The Summer of Broken Rules

by K.L. Walther

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.

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.

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.

Let’s pretend that time doesn’t exist. Let’s pretend that this week isn’t ending. Let’s pretend that we will always be us—happy, sunburnt, and tangled up together. It would hurt. It would really hurt, but it would be wonderful, too—one last perfect day with him.

“I’ve saved these messages for five years,” he said. “They say you can’t convey tone in texting, but back then…” He shook his head. “Back then, I could tell—I could tell through all his hungover typos that something had shifted, something had happened.”

“She would say we’re a hot mess,” I told him. “We’re more than hot,” Wit said. “We’re stunning.”

“Enough with this pretending

nonsense. If you want him, go get him. Don’t miss your shot.”

“I adore you,” I whispered. “Please tell me you know how much I adore you.”

“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.”

“I am your biggest fan,” he said. “I have always been your biggest fan. I will stand by you no matter what.”

“You’re very affectionate,” he murmured after I stretched to give his cheek three quick kisses. I didn’t know why, but it was always three times. Once just wasn’t enough.

I love you, Stephen. I adore you, but I love you even more.