Page 128 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)

TEACH ME HOW TO SMOKE!

Cassandra

L’Impasse has a clientele with a penchant for getting high, and whether the cops know about it or not remains a mystery to me.

Antony saved the day by befriending an older guy in the queue; otherwise, we wouldn’t be here. The guy knew a guy, who also knew a guy, and somehow, that meant we got in.

Points for Tony, I guess.

I’ve never thought about clubbing too much, mostly because it seems like the kind of thing older kids should be doing. It’s a cool place to visit, though, with dark neon lights coming from the ceiling and leathered walls that smell of smoke.

The barman is a guy in his mid-twenties with white- bleached hair and a no-bullshit type of attitude.

He shoves weak drinks into our hands because he can tell that we shouldn’t be here.

There is a silent beat between our group before I swallow a tiny sip.

Something about the way he looks at me, trying to remember why my face looks so familiar, makes me giggle.

I’m the naked girl from Sainte Madeleine , I want to say. But Angelina drags me away before I can, while singing the lyrics of Feds Watching at the top of her lungs. Kayla is pretending not to be laughing at her.

“Drop top! Head bopping!”

The three of us are wearing matching black sleeveless dresses we paid half the price for at a store called Moda 2005 that’s about to close. The fabrics are sparkly and skin-tight, but the tag at the back makes my skin itchy.

“Is that Irene?” Kayla gasps, waving her hand towards one of her dance friends. “Irene!”

She drops us to talk to her friend, and Angelina and I get lost on our way to the bathroom, giggling together like children.

“Do you know how to smoke, Cassie-girl?”

“I don’t think so!” I yell loudly, trying to speak over the music. “Do you?”

“Of course! Let me teach you!”

We spend the next ten minutes wiggling our way through the crowd. Our hands are tied together, and it feels really good to have her by my side. A couple of months ago, my thoughts would’ve been very different than they are now.

Angelina Cardoso is my friend. I think she even likes me.

“No spit at the tip. This isn’t a dick,” she warns me, pressing the cigarettes against my lip. “So it’s not the kind of thing you need spit for!”

“You’re so gross!” I roll my eyes at the blow job joke.

I try to inhale the right way, but it’s harder than it looks. She laughs loudly, sounding almost a little manic, and I chuckle a few times too. I feel so awkward wearing this dress that makes me look twenty and not seventeen and smoking a cigarette that I am not allowed to buy unless I’m older.

“Try again! Try again!”

The bathroom door gets unlocked, and Angelina and I turn to find Mateo standing there, holding a massive bag of chips in one hand and a Nerf gun in the other.

He takes one hard look at the both of us and sighs.

“You don’t look too good, Rivera.”

“I’m—” I wheeze, coughing up smoke. “Fine!”

Angelina laughs. “Girl, you can’t hold it in for that long!”

“Let me try again.” I ask, unwilling to accept defeat. “I know I can do this.”

I’ve really never smoked before. It’s always been more of my father’s thing or Nathaniel’s.

The smell of cigarettes is a scent that vaguely reminds me of long drives through the city in my father’s car when I was a little girl.

We used to be closer than we are now; I was his favorite and only daughter.

If I close my eyes shut, I can picture him pointing at the shops that hadn’t been there before I was born.

It’s a memory of a life that already happened.

Traces of a reality that can never be mine again.

I think it hurts me more when he doesn’t defend me. He seemed so angry that night when I walked into the kitchen—

“Here we go.” Angelina helps me up, placing the cigarette back between my lips. “Just don’t hold it in again, or you’re going to choke.”

For a girl who looks so intimidating, Angelina can be surprisingly gentle with me. It’s contradictory, but I like that about her. I like how she can be both gentle and harsh, strong and vulnerable, whereas I’m more of a flat note. Together, we become two sides of the same coin.

“Are you teaching her your bad ways, Cardoso?”

Mateo lets the Nerf gun fall to the floor and slips into the tub, resting his head against my thighs. This time, I exhale correctly, and Angelina does a happy dance.

“Yes!” The brunette grins, clasping her hands together. Her long dark hair frames the sides of her face, layers poking each way. I think she might’ve gotten a haircut before we came here. Her strands look more rebellious now. “Cassandra Rivera, you’ve been officially, properly, badly influenced!”

“I have!” I grin too, feeling my cheeks aching.

My rosacea has been flaring up like crazy these days. It’s probably stress. Nathaniel is coming home soon, something I don’t like to think about. Beckett keeps trying to talk about it, but I’m not into doing that—

Mateo rolls his eyes at me.

