The Summer of Broken Rules

by K.L. Walther

She’d loved it most of all. It’s been too long, my dad had said at lunch, but now I also couldn’t help asking myself, Has it been long enough? “I wish Claire were here,” I whispered to my mom.

Shes dead?@?!?!?!

Honey laughed. “I do so adore that boy.” I smiled. My grandmother’s crush on Michael was no secret.

Eli said, and after Pravika and I broke apart, he moved in for his hug. “Missed you.”

Because his grin was the type of imperfect crooked grin that made you want to grin back, 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.

Smiling with his blond hair mussed and falling across his forehead, and wearing a fraying sweatshirt like mine.

Michael called, and I turned to see him running toward me. Sweaty, shirtless, six-pack on full display. He shone so brightly that it took a beat for me to notice there was someone at his side.

Wit was standing there with only a red beach towel around his waist. I didn’t even blink, used to seeing people walking around in only towels that was how it was with outdoor showers.

He turned and blocked the doorway, that crooked grin on his face.

“Nice try, baby.” He motioned to his half-naked body. “Give me a sec?”

I smirked. “I know what it’s for, baby.” Wit blushed through his bruise. Good, I thought. Payback.

I wanted him to cram into the local dive, Dock Street Coffee Shop, and devour a messy breakfast sandwich with me.

“Nah, stay,” Wit said, his eyes fluttering open. His impossibly turquoise eyes. “I promise I won’t call you baby again.” I felt pinpricks on my neck. Had it really been that obvious? How much it had bothered me?

The sheets and pillows smelled like the sea and citrus. “Oranges,” I murmured. “My shampoo,” Wit murmured back. “I love oranges.” “So you love me.” I giggled. He hadn’t phrased it as a question, and for some reason—lack of sleep, probably—that made me giggle. Really giggle.

“You have a nice laugh,” Wit commented.

“Mm-hmm,” he replied and rolled over so that our toes touched. I curled mine, tingles going through them, but didn’t move away. “I like it.”

“Mmm, that’s…” Wit started but drifted away to dreamland before he could finish his thought, breathing now slow and steady. I suddenly wanted to reach over and feel his heartbeat. But instead I burrowed deeper into his pillow and closed my eyes.

“Let’s do something later,” I blurted before leaving his room. “I want to take you somewhere.” Wit raised an eyebrow. “You want to take me somewhere?” I raised an eyebrow back. “Any objections?” “No.” He shook his head.

“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.”

“Now we’re even, peaches!” Wit called after

Is this what it felt like? I didn’t want to wonder, but did. It was impossible not to now. Is this what it felt like when she was hit?

“Hey!” Wit called out, cutting her off. “Angel!” Luli stopped in her tracks. “Uh, excuse me?” “Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s only a joke. He’s harmless.” Then I shouted back to Wit, “Shut it, you devil!”

Wit was too smiley around me, and I found myself too smiley around him.

Wit bumped his elbow against mine, setting off this strange sensation—spirals under my skin.

She and I exchanged a smile. And I hoped that meant we were okay, even though I had an inkling that Claire would’ve said Luli’s smile was strained.

“Excellent,” Wit said. “And hey, if you’re still scared, you can always bring your knife for protection.”

Because maybe I wanted him to tell me. Maybe I wanted to hear what he thought of me.

Claire had gifted a copy to my parents one year for Christmas, its spine now cracked from so much use.

But then I checked my phone to see that it was 1:55. We only had a few minutes. “Okay, okay,” I said, grabbing a handful of his shirt. “Come on!”

We needed to focus. “Here,” I said, my hands going to Wit’s waist and forcing him over a few steps. My fingers tingled a little as I felt his warm skin through his shirt. “Stand here, and don’t move. You need to be a blockade.”

When I glanced back at Wit, he was standing in place like a wiry pillar. But now his head was cocked and one side of his mouth turned up at the corner. Sandy hair flopped over his forehead. “What?” I asked. “Nothing,” he said. “You’re just—” “Don’t say cute,” I cut in, neck heating. “Everyone says that.”

I reached to smooth the front of Wit’s T-shirt, feeling the flutter of his heartbeat. It soon fluttered faster, and mine did, too, when he casually slipped an arm around my neck, fingertips dancing along my collarbone.

The only response I got was a grumble. I laughed and absentmindedly touched his bruise with the back of my hand. It was still big and blue and, from the way Wit winced, extremely tender. His fingers stopped typing. “Ouch,” I said, as if I were the one injured. “My bad.” Literally.

Wit glanced up, turquoise eyes bright in the sunlight, their impossibly gold rings gleaming. “You’re very affectionate,” he said, gaze catching mine. “You know that?”

Wit leaned in, and as he whispered a familiar name in my ear, a light hand landed on my knee. He didn’t give it a reassuring squeeze like Ben used to; he just let it rest there…which was somehow even more calming. Warmth ignited under his palm, and I felt myself wanting to twine our fingers together. “You’re affectionate, too,” I murmured, and when Wit looked at me, I smiled. “Just an observation.”

When we made accidental eye contact, he blew me a kiss…and I swear I felt it hit my cheek, a light tickle followed by a rush of heat. Shit, I thought, worrying someone would notice.

he said after he noticed me staring at him.

My mom screamed after I handed her the phone, and even though I couldn’t hear what Michael was saying, I knew. Claire is dead, I thought, falling to my knees with tears already rushing down my face. My sister is dead. It had been a drunk driving accident. One cocktail had been enough for Claire during her Bourbon Street bar crawl, but apparently Sarah was three sheets to the

Sarah suffered several broken bones, a serious concussion, and was left with scars. But my sister was killed instantly. Instantly.

Now I felt my eyes stinging and Wit’s hand on my back, a few fingertips subtly and smoothly brushing through my hair. He intuitively knew I needed steadying. I wanted to reach for some part of him, too, even if it was only his T-shirt hem. But before I could, I heard my name. “Meredith!”

He was under the covers reading what looked like a travel guide to New Zealand, but it fell from his hands when the door’s hinges announced my arrival. “Jesus, lady!” he said. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Yes, indeed.” I humored him by pressing the pack against his bruise, snorting when he moaned melodramatically. “Remember,” I told him, “your portrait is being painted come the end of this week!”

I woke up to what sounded like someone breathing deeply and blushed when I realized it was Wit. I was in Wit’s room, in Wit’s bed, under his covers with him. He’s a mouth breather, I thought, since his mouth was wide open, like he’d fallen asleep halfway through saying something. Which he probably had—we’d talked so late into the night.

My eyes prickled, and a moment later, I felt a few of Wit’s fingers gently twine with mine. Tears spilled over when I squeezed them.

With me, with us. You would’ve met her.” I wiped away more tears, my eyes already swollen. “I wish you could’ve met her.”

Yes, I thought. I want to smile and laugh with him… My heart flipped, realizing that wasn’t all I wanted to do. I also wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss Wit.

time to get him, too, since he’s in total vacation mode.” Thinking of Wit’s laugh suddenly made me miss him.

“Holy crap, Meredith!” Pravika walked into the room. She’d been painting her nails in the kitchen. “How sexy you look.” She gestured to my dress, which admittedly was kind of sexy: a black halter with a back that dipped so low it was almost nonexistent. Sarah had sent it to me for my birthday in April. “You wearing it for anyone special?”

“Just myself,” I replied, a white lie. “Sarah

But suddenly the music and their voices turned to white noise, because a group of girls moved away from the bar to reveal a familiar figure standing by the far wall. Not awkwardly or anything—it looked like he was waiting for someone. With a hammering heart, I made my way over to him.