Page 22 of As the Rain Falls
“Come with me.”
Beckett clutches the car keys in his pocket, taking them out and spinning them between his fingers. I only now notice that his red Chevy is parked on the other side of the road.
The sky lights up.He breaks our eye contact just to stare angrily at it, like the weather is personally irritating the shit out of him. My neighbor doesn’t like it when it rains either. It makes me smile a little, how we have at least one thing in common.
Beckett pulls me closer, hugging me sideways, and I try to speak above all the noise as we walk.
“Tough morning?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
“Oh, shut up!” Beckett answers with a snort.
I roll my eyes dramatically and say, “Sorry for asking.”
The umbrella is big enough to protect the both of us, but he keeps tilting it back towards my side so that rain falls more over him than me. It’s cute.
I try to tilt it back on his side, but as soon as rain touches my hair again, I shudder, feeling cold.
“It’s okay, Cass,” he promises. “I don’t mind getting rained on.”
“But you’ll get cold.”
I trace the side of his face with my eyes, noticing the faint expression lines drawn between his sharp, thick eyebrows. They only happen to show if he frowns too much, which he is doing now.
Beckett smirks. “Oh, Cass. I never get cold.”
He’s so goddamn pretty.
Beckett Evans is the perfect example of a classic pretty boy.
He is the prettiest boy in town, in fact.It is almost a rite of passage for girls around town to fall for his looks. Everybody I know is guilty of it, and in a lot of ways, so am I. It’s like that one quote from Clueless, but only the opposite of it. Beckett Evans is not a Monet: he looks even better up close.
“What’s up?”
I blink fast. “Oh, nothing.”
“Cass,” his tone is flat.
I wince and say, “Yes, Becky?”
“Are we really doing this?” he insists, fighting off one of his boxy smiles. He asks again. “What’s up?”
“I’m not going to tell you!” I press my hands to my cheeks, choosing to stare at my feet as we walk. “Wouldn’t want to feed your ego, or something.”
He blinks hard, confused.
“My ego?”
“It’s gigantic and out of this world!” I try really hard not to let out a girly giggle as he keeps me from tripping over my feet again by grabbing my waist. “I’m serious!”
He rolls his eyes playfully. “Like hell you are! Tell me what’s up immediately, Rivera!”
“Let it go!” I speak in a singsong, glancing at him sideways.
“Okay, I will!” he sings back, fixing his hair in the rearview.
God, I really can’t take my eyes off him for some reason.It’s entirely embarrassing.
The heat getting to my face is making me sweat, and the feeling increases tenfold when he avoids my gaze, his face breaking into a knowing smirk.
