Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

114 - Rebecca

The studio was completely locked up when we arrived. Every door from the front to the door leading down the spiral staircase to the storage rooms were all locked. I had a master key that worked on everything but the front door and office. It took a little while to get through the studio, particularly because I paused to examine the designs my employees were working on while they waited for new assignments from me.

Eventually, I opened my office door. Everything looked to be in order, which pleased me more than I wanted to admit. Colby made himself comfortable on my couch while I sifted through the filing cabinet, finding the line that I was going to be presenting at the showcase.

Once I sat down, Colby put his phone away and twisted to look at me as he brushed his fingers through his hair. "What happens at a showcase?" He asked sounding genuinely curious.

"Lots of designers, models, and fashion-world legends gather in one place to show off their wealth or beauty," I replied, distracted.

"Yeah, but what do you do?"

"As a designer?" He nodded. "I have a stand, off to the side from my mom's since she's one of the fashion legends I just mentioned. Models can decide to advertise your clothes; designers can decide to partner up with you; I think fashion legends can decide if they want to help you rise to the top with them. They usually provide both partners and models, so you really want to be recognised by a fashion legend."

"What are you going for?"

I snorted. "You can't just decide who's going to notice you."

"I mean, I can." Colby was smirking, the silver of his eyes expanding as he stared at me. I gave him a look but he didn't stop smiling. My heart skipped a beat, then, and I felt my cheeks heat up. He smiled wider. "You're blushing."

"Fuck off," I snapped.

Colby zipped to the space behind me, placing his palm on my bare shoulder. His fingers squeezed me lightly, his other hand brushing back my hair from my face. He leaned down to place a kiss on my cheek but I pushed him back. "Unless you're going to let that escalate, don't," I warned him without turning around.

There was a beat of silence before my chair was turned around. I didn't meet his gaze. "It bothers me that I hurt you, Rebecca. Don't try to make me feel bad about avoiding that."

"I don't 'try to make you feel bad', I try to get you to get over yourself. There's a bruise or two. So what? It's not like you're beating me up, now is it?" I paused. "Well..."

"Rebecca," Colby warned and I rolled my eyes.

"What?"

"It isn't normal to be hurt, so why do you act like it is? I don't want to hurt you but you never fucking tell me when I am. You make it difficult for me to control myself."

"That's not my problem," I growled at him.

"It is when you're the one I hurt because I get too excited," he snapped back. His hand came up to the side of my face but I moved away from his grip. "I'm not going to fight with you about this because there will only be one outcome. Whether we go at it today or some other fucking time. You're going to tell me when I'm being too rough with you and those bruises are going to disappear entirely. Forever."

"No," I argued, "I can decide how rough I want you to be. If I get bruised in the process, then that's my issue to deal with. Not yours."

"You sound fucking crazy, Rebecca."

"How?" I challenged.

"Because you're sitting there telling me, a dangerous guy, to hurt you. Or to continue hurting you, which is kind of worse. You're acting like... oh, I don't know, every abused woman ever." He moved away from me completely now to go to the couch. His face instantly dropped into his hands.

I clenched my jaw. "I'm not fucking abused, though."

"Think about what would happen if you ever said those things to anyone else, Rebecca. If someone saw a bruise on you and questioned you about it, then you said something like that." I thought about it and could only admit in my mind that he was right. "I'd be sniffed out by cops in a normal situation. Let's not even start on that bite mark on your neck."

"Well, why don't you just get rid of them, then? Like Sam and Katrina do."

"Because I'm trying my fucking hardest to respect your wishes here, Rebecca. It's difficult when you want the wrong things. Like me. Katrina wants a semi-normal life but you're just trying to jump into the supernatural world, and I don't want to be the one who's... dragging you there."

"Dragging me there? The fuck does that mean?" I snapped, holding onto my chair so I wouldn't get up and slap him.

"I don't want to be the guy who pulls you into my world. I don't want anyone to pull you in here. It's fucking horrible. You get hurt nearly every day, and that's not even a human's perspective. I genuinely can't think of how little it would take to break you."

"That doesn't matter," I muttered.

"Yes, it fucking does," he argued, heated. I could tell that this was exactly what I had anticipated this morning after hearing Tara and Colby. I knew he was going to get like this: unreasonably caring about me. No one needed to care about me but me.

With my eyes locked right on his, I practically snarled. "Your blood heals me, in case you fucking forgot. It's not like I'd be hurt for long."

That set him off again.

"This isn't fucking healthy for you. I can't just hurt you, heal you, then pretend everything's okay. Or have you hurt because of me and just move on. I get that you're impossible and you brush everything off, but this isn't something that I'm going to brush off."

"Why are you causing arguments right now?" I finally got to my feet, only to stamp my foot against the floor and drop back into my chair. "Just leave it, Colby. Just fucking leave it. I'm with you, I'm not leaving. I don't care how much I get hurt."

"That's not—" Colby lost his words as he shook his head in exasperation. His hands shifted over to his hair and he kept his face firmly pointed down at the floor. I stared at him blankly, the anger inside me bubbling up the longer I looked at him. That was why I didn't stop.

Eventually, I couldn't help it. I stood up and I walked to him.

And I slammed his shoulders into the back of the couch as hard as my weak human body would let me.