Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

29 - Rebecca

          I was relieved when I woke up and Colby was there, wrapped around me like a blanket of cold warmth — it was hard to explain his temperature. He was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling against my back. I wondered if he'd even left at all, but I noticed that his backpack had moved from the corner and sat by the bed instead, as if he'd dumped it on his way in. It looked fuller than before.

My entire body tingled as I looked back at Colby's sleeping face, the peaceful, boyish face I liked. He was long gone, with no sign of becoming conscious any time soon. I wondered if he slept better when I was there. I knew that I did, because I didn't feel even remotely tired, despite the early morning.

When did he go to sleep? I wondered. Surely it couldn't have been long ago, yet he was knocked out cold.

I forced myself out of bed, carefully removing his arms from around me and sneaking to my closet. I picked out a muddy green, cropped, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black jeans. After a second, I added a belt too. I showered and changed, making sure my hair was curly as always and my makeup wasn't too much. I was satisfied with my appearance by the end.

The thought of going to the studio was far from appealing to me, but I knew I could waste at least an hour or more going there, and then I would have to find something else to do while waiting for Colby.

Tonight didn't frighten me at all like I thought it would. I had never had a boyfriend — Colby wasn't technically that but it didn't matter — so I had never had to go through meeting a guy's friends or his family. It should have scared me... except I kind of knew his friends already. I had spent some time with them, eavesdropping on their conversations and wanting to smile, though I hadn't really. The scary part should have come in the thought that I didn't seem like the kind of person who would be able to get a boyfriend. And Colby wasn't the kind of person who would be able to get a girlfriend. Girls, sure, but not a girlfriend. Still, though, I wasn't afraid about that. I was confident in everything that I did, which included my choices.

Some of them might be confused, but anything they commented about would go over my head, so I was feeling good about tonight. It showed that Colby and I were going in the right direction already. I just hoped we wouldn't fight too much in front of the others — fights were inevitable, it was silly to hope we didn't fight at all. We hadn't had a conversation without fighting a little yet.

Before I knew it, I was shutting the studio door behind myself. The studio was quiet as I ascended the stairs, and I had a feeling it was because barely anybody was here. I double-checked my phone, considering texting Jax to get his ass down here, when I saw two people sitting at their tables — one of which Jax himself. The other was the girl who's chair I broke... Broken Chair Girl, I decided — BCG for short.

BCG glanced at me when she saw movement in the the corner of her eye but she didn't say anything, turning back to the designs on her sketchpad. I saw a wad of fabric sitting beside her, drawn on with some sort of permanent marker.

Jax saw me and leaped to his feet. "Miss Woods! Would you like to see the design?" he asked immediately, pointing towards the door.

I nodded. He rushed down the stairs while I slowly followed him. He led me to the same storage room, which still held the five mannequins with the good designs on them. But now there was another, this one black. I stared at that design for a long moment in thought, a million ideas flowing through my head.

"What do you think, Miss Woods?" Jax asked.

"Where's the sketch?"

He stuttered. "Um, upstairs. Do you-"

"Get it," I ordered.

He didn't even hesitate, darting up the stairs down the hall. A few moments later, he came back with a notebook completely empty besides this one drawing. "We all worked on it. I added the finished touches like the lace here." He pointed at the waist. "It's... well, it was kinda inspired by you."

My eyes snapped to Jax's and I felt a little annoyed. "Me? Why me? Are you mocking me?!" My voice was loud at the end, but not as loud as I wanted it to be.

Jax raised his hands. "No! But we know that you like black and showing a bit of skin. It was a simple inspiration, really. Based on your style."

I stared at him silently.

"If you don't like it, we can-"

"No," I said, looking down at the sketch. "I'd like to keep ahold of this. Put the design itself in a box and bring it to me... I'll be in my office."

Jax looked stunned, but he got to work immediately. I walked down the hall to my office, unlocking the door and heading inside. BCG had been right about the dust, which I hadn't noticed until now. I ignored it as I walked behind my desk and slumped into the chair. This felt weird, very weird. I put the sketchbook down in front of me, staring at the idea, which had been brought to life in the other room. It looked delicate but devious, which kind of described me perfectly. The ideas flashing through my head just wouldn't stop suddenly, and I had to get them down.

I flicked to the next page and started to sketch everything that I could see in my head — all on one page. They were lots of little thumbnail sketches that reminded me of myself. I hadn't been inspired in a long time, certainly not in this way. Jax came in at some point, but I didn't hear him because I was so focused on my drawings.

There was a little thump followed by a cough followed by footsteps coming up to my desk. I still didn't look up.

"Are you thinking about designing, Miss Woods?" Jax asked hesitantly.

"No," I lied.

"Well, if you... if you are, we'd all love to make your designs. Mrs Woods always spoke highly of-"

"Don't fucking bring her up," I growled, slamming my hand on the table. I looked up at Jax furiously, my heart pounding in my chest. He flinched and backed all the way to the door.

"Sorry, Miss Woods."

"You're not forgiven. Get the fuck out of my office."

He did, without hesitation, and I turned my attention back to my sketches. Was I really going to do this? I hadn't designed since I was a teenager and I was twenty-one now, living my best life being a bitch. Tying myself down to designing seemed... foolish. But I couldn't get these ideas out of my head, even if they were on paper in thumbnail form.

I lost track of time. I had filled most of the pages of the sketchbook by the time the blasting music upstairs died down. My eyes flickered to the time and I panicked; Colby would be awake soon. I was starved from a lack of breakfast and lunch, and I had to hang out with Colby's friends tonight.

What a day to get distracted by designing, of all things.