Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

46 - Rebecca

          Knowing that Colby was awake and I wasn't with him hurt, just enough to make sitting in my office at the studio intolerable. So I packed everything up, shoved my project folder into my bag with my laptop, and got up. My phone was in my hand before I knew it, quietly ringing. It hardly had to, though, because Colby answered immediately.

"I'm leaving the studio," I said, throwing my backpack over my shoulder.

"Don't come to the house, go to your apartment."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Tara, Sam, Jake," Colby sighed. "Just... come to your apartment, that's where I am."

"Okay."

That was all the information I needed. I walked out of my office and pulled the door shut behind myself. Something was lingering in the air through the phone, and I couldn't tell what it was.

"Why do I have a feeling you're upset about something?"

"I'm not," he said quickly, which was a lie anyone could see through.

I glared at my phone and started down the hallway. "You're really going to have to get used to the fact that I know when someone's lying, Colby. Because every time you lie to me, I get just that little bit angrier."

"I just don't want to talk about it with you, okay? I don't have to tell you everything."

"Colby..." I warned, choosing my words carefully. To my surprise, I didn't want to fight. "Don't do that. Keep the peace, will you?"

He scoffed. "Like you don't want to fight."

"I don't right now, but I fucking will if I have to. Calm down before I get back or I'll kick you out."

"I need you to calm down," he admitted, which made my heart flutter. I was in the studio room now, passing designers almost too focused on designing to be scared of me. I had to control my reaction as I sighed and chewed on my lip, my head turned away from them.

"Okay, then calm down the moment I am back."

His voice was faint when he replied, "Okay."

I hung up, moving quickly down the stairs and out of the studio. By the time I was pulling up at my apartment building, I had butterflies of anticipation in my stomach. I saw Colby leaning against his car on the parking lot — I had taken mine to the studio rather than his.

I hardly had chance to get out of my car before I was pressed against it, lips on mine. My body responded instantly, my arms circling his neck and my back arcing into him. His one hand rested on my hip whilst the other rested on my waist, ready to move up my body. So I lowered my arms to his chest, and he immediately slid his fingers into my hair with his thumb on my cheek, tugging me closer than should be possible.

When he pulled back, he rested our foreheads together and kept his eyes closed. We spent a few moments just breathing, standing together. And then he spoke. "I've wanted to punch someone for the last half an hour."

I smiled. "You better not have hit any of my neighbours, I'm not planning on getting kicked out."

"I haven't seen any of them," he muttered, lifting his head.

I opened my eyes and watched him as he glanced at the backpack on my shoulder then at my car.

"What did you do at the studio?"

"I organised the new line that I thought of last night and I started digitalising the first line I thought of. I forgot how long it takes so I've only finished one all day." I rolled my eyes. "Got eight and a half more."

"Are you going to do some more today?"

"I wanna finish the one I'm halfway through, yes. And I'm starving. Can you order us some food while I start working?"

"Sure," he breathed and took my hand. He led me towards the apartment building a little faster than necessary. I didn't mind, though, because it was starting to get dark and chilly out here.

We walked into my somehow-colder apartment, and I remembered that I couldn't just stay at Colby's place all the time like I wanted to. I huffed.

"What?" Colby asked, sounding a little annoyed.

"Just thinking about how I have an apartment. You know, how I have to come back every now and then. I don't want to."

"I could just keep coming to you," Colby mumbled with an undertone to his voice. I hardly looked at him as I slumped onto my couch.

"And never sleep in that bed again?" I scoffed. "Never gonna happen, babes." I cringed. "Seriously, why do I call you that?!"

Colby chuckled at me and dropped onto the couch. I noticed my backpack in his hand, but I didn't question it. Sleeping here tonight, I guessed. The thought of my own bed was incredibly underwhelming.

I got to work while Colby flicked through his phone. I hoped he hadn't forgotten to order me food, and for a second I thought he might have, but eventually someone knocked on the door. He kissed my cheek before he went to open it. There was a muffled half-conversation I didn't listen to then a paper bag was set down on the coffee table and the smell of coffee filled the room.

My head snapped at Colby to find him holding a coffee cup, steam rising out of it. He held it out for me and I almost lunged at him. I drank a little bit to find it was Mocha. My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Stalker."

He snorted. "No, I smelt it yesterday."

"You smelt what kind of coffee I had?" I asked in disbelief. "What kind of magical nose do you have?!"

"An accurate one, apparently." He nodded to the paper bag. "Have something to eat, Becks. You can finish your design later."

I rolled my eyes as I leaned forward to peer in the bag. It was good-smelling food, and I was suddenly more starving than before. With my laptop sitting on the coffee table, I pulled the food container onto my lap. It was amazing.

"You know, sometimes I mistaken you for a softie," I teased, pointing my plastic fork at Colby accusingly.

"I'm not a softie."

"Hm, I don't know about that. It's that, or you're buttering me up for some reason." I glanced at his lap and realised that he didn't have any food. "Wait, you don't-"

"Ate before Tara pissed me off," he said, too fast.

I caught the lie anyway. Why did he lie constantly about eating? Did he just not eat — or drink? I had never seen him drink anything but alcohol before, and I'd stolen said alcohol from him before kissing him. I found myself frowning as I ate, contemplating whether or not to bring it up. Little things about Colby didn't make sense — eating being the most noticeable of them.

I looked up and met his eyes. That silver ring had always stood out as unique against anyone other than the rest of his group. He said they were all dangerous. Aside from Katrina, who, when I thought about it, didn't have the silver ring. Was it possible there was a correlation?