The Summer of Broken Rules

“You’re still my favorite girl to have on my arm.”

“Please, I need you. You know how much I need you. After everything…”

Okay,” Wit said after a minute. “I won’t say you’re pretty.” He sighed. “But am I still allowed to think it? Because if not”—his eyes flicked up and down my body, all wet and splattered with mud—“that’d be a huge ask.”
“A huge ask?”
“An impossible ask.”
I laughed. “Even when I look like this?”
“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning over to mess up my hair. “Even when you look like this.”

Why not? I expected him to ask, but he didn’t. Instead, Wit flipped the blinker before pulling the truck over to the side of the road. He threw on the hazard lights, then turned to me.

“No caption,” Wit answered.
“So just the hashtag?” I said. “Hurray She’s a Dupré?”
He sighed.
“Sarah and Michael,” I reminded him. “It’s for Sarah and Michael.”
“Wrong,” Wit said. “This is for us.”

“But I’m licking your face,” I said, pointing to the screen. “I’m licking your face.”
He smirked. “And what a beautiful face it is.”
I snorted.
“Come on,” he said. “Post it. It’s us.”
It’s us.

after I’d secured the TP (and a box of Nature Valley bars).

What?” I asked.
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.

speedometer’s needle didn’t go above twenty-five the rest of the way back

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.