Page 111 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)

A LEARNING CURVE

Cassandra

Beckett only eats organic fruits. He goes to the local markets every Saturday morning instead of the bigger convenience stores and supermarkets, and picks each product by hand. It’s entirely too fascinating to watch him be so absorbed in the task, and I could write bad poetry about it forever.

We spend the day running errands around town, and I tag along even though a lot of it is very mundane and boring. Once we’re low on gas, he pulls into a station near Sainte Madeleine.

I stay in the car, mindlessly typing on my notes app. I’m writing out a list of things we should do together on dates once he officially asks me out, because I think he might do it sometime soon.

“At least, I hope he does,” I mumble, pouting a little.

It’d be really sad if he didn’t.

I’m a catch!

Beckett disappears and returns ten minutes later, holding a bottle of orange soda and a white chocolate bar. He fills our tank, and I try not to stare at him too much through the rearview mirror.

“For you,” he says, handing me the drink as he slides into the driver’s seat.

I take it. “Thanks.”

Another car pulls up for gas. I ignore it while watching Beckett as he rips the packaging open with his teeth, takes a bite, chews a few seconds, and then grimaces.

“I hate white chocolate,” he groans.

I take a sip of the soda, pausing when the bubbles make my throat hurt. “They didn’t have anything else?”

“No, they did.”

He offers the chocolate to me.I take a small bite, only then noticing it’s my favorite kind: white chocolate with toasted almonds. Not fancy or special, just a gas station find, but the taste is good enough.

“Like it?”

“It’s good,” I admit. “Maybe a bit too sweet.”

“Mn.” Beckett starts the car, steals my drink, and takes a long gulp. I pout, annoyed, but he only shakes his head. “Learn to share.”

“I thought you hated it.” I scoff.

“And I do. I’m just trying out something.”

“What?”

He smirks. “If you don’t remember, I’m not about to point it out to you either.”

I blink, feeling a little confused. “Okay.”

At least now I get to eat the chocolate, too.

“The city’s awfully quiet,” I say, watching the empty streets as we drive.

“This isn’t the busiest area either,” Beckett replies, checking the rearview. “And it’s going to rain later, like it did last night.”

“Really?” I roll my eyes. “I was starting to enjoy the sun again.”

“The east side is flooded,” he says, readjusting his seatbelt. “Mateo’s lucky his mom’s apartment is on the second floor.”

“Yeah, but the salon isn’t, right?” I bite my lower lip, worried. “What if something gets ruined?”

“It’s not enough water to damage anything,” Beckett reassures me. “Just means she’ll have to mop.”

I nod, swallowing hard. Mateo’s mom seems to have worked very hard to afford buying everything. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.

“We should stop by later and help.”

“Sure.”

A moment later, rain starts to fall. It thickens after a while, pounding the windshield and fogging up the glass. Beckett tries to drive through it for half an hour before pulling over on the side of the road to wait it out.

We finish eating our snacks in silence, our eyes meeting, lingering, then darting away. I shift over the leathered seat, angsty enough to want something to happen. He rolls up the windows, and I watch the condensation gather on the glass.

“We’re still meeting Angelina, though, right?” I ask, just to fill in the silence. We’re supposed to meet her and Mateo for pizza. Antony has capoeira. Kayla is busy with dance.

“Yeah,” Beckett says, watching me now. “I told her we might be late. I wanted to spend some time alone with you.”

“Oh!” I blush. “Okay!”

I play with the hem of my skirt. Kayla’s, actually. She’s taller, and we don’t wear the same size, but I made it work with a hair tie trick I saw online once.

“Stop looking at me!” I blush, but it feels silly to pretend I’m not seconds away from doing something reckless.

The seatbelt clicks free.

Beckett locks the car, and I move, but he’s already meeting me halfway. His hand cradles my face, and his thumb touches my cheek, my jaw, and the corners of my lips.

Memorizing.

Claiming.

“You’re so beautiful.”

And just like that, I become his.

The driver’s seat shifts back, and the space between us disappears. I make a faint sound that’s a lot like begging, clinging to him. I’m on top of him, and he is under me, thighs parting to make room for my legs. We’re not doing anything yet, but it feels like we’re doing plenty, though.

He angles his head slightly to the right, making sure we’re fitting perfectly, and I just do my very best at not passing out as I wait for him to kiss me. It’s delicate when he finally does it. The kiss is really soft at first.

Testing.

Tasting.

Wanting.

My palms mold against the shape of his shoulders. His hands grab my waist, pulling me towards him possessively. I let him and help him even.

