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.”

You are affectionate without even thinking about it. You let me talk for hours, and you listen for hours. You make me feel absolutely golden.

“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.”

Under the table, Wit’s hand went to my knee. “What’s wrong?” he murmured. I didn’t take my eyes off Sarah and Michael. “How do you know something’s wrong?” “Just do.”

“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.”

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