The Summer of Broken Rules

by K.L. Walther

“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.”

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

“Sarah talked about her for months before her visit,” Wit said quietly. He chuckled. “It was like Taylor Swift was coming to town.”

I half smiled. Sarah was the most devoted of Swifties.

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

“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.”

“Hey, Stephen!” I called, and two seconds later, I was right next to him. I grinned, took his hand, and said, “Tell me more about New Zealand.”

“Because I adore you, Stephen,” I murmured. “I adore you, but I love you even more.”