Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

24 - Rebecca

          My dreams changed. I didn't know when — or how I remembered the other ones I had — but I was no longer with Colby in them. I was with my mother instead, which was a less-than pleasant thought. We were designing together in the studio, both of us having completely contrasting ideas. She liked white, I liked black. She made a long, beautiful gown that looked fit for a bride; I made a short, tight black dress fit for a club. And yet, when we made the dresses, they looked compatible with one another, fit one another. I hated that thought more than I hated my mother.

And that was how I woke up the next morning: angry. It wouldn't be the first time, but it was the first time I'd woken up angry wrapped in arms I didn't remember going to sleep in. It was different to when I had been on the couch with the culprit. I was lying facing my window — which was unfortunately open — with my back pressed against another body. The arms were wrapped around my waist and holding tight, a head tucked into my curly hair. I felt that our legs were tangled under the covers, too. But with my rage, I couldn't bring myself to accept how good it made me feel, and I jumped out of bed, spinning to look at Colby.

He instantly hissed, blocking the sun from touching his eyes. I rolled my eyes and punched his shoulder, making him look at me. "What the hell! I didn't say you could come to bed with me, asshole," I growled at him, pushing.

"Not my fault you left me," he grumbled, rolling to face the other way.

"Hey!" I jumped onto my bed and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him onto his back. I was pinning him down, though I doubted my strength was what was keeping him there. "You should have stayed on the couch. I didn't invite you in here."

"All or nothing," he said, snarling. His eyes flicked up and down my body before he snapped. His hands grabbed my legs and pulled them from under me, catching me as he rolled over the top. Now he was pinning me by my wrists. He kissed me harshly and I would be lying if I said this wasn't exactly what I needed. My frustrations were releasing with every movement our lips made together. I found myself reaching down to tug his jeans to me, but I felt the fabric of sweatpants instead.

I pulled back, frowning. He had changed.

"You left," I accused.

"Yes."

"Why?" I demanded, sitting up.

He sat up too, watching me carefully with those dangerous blue eyes. He looked completely edible in those sweatpants.

"I didn't want to sleep in jeans." He shrugged, then smirked. "Why, don't you want me to leave?"

I rolled my eyes, but that wasn't enough. He touched his palm to my cheek, staring into my eyes. My heart fluttered.

"That's a real question."

I felt stupid as I looked away from him. "No."

"And that's why I came back to you."

My heart fluttered again, only this time, my breath hitched, too. Something about that phrase lit a fire inside me. I realised I wanted him to come back to me. Always. I groaned and fell down onto my bed, lying facing away from him. As if he knew what I wanted, he lay down behind me, his arms slithering around my waist. His lips touched my shoulder then he settled his face in my hair. I bit my lip, hard, almost hard enough to draw blood.

"I'm going back to sleep," Colby murmured to me, his voice soft. "I normally sleep during the day so I won't be up until later."

"I never said you could sleep here," I grumbled.

He just squeezed me tight once — his way of saying 'I don't care' — and then he was silent. I didn't know how long I laid there with him, letting him just hold me to him as he drifted to sleep. Only when I was certain that he was asleep did I twist in his arms to face him. His eyes were closed, his face boyish again like last night. I stared at him for a little while, admiring everything about that face. There were so many hidden gems I had never seen before, like his cheeks, which were slightly chubby, but not so much to make his whole face chubby. And, somehow for the first time, I noticed the piercing on his nose. Then the piercings in his ears. And I saw the secret curls hidden beneath the straight hair on his head. My hands reached up automatically at that point, brushing the straight back. Those curls were cute — more so than I wanted to admit. Time just didn't exist while we laid there. After his face, there was his arms and chest to examine, though most of him was covered. He wasn't bulky muscular, he wasn't lanky, but he was lean. He had muscles that stuck close under his skin, but were strong and dangerous.

I twisted back around in his arms. As I looked down at his hands, I saw the bird tattoo on one and the crown tattoo on his wrist. It took me a moment of staring to realise that he wasn't wearing his rings, so now I could see the veins of his hands without getting distracted. How was he so attractive? It didn't seem fair to me.

By the time I had finished my inspection of him, it had to have been hours. Genuinely. I pulled his hands away from my waist and slid out of bed, picking up my phone as I walked to the kitchen. I read over some texts, which I'd never heard yesterday during the movie. They were from Tara, asking me if I was 'fucking alright'. I replied to her.

'Yes, bitch, I'm alive. Stop asking.'

I ate breakfast then went to shower. When I came out, I stood in my bedroom wearing only a towel eyeing Colby suspiciously. He hadn't moved from when I'd left him yet, so he was facing away from me with his eyes shut. Asleep, probably. I didn't want to risk it. I found an outfit and went back to the bathroom.

I wore a black, long-sleeved, cropped shirt with thumb holes above a dark-coloured checkered skirt that didn't even reach my mid-thigh. I put on a pair of ankle boots to go with it and curled my hair, tying half of it up as I always did.

I didn't want to leave Colby alone in my apartment — I wasn't sure if that was because of worry for my apartment or because I knew he wouldn't want me leaving him alone — so I chose not to leave at all, at least until he woke up. I sat down on my couch, smelling his cologne on the cushions, and I pulled my phone out. I was determined to waste as much time as possible until I went mad.

Hours passed.