Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

50 - Rebecca

          The inside of the cafe was quite empty when I walked in, a flood of students being the only ones who were there besides Katrina, who sat at a table with a mug to her lips.

She was staring out the back window, oblivious to my presence. I walked up and sat down, scraping my chair. She glanced at me for a second before putting down her mug, leaving her fingers through the handle, rendering it useless. "Hey," she said softly.

"Hi." I didn't quite match her tone.

"So, I know the topics that I need to avoid, but I'd like to ask you about the designing thing. Is that... are you gonna get mad at that?"

I stared at her for a moment then sipped my coffee. If the rest of the liquid tasted like that, I didn't think I'd be mad at anything for a while now. "No."

"Thank god," she breathed.

I gave her a look and she blushed.

"Sorry."

I just shook my head.

"So, what have you been designing? Like, do you have lines or just single pieces?"

"Lines," I answered.

"Multiple? Can you tell me about one of them? Then I can stop asking questions and just listen..."

"Whatever." I drank a little more, letting the caffeine sink in. "They're mostly dark dresses — blacks, reds, blues, some purples. And there aren't many that go beneath mid-thigh. I've only designed what I know I like." I paused for a second, hesitating. "I designed a whole new line in the red room at your house." I couldn't help but scowl a little towards the end.

"What was the line like?"

"Red, for the most part. Tops with lace, two-pieces, cut-out dresses. That sort of concept."

"Ooo, I like the sound of that," she exclaimed, leaning forwards on the table. "I love blue the most, though. Have you got any blue designs?"

"Not entirely. I have black and blue, but nothing that's just blue."

"Maybe you could design something for me," Katrina said, smiling softly at me. She motioned to her outfit — a white button-up shirt tucked into her pants, left open to reveal a bralette underneath and a pair of light blue jeans.

"Maybe. It's doubtful; as I said, I only design what I like. Your style is too light for me." I ate some of the panini on my plate but it wasn't nearly as good as the coffee. I wrinkled my nose. "Besides, I don't think I'm going to do many more designs yet."

"Too much on your plate?"

For a second, I thought she meant literally.

"I get it," she continued, and I realised what she meant. "Right now, I'm wrapped up in so much at the house. Uh..." She trailed off, her cheeks turning pink.

"Don't mention him and you can go ahead," I told her. I didn't feel like talking anymore and I had a sneaking suspicion that Katrina was a great talker. So I dug into the bad panini and sipped while she spoke.

"Well, I'm trying to manage being the only... normal person. So I'm trying to do the dishes when I eat, keep the house clean, make sure I don't get myself hurt. It's all a lot. And at the same time, I'm sort of looking after Sam. It's kind of hard to explain to someone who doesn't know the secret. Just know that it can be... disorienting sometimes. And dealing with all of their crap is exhausting. I'm so glad I sleep most of the night and escape it because I would go mad otherwise.

"You know, if you ever want to come over — during the day, I mean — I'd love to hang out by our pool with you. I really need to do some tanning and I miss girls' day in the pool."

I looked at Katrina for a second as if she was a wild animal. Couldn't she understand that anything to do with that house now revolted me? That even being here with her — as different to him as she was — reminded me that he existed? And of the giant hole left in my chest?

Never mind dealing with their shit, that feeling of emptiness was exhausting.

Katrina saw my answer before I said it. "No way in hell. I never wanna see your house again."

She bit her lip, looking down at her almost-untouched panini. She was silent and I still didn't feel like talking, so we spent a little bit of time eating and drinking. It didn't feel the same with her. Co-existing just wasn't how Katrina worked and it showed. She looked awkward, which made me feel awkward. I hated feeling awkward.

I just had to talk. "Tara won't be awake until this evening, will she?" I asked, uncomfortably spinning my mug on the tabletop.

Katrina shook her head. "She normally wakes up late afternoon, but she doesn't get up until Jake gets up and he's always one of the last," she explained.

"How long will it take her to get ready?"

"To go clubbing? Longer than usual. We haven't been clubbing in..." Katrina blew out a breath, her lips parted as if she had no idea. "It's been a very long time. She should take longer than two hours."

"As long as she comes out and we get there before we have to pay, I don't care." I poured the rest of my coffee down my throat and rolled my head around on my shoulders. It didn't help the tension building, but that didn't matter. "I don't really know clubs."

"Tara does. She'll take us to the best one if I ask her. I'll text you the address when she tells me where."

I just nodded.

"I know you don't want me to say this but... are you okay?"

I glared at her. "I'm fine."

"It's okay if you aren't, Becky. I know things were intense with you two."

"You don't know anything," I growled, gripping onto the table.

Katrina flinched and scooted back in her chair.

"Don't bring it up again."

"Okay, I won't. I honestly just wanted to check on you."

"Well, don't." I didn't need checking up on by someone I didn't even know... who was I kidding? Of course I did. But Katrina wasn't my first or second choice.