The Summer of Broken Rules

by K.L. Walther

“So I suppose this afternoon wasn’t enough,” the guy continued. “You gotta maul my face even more?”

A little casual flirting with Wit was fine, but a lot was not. He was my new partner in crime, my new pal, my new friend. I wanted him to stay my friend.

“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.

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

Claire had buckled her seat belt, turned to check that Sarah had buckled hers, and then had barely put the key into the ignition before a massive SUV came hurtling out of nowhere and smashed into them. The driver’s BAC was three times the legal limit. Sarah suffered several broken bones, a serious concussion, and was left with scars. But my sister was killed instantly. Instantly.

“Dammit, Wit!” Michael’s best man shouted. “It’s not even seven!” Pause. “But, like, good for you, man.”