Bending the Rules (The Rules, #1)

Brenna

Heat from the weathered pavement seeps through my dollar store flip-flops as Shea and I walk along the walkway lining the beach. The sun is beating down upon us, causing sweat to drip down the back of my neck, enhancing the scents of coconut sunscreen, deodorant, and sweat. The streets, beaches, and sidewalks of Penticton are busy despite the sweltering thirty-five degree weather. People, ranging from kids to elderly people, are enjoying their time in the sun either by sitting at picnic tables in the shade, swimming, or enjoying iconic milkshakes from The Peach.

The same milkshake stand Shea and I are heading for.

We're walking, hand-in-hand, down the walkway, winding our way around people and other obstructions. His hand is laced with mine, and the roughness of his palm rubs against my skin. Every so often, he squeezes my hand, which makes me look at him. Admire him from the corner of my gaze, hidden behind my sunglasses.

Today, Shea's dressed in swim shorts and sandals. His loose-fitting white T-shirt is knotted around his waist. As usual, he's wearing his hat backwards. Tufts of wet hair are curled at the nape of his neck. Some drops of water still drip from his hair, sliding down his freckled skin that's been kissed by the summer sun. The planes of his stomach are gorgeous, as is the persistent smile present on his lips. He hasn't stopped smiling since he picked me up.

Not that I can blame him. Summer has been riddled with working and prepping for post-secondary school. We've had several outings with our friends, but not enough time alone together. At least, that's how it feels. I'm sure our families would argue. Shea's spent lots of nights over at my house. He's visited me during breaks at work on his days off.

Still, it doesn't feel like enough time.

The end of August is approaching fast. Soon, he'll be leaving for Boston. I'll be driving to Vancouver. As a couple, we've made the executive decision to end our relationship indefinitely. Committing to a long-distance relationship wil attending post-secondary school isn't something either of us wants. KJ thinks we're putting our relationship on pause, and that every time we meet up, we'll succumb to our feelings.

Shea likes to think KJ's wrong. I think he's right. Whenever I think about falling in love with another man, my heart, brain, and gut feel repulsed. Although there was plenty of doubt throughout the last few months before graduation, no doubt resides in any entity. Whenever KJ makes a statement, he's usually right. That kid can be daft as a sack of hammers, but he's observant and genuine. Hate to say it, but I'll miss him, too.

Lost in thought, I don't realize Shea's looped his arm around my shoulders until he's kissing my neck, just beneath my ear. Shivers radiate down my spine, despite the hot summer sun. He smells like sunscreen and lake water; tropical and musky.

"Without sunglasses on"— he taps the sunglasses resting atop my head — "people can tell you're staring at me. Not that I can blame you, Bren. Hot commodity right here."