Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

75 - Rebecca

I can't.

Of all the things I expected Colby to say, I can't certainly wasn't one of them. What did that even mean? Why couldn't he? I was furious in barely a second, and the worst part was that I needed him to calm down.

I stared at him, my whole body prepared to kill him if I needed to, which was looking a million times more likely than letting him live. My hand stayed where it was right above his sweatpants, my other hand resting on his neck, but only for a second. I ripped my hands away from him and threw them into the pillow either side of his head, leaning forward over him.

"I can't, Becks. I'm sorry."

Sorry. He had said 'sorry' just as clearly as he'd said 'I can't' again. Sorry. I was almost certain that neither of us had said sorry out loud, or at least we hadn't meant it if we had. We weren't sorry people unless we could express that emotion silently. But here he was, saying 'sorry' for his little saint act. It should have eased my attitude, but it just made it worse.

"That's bullshit," I snapped at him, quiet. "Why?"

He breathed a heavy sigh. "I can't tell you."

"Oh, come on. You absolutely can."

He was silent.

"You have no idea how dead you are, Colby," though I was pretty sure he knew how much I wanted to kill him for this. And with my new suspicions of their abilities — whatever species Colby was — I was almost certain that the others could hear us,
too. I didn't want to face the fact that his friends would know he'd rejected me.

I was too angry; fuming; seething. Just about ready to do some murdering, honestly. And I needed him to make it stop. So I leaned down and kissed him, hoping it'd get rid of how angry I was. It did, for a second, but Colby spoke and all my better attitude slipped through my fingers.

"Rebecca." It was a warning.

"What?"

He flipped us, putting himself on top of me. I was glaring at him now, since he'd moved in a blur to avoid my resistance. His hands stayed in safe places on my side and holding himself up.

"Gonna make me beg?" I snarled at him.

He frowned. "No. Just... don't, for tonight."

I huffed like a moody teenager, crossing my arms over my chest and looking away from him.

"Becks, trust me on this: now isn't a good time."

I didn't reply. What was this sensation in my eyes? So familiar yet so-

Oh hell no. I was not about to cry.

I had to get out of here before I did. I wouldn't let Colby see me crying because of him; because he hadn't slept with me, of all things. I just couldn't stoop that low in my comfort. And so, I huffed again and grabbed my shirt. Colby's eyes were weary, watching me obviously get ready to leave him.

When I stood up, he reached for my hand. "Becks-"

I snapped back at him before he could finish one word. "Don't. Fucking don't."

His hand loosened so I ripped mine out. My stomp wasn't quite as powerful without my clunky boots, but it was effective enough as I headed for his door, tugging the hair tie from my hair. The curls I usually tied back fell down around my face — they added to my frustration like I wanted them to.

Anger was good, because right now, anger meant I was away from Colby. And that was a good thing. I needed that.

He hadn't followed me, which was either good or bad — I couldn't tell and didn't want to think about it enough to figure it out. It seemed everything was quiet in the house besides the pounding thump of the music from the red room. I didn't even go close to it, headed for the backyard. Fresh air with no Colby smell. Fresh air with lots of oxygen to breathe. Fresh air with the slight chance of calming me down.

Like when I had sat out here with Katrina, there were two sunbeds pushed close together next to the pool, one of them holding a blue towel. I didn't have to take any guesses to figure it was Katrina's — she'd wanted to hang out today, which meant she probably wanted to swim. We would have plenty of that tomorrow when I would drive Colby mad with lust, just to get back at him for tonight.

My body felt heavy when I laid down on the empty sunbed. I laid sideways with my legs curled up a little and my head resting restlessly. I didn't want to just sit still there, waiting for some sort of calm that'd never come for as long as Colby was alive. And even if he wasn't, I thought nothing would change.

Right now, I hated more than ever that I needed Colby as much as I did. It was like we had grown extremely close extremely quickly and I had so many emotions and feelings towards him that I didn't want to have ever, let alone yet. The strongest was the feeling of wanting him, but not physically, really. Just wanting him to be there; little touches, getting attention. Being with him. I hated that feeling the most, because it was the most intense when I was mad at him like right now. I wanted the feeling of his fingers between mine like earlier, however, I couldn't use him to calm me down when it was him who I was angry with.

Damn you, Colby. You're making me fall for you.

Okaaaaaay wanted to clear something up. Did it in the comments but gonna leave something here too.

Rebecca is not mad because Colby's not ready. She's mad because she feels generally hurt by rejection as she's not used to it, and she also feels like she deserves answers. After all, he did start something and let it get too far without finishing it, and can barely give her an explanation as to why despite being so openly inhuman around her.

That is what's frustrating her. Since everything she feels turns into anger at this point in the story, that's just what ended up happening. She left the room to get a little bit of air and try to calm herself, knowing that she's being a bit unreasonable.

I realise it's not clear and it looks like she's just pissed off cus he said no when he has every right to do so. So I'm explaining why here.