“What’s up, pretty boy?” I ask curiously.

His eyes are bruised from a fight at school. The look somehow suits him. He rolls them at me, which I find half-condescending and half-amusing.

“Just don’t get sick on my watch, okay?”

“On your watch?” I snort. “What are you going to do? Protect me?”

“It’s a cigarette, Gabriel. She’s not about to OD on nicotine.” Angelina sighs, her agitation turning into irritation. “We’re just having fun.”

“And I’m just saying,” he counters. “You know Becket will absolutely kill the rest of us if she gets hurt.”

I don’t know where this Beckett-being-protective-of-me theory is coming from. He had no problem letting me go dance with the girls, too busy chatting with Antony about his latest project.

“No, he won’t!” Angelina groans. “Stop being such a pussy!”

Mateo doesn’t answer, but I can tell he feels uncomfortable. I don’t think Beckett and he are on good terms, and I wonder why that is. It’s not exactly easy to notice because my boyfriend keeps to himself most of the time when we’re out together, but the awkwardness is there.

“Are you two fighting?” I ask them, a little unsure on how to proceed. I’m not the best at confrontation. “Because if that’s the case, I might just go and leave you two to it.”

Angelina smirks, rolling her eyes at me.

“Are we fighting Gabriel?” She turns to use the ashtray on the sink. “Is this what we’re doing tonight?”

“It’s what we are going to do if you don’t stop calling me by that name,” his tone turns dry, his eyes are impassive. “I don’t know why you keep doing it. Mateo fits me a lot better.”

Angelina says, “But it is your first name, isn’t it?”

I can’t tell what it is about his first name, but Mateo holds an incredible aversion to it.

When we’re in class, he always corrects the teachers who refer to him as Gabriel.

Angelina is the only person who gets away with it, and Antony does too occasionally, but today seems to be one of those days where he is in a bad mood.

I smile nervously at Angelina, urging her not to take the bait. She needs to let it go, not push him even further, until Mateo himself feels like talking to us about it.

I mess with his hair, wanting to lighten the mood.

“Why are you so moody?”

His pupils darken. “Nothing.”

Angelina snorts.

I stare at her, then at him, thinking about how they’re such an odd pair together.

Mateo’s head is covered with dark brown hair, curls framing his sharp edges.

It makes him look as rebellious as she does.

His skin is tan, but only a few shades darker than hers, and his lips are fuller compared to the thinness of hers.

He keeps a piercing in the right side of his nose now, something I recall hearing Antony bragging about convincing him to get; I think it gives him a punk look.

“Be real, Gabriel.” She takes a long drag. “Or get the fuck out of our spot.”

“I just don’t want to be here,” he whines, pouting like a baby. “They only have alcoholic drinks. I can’t have those.”

“Mn,” Angelina hums.

“That’s too bad.” I pause. “Remind me why you don’t drink.”

“I made a promise to my sisters, and I feel shitty breaking it sometimes just because they’re not here to see it happen,” his voice is quiet. “Our father was a bit of an asshole.”

“He drank a lot?”

Mateo chuckles, “A lot is an understatement.”

He lifts his shirt, revealing cigarette burns and faded scars along his ribs.

Angelina freezes.

So do I.

I don’t think I was paying attention before, when we went to the beach together. Mateo kept the past wounds hidden under his shirt, and by the looks of it, he wasn’t showing off his body to the girl standing next to me either.

“It was a long time ago,” Mateo reassures us, voice almost rehearsed. “My sisters had it a lot worse than I did. Especially Fernanda.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say. “You don’t need to—”

“I’m really not, Cassie.” He cuts me off gently. “It’s not that big of a deal. You asked me. I answered. Addiction runs in my family, and I don’t want to risk it.”

“So you’d never even had a beer before moving here?”

“He hadn’t,” Angelina answers before he can, with a tone that leaves room for interpretation.

I nod, keeping a kind smile as I look at her.

“How did you two meet each other again? I don’t think you’ve ever told me, Angie.”

She shakes her head. “Secret.”

“Oh.” I pout, feeling left out now.

“But it’s kind of impressive, honestly,” Angie swallows hard, and I can hear how sincere she sounds. “Keeping a promise for that long, I mean.”

“If you’re impressed by very little, I guess.” Mateo shrugs, glaring at the ceiling. “And it’s not like I’m still keeping it.”

Angelina’s expression shifts, and I can’t follow exactly why she’s getting upset, but she is.

“God, now I can’t even compliment you?”

“Oh, come on, Angelina.” Mateo scoffs. “You weren’t actually complimenting me, but whatever.”