Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

41 - Rebecca

          I was drinking coffee when I stepped out of Colby's car. It was much needed caffeine after the fit I had thrown earlier, though it had been an internal tantrum for once, and I hadn't absolutely ripped apart anyone like I so desperately wanted to. The caffeine was a temporary distraction; Colby would be a long-lasting remedy. I wasn't sure if I could get over it without punching a wall, though. I hoped I could.

I had a small backpack hanging off of my shoulder just big enough for a sketchbook. For some reason, I had brought with me a new empty sketchbook with the intention of making some more designs. Although black was the only colour I would wear, I knew that I had to include some others — for customer satisfaction, or some other bullshit. Seeing Katrina and Devyn and Xepher — all of which liked colours a little too much, but still enjoyed black sometimes — I knew I could pull a little bit of inspiration from them and do some good drawings. I already had a plan of how.

The coffee helped me make it to the red room without kicking a hole in a wall — that would come later, if it had to. I was sure that I still looked angry, because I was still angry, but not quite as murderous as I would have looked without my drink.

Tara jerked up from Jake's lips when I entered the room, kicking the door shut carefully behind myself. She jumped from Jake's lap and moved what seemed to be too fast up to me, grabbing me. I tried to push her back but she didn't budge.

"Hey, bitch, let go," I said, clutching my coffee so I wouldn't drop it with the intention of kicking her out.

Tara was grinning when she pulled back — it wasn't entirely sincere. "Just glad to see you," she teased.

"Yeah, well don't be if you're gonna do that again. I'm already riled up." I walked away from her to Colby's chair, which he was laid across. He hadn't even acknowledged my existence yet, staring intently at his phone. I knew he was just eavesdropping. I dropped my backpack next him before taking his phone out of his hand. He didn't fight it, letting me quickly climb over him as I kissed him. It was light and innocent; just a hello. And somehow I was casually straddling his waist, sipping my coffee.

"I still want to punch a wall," I muttered as I leaned down to put the lidded cup on the floor beside my backpack. I didn't entirely sit back up again, looking down at Colby. "That bitch was pushing her luck."

"What did she do?" he asked quietly, brushing my hair behind my ear so it didn't fall over his face.

"It's more of a personal thing. She made a comment I didn't appreciate. Wouldn't have pissed anyone else off, but I wanted to throttle her. And she mistook my annoyance for 'moody teenager'. I'm fucking twenty-one, but sure."

Colby smiled a little at me as he snuck his other hand on my thigh — the one hidden by the back of his chair and our bodies. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Don't do that down here."

He didn't stop, trailing up closer to the hem of my skirt.

"Colby," I warned, "you know I'm riled up already."

Something told me that was why he was doing it, though, because he knew that when I was angry, I tended to get a little excited at the same time. And this was making that ten times worse, especially considering I was straddling him.

His fingers just brushed the skin of my upper thigh — beneath my skirt — when Kevin, who I hadn't realised was missing to start with, walked into the room. He whistled as he looked at me, and Colby growled at him. The sound was deeper than I expected it to be; animalistic, even. I couldn't be sure it was definitely him who'd made it. But he had, because he was still glaring at Kevin when I spotted his face.

"Woah, kid. Calm ya self," Kevin mused as he raised his hands in the air. Colby still looked pissed. I knew how to fix that, but I didn't want to yet.

"Keep your whistles to yourself," I snapped, glaring at him. "As well as your eyes."

"What if I don't want to?"

Colby opened his mouth, but I subtly punched his chest. "I'm seriously in the mood to beat someone up, and you'd be my first choice."

Kevin placed his hand on his chest as if he was flattered and grinned at me. "I wanna see that."

"You don't," I promised.

He paused for a second, glancing at Colby, then rolled his eyes before walking to his normal place on the couch. I turned to Colby too, wondering what Kevin had seen that made him back down. I narrowed my eyes, but Colby was glaring at the back of the chair. I thought I saw silver in the whites of his eyes, but it disappeared before I could get a good look.

He met my gaze, still fuming somewhere in there. So was I, and we had a mutual treatment for that. I leaned down, kissing him for a little while. The anger passed between us as soon as our lips touched and I felt the rest of my frustration from the day fading. Whilst Colby himself tended to piss me off, he fixed my anger issues in a sort of healthy way. I wasn't splitting my knuckles on a wall, at least.

When I pulled back from the kiss, I had a sudden flash of ideas. Mostly red, beautiful, lace tops. The images were so vivid that I didn't want to let them slip away: I had to get them down. I quickly reached down to my backpack and pulled out my sketchbook and pencil. My earlier planning of how I would draw came into practice now as I put the sketchbook down on Colby's chest.

"I'm using you as my table," I told him, leaving no room for argument.

He didn't look like he was going to anyway as I started a thumbnail sketch of just one of the designs I'd pictured. Where had those images come from? I didn't know. But they reminded me of both romance, violence, and anger all at once.

It took me a minute to realise they represented Colby and I.