The Summer of Broken Rules

by K.L. Walther

I wanted to hear my mom laugh again.

“For bird-watching,” he always said, but I knew my grandfather liked keeping an eye on Farm activity. The Big House’s porch was the perfect spy base. It wrapped around the entire house, so you could see everything. “Anything good happening?” I asked after hitting my kickstand.

I groaned and buried my face in Honey’s shoulder, and a second later, I felt her kiss the top of my head. “We’re so happy to see you, Meredith,” she whispered. “So, so happy.”

this really portrays how it goes from lighthearted to a deeper meaning as honey references claires death (at least i think she died) and how lucky the are to have meredith healthy

“Meredith!” Pravika called. “Meredith!” Okay, here we go, I thought, seeing the others’ heads turn and their eyes find me. A shiver of shyness ran up my spine. I’d been terrible about keeping in touch, barely reaching out or responding to their texts, calls, Snapchats, or FaceTime requests. Pravika pulled me into her arms first, squeezing me so tightly that I worried my lungs would collapse. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” The corners of my eyes instantly stung. “I love you, too,” I whispered back.

love love love this

I liked to think she would’ve worked at Edgartown Books or Bunch of Grapes Bookstore in Vineyard Haven. Claire never went anywhere without a book, and she’d taught me to do the same.

“How am I supposed to know?” I said. “I haven’t met him yet.” “Stephen!” Claire had giggled. “His name will be Stephen!” “Stephen?” “Stephen.”

foreshadowing i believe since ive seen something where she calls her lover stephen

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.

Smiling with his blond hair mussed and falling across his forehead, and wearing a fraying sweatshirt like mine. My stomach did that strange swooping thing.

It was dawning on me that Wit was approaching Assassin exactly like Claire—offensively and astutely, already planning and plotting. He wouldn’t be searching The Farm for a good hiding spot anytime soon. “So instead of you sniffing around and asking everyone and their mother who Michael’s uncle’s daughter is,” he continued, “I’d be your go-to source.” “And instead of solving the mystery of Honey’s brother’s third wife,” I said, liking this more and more, “I’d lay out her entire schedule for you, tell you her favorite Pilates studio in Vineyard Haven.”

“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? “That’s what Shithead called you,” Wit said. “Isn’t it?” “Shithead’s name is Ben,” I replied, sighing. “And it was more babe than baby.” “Ben? I like Shithead better.” “Me too, actually.” I laughed and stretched out next to him. Not close enough for us to touch but more than comfortable enough to fall asleep. 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.

“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.”

Made me cackle.

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

“But don’t you think alternating might be cool?” someone asked, a confident voice I now immediately recognized. Wit.

Everyone had chosen to play Assassin except Eli. “I can’t, guys,” he said as we groaned. “You know this game spikes my anxiety. Even the ‘Will you play?’ question made me nauseous!”

hes real for that tbh

“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 broke into his crooked grin. Luli sighed. “So that’s him, huh?”

Wit bumped his elbow against mine, setting off this strange sensation—spirals under my skin. “Courtesy of this one, yes.”

why did this GET ME.

Hidden in my jewelry box, because Ben thought it was weird that I had one.

jerk

Okay, that’s it, I thought, untangling my fingers and stepping closer to Wit so that our arms were pressed up against each other. Enough! 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. “Oh,” Sage said as I held my breath. “Oh no—sorry, I didn’t mean anything.” She laughed and shook her head, then held up the last item to scan: a pie. “Strawberry rhubarb is my boyfriend’s favorite.” Her face lit up like the sun. “He says it’s totally epic.”

THIS. SCENE. (plus its goals how the cashiers face lit up when she mentioned her bf <3

“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.

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.”

He stood there for a second, as if to take a deep breath, then dropped to his knees. 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.

“How much?” I heard Uncle Brad mutter to my dad. “Ten flat?” “Ten and a half,” my dad muttered back. “Twenty bucks?” “Deal.” They fist-bumped.

help

“I’ll save you a slice of strawberry rhubarb,” he told me when I’d looked at him too long, and I grinned in response, knowing that meant Good luck.

she knows him so well already (cue the proud parent sniffle)

“Brad’s right, the kid’s dangerous.” “He doesn’t like being called kid,” I murmured. “What was that, Mer?” “Nothing,” I said, then paused.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. ok im done.

She probably thought I was going to the circle of tents to be with my friends. Eli’s Nylon Condo Complex. Which wasn’t entirely off base. I was going to see a friend. Just not one sleeping in a tent.

me. What? I stopped gawking long enough to blink and see who was responsible for such blasphemy. Just delightful, @sowitty17 had written. Thank you, my lobster, for the recommendation! #HurrayShesADupré. I immediately DMed him: WHERE DID YOU FIND THAT PICTURE?!?! And then: You watch Friends? Because “my lobster,” Wit’s term of endearment for the day, was not only a pun about his meal but also a direct reference to the old sitcom. Phoebe had a theory that when lobsters linked claws, it meant they’d fallen in love and would mate for life. “She’s your lobster,” she always said to Ross about Rachel. It was iconic. Wit! Half of me wanted to kick him in the face again while the other half wanted to smile and laugh with him.

