Page 349 of As the Rain Falls
“Just don’t get sick on my watch, okay?”
“Onyourwatch?” 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.
