Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

100 - Rebecca

I didn't like waking up alone. It left a bad taste in my mouth, and although I knew it was my own doing, I couldn't help but hate Colby for it. He made me need him; want him; breathe him. It was like, when I wasn't with him, the world was wrong. Even in the shower, I couldn't focus on what I was doing because I was picturing his red eyes and wondering what the rest of his change would look like, if there was even any more to it. And then, as I was changing, I was thinking about the things we did; the kissing; the cuddling; the feeling.

I wasn't wearing anything revealing, because I didn't feel like showing off a ton of my body. I just wore a pair of black ripped jeans and a black, cropped cut-off top. There was a slither of midriff on show, but nothing extraordinary.

When I walked out of my bedroom for the first time that morning—closer to midday, really—I found Katrina sitting upright on the couch completely dressed with straightened hair and makeup. My eyes flicked to my vanity, which I noticed was slightly rearranged. Sneaky bitch.

I didn't mention it as I pulled my door harshly shut, announcing my presence without speaking. Katrina jumped and turned her head around, meeting my eyes. She looked tired, though she still smiled at me in her insufferably happy way. "Morning," she greeted before glancing at the time. "More like afternoon."

"Shut it," I grumbled—I didn't have it in me to snap at her. I walked over to the kitchen and glanced in the fridge, but there was nothing worthy inside. There was a trashed paper bag in my trash, though, telling me exactly what Katrina had done for breakfast. "I'm going out," I said quietly, my work backpack already on my shoulder.

Katrina stared me in the eyes fearlessly. "Can I come with you?" She asked.

"Whatever." It sounded softer than I wanted it to. She smiled wider this time, leaping up from the couch.

"Lunch?" She asked, "and then your studio?"

"Whatever," I repeated. She had read my plans perfectly, as if she'd already made them herself. She walked to meet me at the front door. I used my heeled boots to the best of my ability by stomping. My neighbours were no doubt fed up with me by now, but hell did I care. It wasn't my problem that they had ears.

We headed down to my car in silence, walking slightly far apart. I'd opened up about a lot last night—more than Katrina probably realised. I didn't think even my nutcase sister had connected the dots between when I left home and when she tried to drag me to the vampire house. It seemed so obvious now, and so stupid to not be able to see it. She wasn't that dumb...

Next thing I knew, Katrina was playing music using my AUX cord. She didn't look at me as she scrolled through many playlists trying to find the right one—what was currently playing was absolute shit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her click one that said something like 'Gunther Bops' and a similar playlist to the one I'd heard at the pool started to play. It must have been Corey's.

I didn't mind listening to it as I drove. Katrina was humming quietly wherever she could, smiling to herself and moving her head to the beat. If I wasn't me, her movements would be infectious and I would soon be doing the same thing. But I had a lot of self-control at that moment so I didn't do a thing. She didn't mention it, choosing a different option of conversation.

"What have you been designing lately?" She asked, staring out the window.

I didn't look at her when I replied with, "a new line."

"What's it like?" I didn't reply to that one. How could I tell Katrina that I had been designing a line inspired by Katrina without making it obvious? After last night, she would definitely think I was soft, and I didn't want that. She sensed that my silence would last a while, so she sighed. "I'm sorry, I guess I shouldn't be nosy." I hated that she'd apologised. "How about we talk about that other thing—the line you're representing... at a showcase, was it? Seems like a big step."

I glared through the windshield. "Not really," I muttered. If I admitted that, I'd be admitting that I liked designing.

"Oh, come on, it seems like a big step to me! I mean, representing your own line? At a showcase? That sounds like a big event. It's the original one you made, isn't it? With the blacks, blues, reds and purples?"

God, Katrina could talk.

"Yes, it is my original line. And it's not a big deal because my mom and sister are designers as well; it's hardly a new thing to me. I've been to plenty of showcases before. They're shit."

She scoffed. "As if! I bet you'll get lots of attention with a line like that." She paused. "What are you going to wear?"

"Does it matter?" I grumbled.

"Of course it does! You have to make a good impression." I rolled my eyes. "I can help you, if you want. I'm good with hair—Tara is too. And Devyn's amazing at makeup. I bet we—"

"I don't need help," I snapped, "I'm good at both of things, and I just so happen to be able to dress myself."

Katrina went silent for a second, a silent huff in the way she flopped back against her seat. She blew out a breath as if she was calming herself down. I couldn't imagine Katrina being mad at me in the first place. "Can you at least get ready at the house? Then we can all see the finished look."

I scowled. "There's no point in that."

"Please? I know you'll be gorgeous." She was trying to flatter me to get her way, but I wasn't falling for that. I remained silent glaring through the windshield. "I'll get Tara or Colby to ask and then you won't say no."

"I never said no," I muttered without thinking. Katrina looked at me in surprise—technically, I hadn't said no, only that it was a stupid thing to do. I sighed aloud. "Whatever."

Now she smiled. "I can't wait! How long until the showcase?"

"A couple of days," I replied reluctantly. It hadn't sunk in that I had so little time yet.