No way, I thought, thumb hovering over my screen. There’s no way he could have… But he had. When I swiped, I was treated to nineteen-year-old Wit Witry full-on imitating little Meredith Fox. Just like me, he had a blue napkin tucked into his shirt collar with a heavy mortar of guacamole on the table in front of him, and also like me, he’d taken a glob and smeared it across his smiling face. My stomach swooped.

Wit wasn’t looking at the camera, his sandy hair whipped up by the wind and his head turned to study whatever had caught his eye. He’s always on a swivel, I’d thought, remembering our bike ride to Morning Glory, how he’d observed everything. He wants to appreciate it all. I liked that.

“Yes,” Wit said. “He’s noticed me, I’ve noticed him, we’ve noticed each other.” He paused, then added in a softer voice, “And now I want an adventure.”

AGHHHSHWAUZUXHD

So I took the chance to grab my gun, and when he looked back at me, I raised it. “It’s not personal, Mr. Witry,” I said, “but it must be done.” Oscar nodded. His stepchildren shouted for him to make a run for the house, but Wit’s dad closed his eyes and then faked a fall once I’d squirted him square in the chest. I stifled a snort; it reminded me of something his son would do.

nice way to meet the future in-laws i guess

There’s this thing later, I’d DMed him before leaving Eli’s tent this afternoon. At the Varsity Room. Thing? He’d written back. Does that translate to party? Yes, I typed. It starts at 9. No offense, he said, but I might pass. After spending all day with these people, I’m a little sick of them. No, no, this is different, I replied. I promise. A few minutes and then: Pinkie swear? I smiled to myself. Pinkie swear.

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.

duh, hes waiting foo u bbg

I waited for him to tell me I looked pretty. He didn’t, and as strange as it sounds, that made me happy.

“Nowhere,” he answered. “This isn’t wine.” He offered me his glass to taste. “It’s cranberry juice. I found it in the fridge.” He shrugged. “Beer isn’t really my thing.” “Huh.” All the guys I knew liked beer.

HE IS A CERTIFIED KING

Five seconds later, Pravika burst through the door. “Ian!” she exclaimed. “Get in here! Sarah and Michael are trying to break in through the back door!” “Okay, run,” I said to Wit, tugging him down the deck steps while Ian stormed back inside to investigate. “Run!”

pravika is honestly an amazing person

Wit half grinned and began gently tracing my face with his fingertips. My eyebrows, my eyelids, my nose, my cheekbones—he

“I have to go.” “No, you don’t,” he replied. “Stay here with Handsome.”

He smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “It’s my girlfriend’s favorite.”

lowkey why do i feel like the cashier is his gf…

The bookstore. Whenever Claire and I had biked into town, we’d locked our bikes at the nearby rack and gone to Edgartown Books first. It was a beautiful white house with black shutters and a green-and-white awning shading its peaceful porch. Right now, two little girls sat on the porch chairs with their grandparents, reading the books they’d bought. I watched them for a moment, grateful when Wit squeezed my hand.

“Turkey with pepper jack on sourdough, please,” he said. “Lettuce, tomato, onion.” A pause. “Oh yeah, and honey mustard.” He rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, you know me better than I know myself.” He smiled. “I love you, too.”

why am i crying?

“Fifty-three eighty-eight,” the bookseller said, and I caught him glancing at his watch. Wishing for lunchtime with his love. It’d be tough to break the news to Eli later; thank goodness he was partial to the sailing instructor.

But it had taken him less than ten seconds. It had taken him less than ten seconds to connect the dots, while Ben had never connected them.

Wit walked me back to the Annex, his arm curved around my waist and carrying my Edgartown treasure trove (books, candy, and a new Black Dog T-shirt) like a gentleman.

He smiled. “Nothing.” I laughed. “I love climbing trees.” “Yes,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling. “Just like you love climbing me.” My breath caught. Just like you love climbing me. “You’re wicked,” I said. “And you go wild for it,” he said back as I jumped to the ground.

How’d you get Michael’s cousin? I’ll tell you when I have my arms around you, he said. My breath caught. He was so casual, so easy with his affection. There was no stupid winky face emoji or a hundred obnoxious hearts following his words—he wasn’t teasing or even flirting. He was just being open and genuine. Open and genuine were part of Wit’s brand.

“I knew you’d come.” That was all I needed to slide through his door. In the starlight that shone through the screen, I saw the fan on his dresser and Wit in bed, shirtless under only the sheet. The blankets had been kicked to the floor. Too hot. I didn’t join him just yet. “How did you know?” “Because when we said goodbye, at first you told me you’d see me tomorrow.” He yawned and propped himself up on an elbow. “But then the next time you said it, it was later.” “Oh, I didn’t notice,” I lied. He didn’t believe me. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” My eyes welled up. A beat passed. “C’mere,” Wit said.

We were close enough to read the menu now, and the two boys behind us were bantering about the origins of the Charlie donut. It was so hilariously absurd that soon Wit’s body was shaking against mine with silent laughter. “Are these guys for real?” he whispered. “Apparently,” I whispered back, then glanced over my shoulder to see a grinning boy with bright blue eyes and red-gold hair. “Did you want to weigh in?” he asked as I noticed Edgartown Yacht Club’s insignia embroidered on his windbreaker. “Tell my boyfriend who really invented the Charlie?” He was holding hands with none other than the cute bookseller. “Nope, I’m good,” I said, also thinking, Poor Eli.

AHHHHH MY BADDIES