Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

34 - Rebecca

          "You've hurt her!" Tara exclaimed.

I jerked back from Colby, turning to see Tara glaring right at him. I twisted around on his lap, barely perching on one of his legs.

"I knew you didn't- I knew you-"

"Tara, the fuck are you talking about?" I growled at her. The shock of re-entering the red room was making me a little disoriented, but I pushed that aside.

"Your back! And your wrist!"

I flinched at how loud she was being. Was that necessary?

"Tone down the volume, fuck," I snapped. "And what about them?"

"You're bruised, Beck!"

I drew in a breath and let it out in a sigh, staring at Tara. She was panicked, and a couple of the others looked slightly worried. They were eyeing the bruises poking out from my sleeve. I pulled it over my hand, crossing my arms over my chest.

"That was before. He grabbed me a little too hard. It happens." I shrugged.

Tara glared at Colby. "Yeah, sure it does."

I suddenly felt a finger lightly touch my lower back and whipped my head in Colby's direction. He was looking at where the bruise was from the party, when he'd grabbed me a little too hard because he didn't know better. When he met my eyes, he looked a little hurt. He was silently asking me why I hadn't told him.

"It doesn't matter," I muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

"It does, actually," he snapped.

The embarrassment flooded out, replaced by annoyance. I looked back at Tara; she seemed a little confused now.

"He didn't know he'd done them. Accident, Tara. Now chill the fuck out."

She wasn't going to calm down any time soon, but I knew I could ignore her now. I let go of my sleeves at some point, and Colby carefully grabbed the same wrist with the bruises. He stared at the perfect print of his hand on my skin.

"Stop." I pulled my hand away.

He looked away guiltily, and I knew that any ounce of the good mood he was in was gone. Did he really care that much about a tiny bruise — one that he did before we became whatever this is? It seemed stupid to me.

I sighed heavily. "They're nothing, I don't even blame you." My voice was soft — softer than anyone else in the room had ever heard it. I hoped that they didn't, but the only sound in the room was the music.

His face showed no sign of relenting.

"Fine. Where's your room? I wanna bring my bag inside."

He looked at me sharply.

"What, think I'm gonna walk away because of a few tiny bruises? Grow the fuck up, Colby." I rolled my eyes and nodded towards the door. "Gonna show me or do I have to guess?"

His eyes flicked to Sam over my shoulder but I grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at me instead. I raised an eyebrow. He was still hesitant.

"Top of the stairs."

"Thank you. Keys?"

He handed them to me. I quickly kissed him and stood up, glaring at Tara before I walked out of the room. The freedom of being away from all the eager eyes and ears was relieving as I went outside, unlocking his car. I pulled my backpack onto my shoulder and locked it up again, jogging back from the hallway.

As I looked up at the top of the stairs, I saw double doors. No way, I thought excitedly.

Opening those doors was more surprising than seeing them. The room was huge with a grey couch sitting basically in the middle of it. A laptop sat there abandoned, but that wasn't what caught my attention first; it was the huge gothic bed with black and grey sheets and pillows. I couldn't help it when I gasped.