The Summer of Broken Rules

by K.L. Walther

“I wish Claire were here,” I whispered to my mom. “She is,” Mom whispered back, giving my shoulders a warm squeeze. Then she gestured to the sky. “She’s making the sun shine.” “For Sarah,” I said. “No.” She shook her head. “For everyone.”

“Okay, where’d you see him today?” “Walking into the bookstore.” He sighed. “Which means he’s a reader, and whoever I date has to be a reader.”

and his eyes…if you looked past the dark bruise, they were straight out of one of the fantasy novels that Claire and I loved so much. The eye color of an alluring stranger you weren’t sure you should trust but soon had to share a bed with for whatever reason on the quest you were on, then eventually fell so irrevocably in love with that you would die for each other. Basically, an eye color that wasn’t supposed to exist in real life: deep turquoise with gold rings around them.

“No baby,” I told Wit. “And no sweetheart.” “Sounds good, darling.” Wit winked. “Now, where’re we going today?” “It’s a surprise, dearest,” I said. “Just meet me at the Annex at 1:15.”

“You’re very affectionate,” he said, gaze catching mine. “You know that?”

And the way Wit said it—his voice. It was gentle, honest, intimate. How could it be that intimate? We’d just met.

An astrology lover, Claire believed that some people had written-in-the-stars fated connections,

“You’re affectionate, too,” I murmured, and when Wit looked at me, I smiled. “Just an observation.”

Wit smirked and kept tickling me until I squealed again, which prompted a bang on the wall from next door. “Dammit, Wit!” Michael’s best man shouted. “It’s not even seven!” Pause. “But, like, good for you, man.”

Of course, Sarah’s was not complete without quoting Taylor Swift, a line from the classic “Lover.”

He glanced at Wit, then gave me a look. “Enough with this pretending nonsense. If you want him, go get him. Don’t miss your shot.”

“I know you don’t like hearing this,” I heard him say, “and I know I promised not to tell you, but you are pretty, Killer. You’re pretty, beautiful, stunning, mesmerizing.” He paused. “But that’s not all you are. You’re everything Claire said and more. Clever, funny, caring, lively, strong, brave—all of it. You are all of it.” He kissed the top of my head. “And I do know how much you adore me,” he whispered. “I just wish it was as much as I adore you.”