His fingers push the skirt I’m wearing up, finding my shorts underneath. I whimper when his tongue meets mine, tasting sugar, oranges and chocolate, too sweet but perfect, and the sound of my voice is so girly for him.

My mind starts unraveling.

It’ll ruin everything.

Me.

Him.

Us.

We’re already fighting to keep the broken pieces together. I can’t stand our timing and how off it’s been all along. But the worst part? I can feel him sneakily slipping deep every single time, and he has yet to take my clothes off.

I can ruin Beckett Evans in more ways than one, and I want to ruin him like this every single time. I just can’t let him have the upper hand. Not again.

Fuck him and leave.

It’s an old, small voice in my head, like a familiar instinct. I thought the right boy would chase it away and fix my broken pieces, but I’m still me. The same stupid, broken girl.

I take his hands, guiding them underneath my shirt. He palms the sides of my breasts, bringing them closer together, rolling my nipples gently between his fingers.I immediately shudder .My back arches, and he gives me the faintest whimper that makes me want to die.

Beckett likes this. Of course, he does. But what surprises me is that I do, too.

God, I love it for all the wrong reasons.

For starters, that’s all I know. Sex is my constant now.

My solution for when my skin feels tight is to find a way for me to make things worse, destroy myself a little more, and take it a little further.

Make him stop.

Please, I’m ruining everything.

Beckett breaks the kiss.

“Hold on,” he murmurs. “Can we stop for a second?”

My lips tingle. His are swollen, the same color as my favorite gloss.

My breath catches.

“Why?” I ask, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, insisting on the wrongness even though I shouldn’t. “Did I do something wrong?”

Beckett smiles at hearing that, his gaze overflowing with fondness. “No, baby. You know you didn’t.”

“Then let’s keep going.”

Destructive.

I am officially completely destructive.

“Cass,” he warns.

I kiss him, and he kisses me back, but it’s lighter now. Something has shifted, like he’s thinking this through now.

I exhale against him. “Kiss me, please.”

“Slow down, I’m being serious.”

So am I, Beckett. So am I.

I tilt his chin up, bringing him closer to me. He kisses me first this time. Slow, just how I like it, but then pulls away again. I start growing impatient.

“What now?”

“We’re friends, you and I. Very good ones. I don’t want things to get weird eventually, so maybe we should talk to each other.” He kisses my wrist. “Communicate, and all that.”

I stiffen, the phrasing bothering me.I’m more than a friend at this point, or at least I should be. And then suddenly, I think back to that note I was writing on my phone and how he still hasn’t asked me out.

“Is that really all I am to you?” The words come out a little snappier than I mean for them to be. “A friend?”

“That’s not—”

A short, indignant exhale escapes past my lips.

The same ones he just kissed.

“Do I taste like a good friend to you? Is this what we’re doing right now?”

“This is exactly what I’m trying to prevent,” Beckett points out. “I’m trying to take care of you here.”

I don’t know why, but what he says saddens me.

He wants to handle me with care. I just want to be his.

“So, you’re denying it?” I press. “I’m not yours.”

“Yes, you are.” He kisses the corner of my lips, like he can’t help himself. “And no, baby. I’m not denying it. I like you more than a friend, too.”

It softens a bit, and we kiss again, slower this time, a quick peck first, then another. But before I know it, I’m getting in my head again.

Beckett might like me and even feel attracted to me, but he’s not taking me seriously. Not really. I know he’s not, and anyway, why would he?

I’m rocking my hips against his now.I don’t understand what’s wrong with me, or why I can’t fucking stop. My eyes are stinging with unshed tears; the constant rejection coming from him keeps killing me slowly when he just won’t pull my clothes off and fuck me.

Beckett drops his hands to my hips, holding me still.

“Cassandra, I asked you to stop.”

His voice is loud and strong.

Imposing, even.

“And every time you start getting overwhelmed like you are right now, I’m going to stop you,” he emphasizes. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Okay.” I let my gaze drop, noticing for the first time how Beckett is watching me, seeing through me, noticing the things I can’t. I feel like I’m being scolded, but I don’t know what I did wrong. “Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Cassandra, where’s your head at?” he asks.

And suddenly, as terrible as it sounds, I can see myself through his eyes too. How my heart is beating too fast, how my breathing sounds like a struggle. How I’m wet and needy, but it all feels wrong.

My mind twirls, spiraling endlessly.

When did that fucking happen?

We were just eating our snacks a few minutes ago.