth slammed shut to lock in a sissy scream. I kept them shut, refusing to look at the carnage. I wiggled my thumb and first two fingers to make sure they were okay. It hurt like a motherfucker, but only because my broken pinkie moved too.
“I heard that, dude.”
“Mikey? You’re not helping, dude.”
“You didn’t surrender to it. You fought it. You were reckless up there. Always ends in pain, dude. I’m gonna lower you down, okay?”
I grunted in response, though the rope had already started to slide through his belay device, bringing me back to Earth. Adjusting my weight back on to my feet as I felt them touch the ground, I continued to cradle my wrist in the palm of my uninjured hand, while looking back up at my nemesis. Mikey took care of the harness for me. The clinking of the carabiners joined the noise from the revellers in the park.
“Duuuuude.” My eyes dropped to Mikey, annoyance festering in my throat, ready to spew out at him. Until I saw his face. He looked like he was ready to do some spewing of his own. The spotlight turned him even more pasty, as he eyeballed my mangled hand. I still refused to look.
“Thanks, mate. I’d help you pack up, but …” I lifted my hand a little. His eyes followed the movement, as his tongue and throat pulled up in an attempted heave.
“Look away, Mikey.” I slapped him on the shoulder with my good hand, bracing the bad one against my stomach as I bent to pick up my pack. I had a steep climb up the stairs back to my car, and a night in the Accident and Emergency ahead of me. Coming down from the adrenaline rush was going to be a bitch.
The heat shimmered off the pavement as I walked through campus. My brand-new cast was itchy as hell, and the humidity only made it worse. Humidity made everything worse. Thank fuck for air-conditioning. And painkillers.
It was O Week at the university. Time to get oriented. Classes didn’t start until next week, but I figured I’d check out where they would be. Near the Student Centre, most of the clubs had set up tables, enticing students to join their ranks. After standing in line for friggin’ ever to get my ID, I headed across the lawn to the library. I pulled my hat down as some clown played his guitar, giving a free karaoke show. Judging by the looks on everyone’s faces he needed to put that thing away and rethink his hobby.
The library was buzzing with the enthusiasm of new students, signalling the beginning of a new year. I was sure it wouldn’t feel the same in six months’ time. The stairs acted as an aorta through the middle of the building, crammed with human-shaped blood vessels pumping life into the uninspired concrete box. I didn’t realise so many people would be in the library during O week. But I guess everyone had the same bright idea as me.
I reached the sixth floor where I’d find the quiet area and the design books. Making my way to the shelves at the end, a waft of something delicious hit me. Between two shelves I found my Amazonian Gazelle. Her profile was angled away from me, but I could see her holding a notebook in one hand, running her finger along the books with the other. Stretching up on tippy toes, she pulled a book off the top shelf. Holy shit. Stretched out, long and lean, her breasts pushed against her shirt where an ID tag hung from a lanyard. She must work here. I wished she’d turn so I could see her name. Her knee length skirt moulded to every line of her bum and legs. I gulped loudly. My heart tried to beat out of my chest. I had to clench my fists to stop myself from grabbing her and dragging her somewhere private.
Sick bastard. No control.
I itched for a hit of adrenaline. She did things to me. It was an unstoppable force coming from the same place as my adrenaline beast. The scant doses received so far were nowhere near enough to whet my appetite. Loss of control was probable. I was getting high from holding myself back, and the anticipation of what could happen if she decided to give her attention to me. I wouldn’t hurt her, but I think I’d scare her. That’s what held me together. I didn’t want her to run from me anymore.
She wasn’t at South Bank this morning.
