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Rule #1: Don’t fall for your brother’s best friend.

Rule #2: Wait… What was rule number one again?

The summer I grew boobs, my big brother laid down some ground rules: No touching, looking, or breathing near his baby sister. He made it clear I could never get with his friends. His buddies obliged. I did, too. Until I didn’t. 

Blame the sarcastic, damaged blue-eyed boy sneaking in through my bedroom window every night. William Martins: hotter than sin, king of “it wasn’t me who pat your shoulder, I swear”… and my brother’s best friend.

I didn’t mean to get stuck in the bathroom with him at that party. I didn’t mean to end up high as a kite and half-naked in his childhood tree house. But you know what else I didn’t mean to do? Fall for the guy who won’t catch me. 

Will says we can’t happen. He‘ll break my heart long before he breaks the bro code. Problem is, stolen moments in the dark give me hope that maybe, just maybe… I could break his heart, too.

When gasp-worthy secrets surface and the rules keeping us apart become the very threads drawing us together, we’re left with a dilemma: Follow my brother’s rules...

Or forget them.

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