Page 340 of Breaking the Rules

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For it to not matter.

It's going to take time.

But that doesn't mean it needs to hang over us.

I know how to relax her.

I sit at her desk. Wake her computer. Pull a few albums into a playlist.

There.

She lets out a sigh of contentment as a familiar guitar riff fills the room.

"This is my favorite song now." I turn back to her.

"Good taste."

"I think about you every time I hear it."

"Since last night?"

"Since always."

"Oh. Well, good."

"It's not on your desk."

"Add it."

I pick up a silver sharpie. "I'm not sure I can."

She nods. "It's tradition. People I care about write on the desk."

"I see your handwriting and Kaylee's."

"There aren't many people I care about."

"Just sounds like a made up tradition."

She laughs. "That's how all traditions start." She motions to the desk. "Pick your favorite part and write it."

I do. I scribble the lyrics that make me think of her.

Of us.

Of what I want to say to her.

"Read it to me," she says.

"I'll do you one better." I play the song. Skip to the lyrics I wrote for her. Adorn them with the perfect design as they play.

An ornate key next to a locked heart.

It's obvious.

But it's right.

She stands and moves toward me.

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