Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

43 - Rebecca

          I kept biting my lip. I didn't mean to do it, because I was so focused, but every time I did, Colby's hand in my hair would get tighter. I would glance at him apologetically and let go of my lip, only for the cycle to repeat again a little later.

It was becoming impossible to concentrate as Colby's thumb brushed over my cheek. His relentless stare at my face had been painfully obvious to me this whole time anyway, but now the fact that I was sitting on him was also getting through to me, as well as the realisation that we hadn't actually fought yet.

More of a revelation, and a problem that needed to be fixed.

"You're a distraction," I muttered, drawing the shape of a curvy woman's waist as a base for my next refined sketch.

"You sat on me," he reminded me, following a stray curly hair down my neck with his fingertip. I shivered as he got to my collar bone and stopped, replacing his hand in my hair.

"Mhm. Sam's not distracting Katrina but she's sitting on him. You're just doing it on purpose."

He smirked, tugging lightly at my hair. I almost let him pull me down but I fought it, trying to keep my eyes only on my drawing. I finished the ragged part of the sketch before I glared at him. I knew that I would lose all interest in my work as soon as I met his gaze. And I did, because I suddenly wanted to drop the sketchbook in my bag and forget about it.

"Are you done?" I asked him, nudging my face against his hand.

He pursed his lips staring at me, considering whether he was done or not. I raised my eyebrows. A playful mood flowed over me for a second, and a part of me wanted to keep it. So I turned my head and just barely bit his hand. He jerked it away, the look on his face a mixture of confused and amused. I just smirked at him. His expression twisted into annoyance, surprisingly, and I rolled my eyes. The playful mood was gone now, replaced by the same annoyance he felt. I couldn't tell what it was at — I didn't think it was me.

But I said one of my favourite phrases, which just so happened to fit in with the situation. "Bite me, bitch."

Colby's face turned very quickly amused just as Tara exclaimed, "Finally!"

I looked at her.

"I was waiting for the old you to come back. You went soft."

I growled. "No I didn't."

"You did," she argued, crossing her arms over her chest like a child.

I glared at her, right through to the bone. I had not gone soft; not even for a second. Have I? No! No I haven't. At least, nothing she would have been able to see or hear had happened that might point her in that direction.

"I'll show you fucking soft in a minute," I grumbled, turning away from her.

"Bite me," she teased.

I was soon glaring at her once more, genuinely considering attacking her. I still hadn't punched a wall...

"Hey, Colbs?"

Colby sounded distracted when he replied; like he was lost in thought. "Hm?"

I turned to him, but he was looking at me already.

"Can I punch Tara instead of the wall?"

He frowned. "You have to ask?"

"Good point." I turned back to Tara with a raised brow, a silent offering. She was smiling at me, barely containing a burst of laughter. That was the difference between me and her: it was all a joke to her, but for me, not so much.