Page 372 of As the Rain Falls
His kiss is slow, not rushed or urgent. I feel his teeth pulling my bottom lip softly, making my stomach flip. When his fingers grab my hair, merging my body to his, I know nothing will ever feel like this. No other guy will ever have me like he does. I could never be another’s, not even if I tried really hard to belong.
I’d always remember that at my worst, no one held me quite like he did, and it wouldn’t be fair to put someone else through all that…
All the craziness, right?
I already feel selfish enough for allowing myself to keep him this close.
It should be enough.
I should be happy.
Why don’t I feel happy?
The kiss ends, and I clutch his shirt like I’m afraid he’ll be another thing to lose. Someone I’ll grow to miss. A stranger I’ll get to think about sometimes but never call or speak to again. Terror starts to take over me, but I try to pretend that it isn’t true. What I’m feeling, as bad as it is, can’t be real.
“I should take the trash out,” I whisper, opening my eyes to see him watching me. “It’s all piled up in the kitchen. Mrs. Pereira will freak out when she comes home.”
Beckett giggles.
He sounds so happy now.
Good.
Maybe I finally managed to trick him, too.
“Okay, you do that. I’ll save you a piece of cake.”
I nod absentmindedly. “Make it a big one.”
WHEN I STOP BREATHING
Cassandra
MARCH, 2017
The trash bag landswith a dull thud at the bottom of the dumpster. I stare at it for a little too long, feeling a weight pressing down on my chest. My body hasn’t been the same since Nathaniel tried to pick me up at school. I am a long piece of thread starting to snap.
Stop thinking about it.
Just one night.
You deserve just one night.
Try to have some fun.
I dust my hands off on the sides of my dress, breathing in the soft chill of the night air. My mind still races, despite how hard I’m trying to calm down.
Feeling guilty about not being present at this moment, the only thought that keeps me sane is how I can still taste Beckett, more specifically, the sweet taste of his mint gum. He keeps a pack of it in his truck, pops a few into his mouth throughout the day, and I write down such little details just in case I start to forget about them, too.
It makes me feel comforted.
Safe.
That deep sense of knowing we talked about keeps taking roots. I don’t think I want to pull them out anymore. I think I want them to stay.
Some days, when I’m happy enough about the world, I get too stupidly hopeful. That stormy day back in October feels so mundane, so far in my scattered brain, but some pieces of that girl are still present inside of me. She shows up whenever I’m thinking about Beckett, at least.
“Happy birthday to Mateo! Happy birthday to Mateo!”
