Adrenalin

Chapter 24 - Hayden

When I roll over the next morning, the first thing I notice are the empty sheets next to me. A quick glance around the small room tells me Sydney isn't here but her bag is still on floor. This means she hasn't taken off, thank God. I slump back into bed and let out a relieved breath. Still, I don't know where she is.

After pulling on jeans and a jumper, I climb up the ladder to the deck of the boat. My eyes find her immediately. Twenty meters to my right, sitting on the edge of the peer facing the opposite way to me. She keeps her head trained forward. I can tell she's trying to keep herself from looking at the sea below her feet. I still haven't asked her where that fear comes from. I figured it was probably personal but we've made a shitload of progress. Maybe she'll tell me now.

There are a few early risers arriving to the Sailing Club. Judging by the newly risen sun sparkling on the horizon, I'd say it's around seven am. Which is surprising considering Sydney has mentioned many times that she is not a morning person. I take a step towards the edge of the boat, planning on joining her, when I watch a guy around our age stop next to her. He must've said something to her because now she is standing up, giving him a very brief one-armed hug. Judging by the size of Sydney compared to him, he's tall but I've probably got a few centimetres on him. He's got a cap on top of his dark hair and his hands tucked in the pockets of his black ripped jeans. Basically he looks like a male version of Sydney.

She looks slightly uncomfortable. Her head turns in my direction and our eyes lock. Her look pleads with me to come save her, so I do. I climb off the boat and walk down the pier, brushing my shoulder against the dude's as I turn and stop next to her. I slide my arm around her waist purposefully, pulling her closer.

"Hey, baby." I say. The dude and I size each other up. Everything about him is dark; his clothes, his hair, his eyes. He's like the walking contrast of me.

"Hi," she replies in a small voice. "This – this is Derrick. We were friends when I was younger."

Derrick grins. "Naw. I'd say we were a bit more than that, sweetheart."

I clench my jaw. Everything about this guy makes me tense, right down to the way he thinks he can call my girl "sweetheart". Sydney's body stiffens and she glances up at me briefly to observe my reaction. I keep my expression passive, staring this Derrick guy straight in the eye.

"Funny," I say, "I've never heard of her mention you before."

Derrick smiles. Not a friendly smile, a cold and calculating smile. I do not get good vibes from this guy. I don't like the way he makes Sydney feel so small – I can tell by the way she's holding herself. Not her usual bravado and confidence, but as if she's trying to shrink back into herself.

"Is this your new toy?" He asks, jerking his head towards me. Her new what? I unhook my arm from Sydney's waist and stand taller, squaring my shoulders. I'd love nothing more than to sock this dickhead right in the jaw.

"He's not a toy." Sydney mumbles in retaliation. "We're leaving, I'll see you later." She grabs my hand and squeezes it hard, yanking me along with her. I maintain eye contact with Derrick as we walk past.

"Bye, gorgeous." Derrick calls.

I stop, fully intending to deck the bastard but Sydney pulls harder. "Please, Hayden." She whispers. I let out a long breath and continue walking.

We grab breakfast at the café outside the Sailing Club. Eggs on toast for me and pancakes for her. Not once in the last ten minutes has she looked at me or spoken a word except for when she ordered. Derrick had left after we walked away. I watched him walk back to his car from our table near the window.

I return my attention back to the girl in front of me. She seems so small. "So," I start slowly, sipping from my caramel milkshake. "More than friends, huh?"

Her eyes shoot up to mine, ice cold. "What, you think I've been single my whole life?"

Quite the opposite. The first time I met her I was sure there was no way an angel as perfect as her could be single. Not that it mattered to me how many guys she has or hasn't been with.

"No," I answer calmly, "but you never led me to believe any different."

"Would you like to sit here and talk about exes, then? I'm sure you're quite advanced in that department." She snaps almost defensively, leaning back and crossing her arms.

I'm sick of this shit. It was a simple question.

I lean forward, placing my elbows on the table. "You know what? Yeah. I do. Tell me about him and any other men you haven't mentioned."

Sydney glares at me for a good 15 seconds but I refuse to back down.

Eventually she sighs, dropping her eyes to her plate again. "Derrick's the only one. We were best friends since we were 7. He was there through everything, the only real friend I've ever had. We started going out when we were 14 and at the time I thought I was completely in love. I did care about him a lot but I didn't know what love was until now."

She chips away at her nail polish. My stomach twists at how fondly she talks about him until I realise she was talking about me at the end. The lion in my chest stops it's growling, replaced by a soft purr.

"What happened?" I ask.

She shrugs. "He left. Losing a best friend is like losing air. It's painful and slow and there's nothing you can do about it. You just watch the world disappear... I've never been close with anyone since."

She'd never opened up this much before, never been so raw and honest. And she didn't stop there so I let her continue.

"I remember how I met him in the winter and how his brown eyes and warm hands warmed my frozen hands and my dull heart. Never did I expect those warm hands to make my own hands ball into fists and for those dark beautiful brown eyes to be turned black, making my heart go cold, making my heart disappear."

She looks at me and her eyes tell me she's been in this pain for too long to let it make her cry anymore.

"Can I ask you another question?" I ask.

She nods. "Then it's your turn to tell me about your exes."

I nod too and continue to ask my question. "Where does the fear of the water come from?"

She laughs. Not a humorous laugh, a cold laugh. A laugh that tells me whatever she is going to say next isn't going to be funny.

"Long story short, my dad tried to drown me when I was younger. Mum was working late again. When they were together, they hired a nanny to look after me and Bentley. Riley wasn't born until a year after that. But dad was home and he dismissed the nanny early." She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table too. Her eyes are glassy, void of any emotion. "I don't know if it was drugs or alcohol – probably both – but the paramedics said mum got home just in time. It doesn't take much to drown a small child."

Fucking hell.

My brain takes a while to process. An act like that is impossible to comprehend. How can you do that to a child? What could she have done that was so bad that her dad was so angered? But then again, people do fucked up shit when under the influence.

"I – I don't..." I stammer. I don't know what to say. Fuck you're hopeless, Hayden.

"Don't say anything. It's fine." She replies, shaking her head.

"It's not." I sigh.

She shrugs, extending her right arm to take hold of my left hand. She places it palm-up on the table, tracing the creases of my skin.

Maybe she built that wall in front of her heart in order to save herself from the pain she's become familiar with. Maybe she's protecting her heart from anyone not willing to climb that wall and claim the love which refuses to give away easily.