Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

52 - Rebecca

          My hands flicked at my hair as I tried to pull it loose from the half-up style without ruining any curls. This hair had been through rain, wind, and humidity and it'd never undone, but this new determination inside me had made me into a bit of a perfectionist.

One curl smoothened out a little under my hand, and I grumbled at my own reflection. How am I going to fix that?

I was in a state of deep concentration when my phone buzzed. I jerked, losing my grip. The strand was halfway through the little hair tie and hung now in a 'u' shape. Whoever had texted me was going to die — it was Tara, of course. But before I could even reply to her, she called me. I answered, putting her on speaker as I tried to regain my focus. I hardly heard her voice.

"Hey, Beck. I hear we have plans for tonight," she said, before her volume was turned up ten-fold. "Girls night!" she screamed excitedly.

I cringed.

"All the girls are coming, by the way. Can you send your address to me? Kat and I want to get ready with you."

"What? Hell no, stay over there," I snapped, glaring down at the phone screen.

Tara snorted. "Nuh uh. I'm safely escorting you to the club and back. No argument about it, bitch. Besides, it's just me and Kat."

I was silent.

"Rebeccaaaaaaa. The time is ticking, come on!"

"Fuck off," I growled, hanging up. I sent her my location anyway and shoved the phone across the counter. She replied, though I didn't check it. I pulled out the last couple of strands of hair and threw down the hair tie. I would be ready before Tara and Katrina would even be able to get here, but I supposed that didn't really matter to them. We still had plenty of time, after all.

I walked to my bedroom and stripped off. If either of my friends arrived now, it'd be quite awkward to open the door to them. I slid into my dress, pleased with the way it fit my body tightly, then I put on the shoes and nodded appreciatively at myself.

This was the confident woman I knew, with a little hint of drive in something that wasn't anger.

Buffing my hair out with both hands, I walked to the vanity I rarely even used. I turned on the bright lights surrounding the mirror and cringed for a second, adjusting to the light. When I saw myself, I was still pleased. I felt like it was time for a little change — aside from the eyeshadow I planned on wearing.

My fingers and hands worked on their own, patting silver on my eyelids, replacing the black eyeliner with a thicker line, and repainting my lips in a nude colour just pink enough to look realistic. The extra makeup made me look better, but there was still something that was seriously missing. I didn't know what it was; I didn't have time to find out.

There were some heavy knocks on my front door followed by Tara's loud voice. "Come and let us in, bitch! We're waiting!"

I rolled my eyes as I drifted through my apartment a couple of pleasant inches taller than usual. When I opened the door, I was met by two faces with lips parted and widened eyes.

Katrina was smiling a little whilst Tara had a shocked expression. "Hot damn!" she exclaimed at me.

"Yeah, yeah. You were complaining about being out there. Get in," I snapped, reaching out to drag Katrina inside, since she was the closest. Tara hesitated in the hallway, her expression turned uncertain. "What are you waiting for? Come in, for fuck sake."

She breathed out and walked inside, slamming my door for me. "So where's the magic happening?" she asked as if nothing had happened. Her eyes barely flicked around the room before she drifted towards my bedroom. I followed her, and Katrina followed me.

It was only once we were inside that I remembered Colby's backpack, sitting obviously thrown on the floor. Tara raised her brow.

"I got angry. So what?" I growled, picking it up and throwing it to the other corner.

"At least you aren't cuddling it," she snorted. "Alright, I'm gonna get changed. Katrina, can I help you do your hair when I get out?"

"Of course." Katrina smiled as she sat down on my bed.

Tara disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door in our faces. It was like she lived here. I couldn't be mad.

"Are you leaving your hair down?" Katrina asked, pulling a hairbrush out of her bag.

"Yes."

"It looks great. I love your makeup too." She paused. "Did you know Devyn's a makeup artist? She's amazing. We were going to bring her with us, but Tara didn't want to push it."

"Push it?" I asked, frowning. "The fuck does that mean?"

Katrina shrugged. "Her words." She was lying. I didn't call her on it as I walked over to the bed and sat down.

"You can use the vanity," I said.

Katrina didn't even hesitate as she gracefully drifted across the room and took a seat. She looked different in front of the bright white lights, but still like Katrina. She was quite beautiful, now that I took the time to look at her. She had an older look, somehow, but it didn't make her look bad, only better. I had seen women who looked a lot like Katrina plenty of times before. What set her apart was the bubbly attitude and hazel eyes that held a million emotions, most of them hidden.

It seemed like an impossibly small amount of time later when Tara walked back out, dressed with heavy dark makeup and an elaborate hair do that, on its own, should have taken longer than she'd been gone. She looked great, confident, and pleased with herself. I didn't let how good she looked show on my face, though.

"What d'you think?" she asked Katrina, knowing I wouldn't tell her what I really thought.

Katrina smiled excitedly at Tara, her feelings clear on her face like an open book. "You look amazing!" she exclaimed, then motioned to her hair and the makeup in front of her. "Can you do my hair while I'm working?"

Tara grinned. "Of course."

I didn't feel like sitting here and doing nothing while they got ready — who knew how long Katrina would take — so I stood up and smoothed down my dress. "While you two make yourselves at home," I said harshly, "I'm going to do something productive. Don't trash my fucking room."

"This is your fucking room?" Tara replied.

I rolled my eyes as I walked out, leaving the girls to giggle with each other over the terrible joke.

My laptop sat on the coffee table looking promising, and the new sense of determination was almost impossible to ignore. So I sat down at my couch, leaning forward to work the laptop. This was what I should have been doing all along, I thought, instead of the moping that I was undeniably doing — now that I wasn't I could see that.

I had cried. How pitiful. Never again; not over Colby, not over any other boy, not over anything. Ever. I refused.