Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

99 - Katrina

"Sam was so embarrassed. I swear he turned red even though he can't blush—that'll get annoying, by the way. Everyone can tell when you blush from smell and sight, but theirs is just hidden. It's frustrating," I continued to explain what felt like an eternity later.

Rebecca's sudden interest in listening to me talk was coming from one place and one place only: fear. I'd first seen it when I climbed into the car with her, seeing her glaring at the steering wheel through the window. She was so damn terrified and I could only guess it was because of what'd happened... but not for the reason anyone else would be upset. She hardly admitted that we were friends, let alone that she cared for anyone, and with Colby, it was so much more than just caring for him.

When I started to explain the story of Sam and I, she looked to be listening but after a while, she started thinking. We were in her living room by then, so we were sat at opposite ends of her couch with our legs crossed and cushions in our laps, coffee in mugs on the table. It took me a little while as I was explaining everything to realise she was drawing comparisons to her own relationship—there were a lot.

Sam and I had fallen in love fast, and everything from the intensity of our relationship at the start to the rapid feelings matched with Rebecca's. Though, she and Colby were more intense—everyone knew that by the looks on their faces when they saw each other. They didn't realise it, I was sure, but Colby in particular was visibly in deep every time she walked in the room.

Neither of them had really cared for anyone in a really long time and all that pent up energy had to have some effect on them now. I believed it made them more intense than the rest of us. Besides, they were both driven on anger, which seemed to push their relationship to the edge constantly. Yet Colby had still decided now was the time for abstinence.

I knew that part of the reason Sam and I's story was so similar to Colby and Rebecca's was because I was Sam's One, and Rebecca was Colby's One. He could try to ignore it as much as he wanted; he could ignore Sam as much as he wanted, but he would figure it out eventually and he wouldn't be able to deny it then. It was so obvious to everyone, even Mike, who'd disliked the thought of adding another human to the group. He wasn't too pleased Rebecca was in the house to start with when her crazy sister decided to slash her arm—I got the run-down from Sam since he could hear everything.

We were all just waiting for Colby to realise it for himself now.

I'd purposely left that part out of my explanation of vampires. That was Colby's to explain to Rebecca and if she heard any of that right now, she might just go mad; she was on the edge just with the revelation that she cared for him, let alone that she was made for him and he was made for her. Or maybe she realised she'd loved him, I didn't know. I didn't want to ask.

Hours had passed and my voice was getting strained now. Rebecca looked tired, her body leaning against the back of couch, which she hadn't done before. She hadn't even noticed that I wasn't talking yet. I imagined her thinking about Colby at that moment, completely entranced by him. I'd caught him gazing at her like she was some sort of revelation or miracle so many times that I knew what to look for in both of them now.

I spoke a little louder than I had been to get her attention. "Can I ask you about your sister?" I asked softly. Rebecca didn't look at me, but she wasn't thinking anymore either. I took that as a reluctant yes. "What's the history between you two?"

Rebecca scoffed. "History? There's hardly any fucking history. Shitty sister who made too many mistakes, that's all."

I frowned. "What kind of mistakes?"

"Bad ones."

"Becky, I don't want to force you to tell me but I'm really curious."

Rebecca was silent for a few seconds staring at her coffee mug, which had long since been empty by now. I thought I could see the cogs turning in her head; the decision being made whether to let me in or not. When she looked up at me instead, I realised she'd already made that decision and was trying to piece together her story.