Static /// Colby Brock

Use somebody (pt. 3)

Colby's POV

After the bickering, if you can even call it that, with Elton, I called up Brennen and Michael. We made plans for that night to go out to a nice, secluded bar. Not a place where we'd have to strain our vocal chords to have a conversation, to put it bluntly. I was in a great need of good company and good drinks. Elton left the house without feeling the need to tell me where he was going which meant I was left alone with my thoughts, Buddy and Circa. They weren't paying me much attention, in fact, they went out in the back yard and didn't even bother looking at me. It was clear they were on Sabrina's side. Not that this was an argument with different sides. Sabrina and I were two sides of a coin which has the same pattern on both sides. We shared the same pain, but coped differently. I hadn't chosen the best coping mechanism, but there was still room for worse things to do, some I'd rather not mention. God, when I looked back on all the fiascoes we came upon while we were building out relationship, I dealt my heart sink down to my stomach. We overcame cheating boyfriends, fake girlfriends, overprotective friends, etc. Maybe putting those things in plural is a bit overboard, but who can blame me? We overcame all that, yet we let our relationship trip and fall over a lie told by said overprotective friend. I honestly see why that tore at our relationship in such a way. He was a person we thought we could trust. One more random thing, I don't think that I've heard the phrase "It's for the best" even nearly as much as I heard it that past week. It was extremely infuriating but I learned a long time ago that breaking stuff isn't gonna help in the slightest. 

I was hanging around in my room until 8 rolled around. I stood up and started digging through my closet for a decent outfit. A pair of black ripped jeans and a white shirt. I ran a hand through my bluish hair, combing it with my fingers. Yeah, I wasn't going for anything special, decent was just enough. The bar wasn't that far away and I was pretty sure it would take me longer if I drove, seeing as how LA traffic sucks ass, so I threw on an old leather jacket, put converse on and left. The breeze in the air was pleasant against my skin, messing up my hair a bit. I felt like my lungs opened up. It was then that I realized how much the house was suffocating me. The atmosphere was dragging me down along with the events of the past week, making me more depressed with each passing day. 

With these thoughts, I made it to the bar and immediately saw Brennen and Michael chatting in one of the booths in the back. Normally, a person wouldn't look in that direction, but since that's the type of booth/table we prefer, my gaze went that way right away. 

- Hey guys! - I said with a half-smile when I made it to their booth - How late am I?

- You're actually on time, we arrived a bit early - Michael told me

- Well, "on time" is technically "late" - I said and took a seat next to Brennen 

- I must have a talk with Sabrina once I see her, I mean, the effect she has on you is unbelievable. You were never this "philosophical" dude before you met her. Seriously, you never questioned anything below the surface. - Brennen said with amazement

- That's because I never wanted someone to question what's below my surface - I said matter-of-factly - The thing is, she didn't question anything, she was curious about what I was hiding and didn't feel the need to ask me about it, she went on a discovering path on her own. That's what interested me most about her. Her "why ask for permission, just take it" attitude was magnetic to me. It's hard to explain unless you know her and pay attention to the way she acts.

I ended my long speech with a shrug.

- See what I mean? - Brennen pointed at me while looking at Michael

- Oh shut up - I waved his hand away

- I think he needs a drink - Michael laughed and motioned for the waiter to come to our booth

- Oh please no! His philosophy gets worse when mixed with alcohol - Brennen complained

Neither I or Michael cared. We ordered our drinks and the night only went up from there.

A few hours later, when Brennen was pass-out drunk, Michael was normally drunk and I was just tipsy, I started realizing that non of the shots were hitting me properly. Like what the heck! I wasn't planning to remember that night the following day and there I was, basically babysitting my light-weight friends.

- Sweet! Chelsea and a few of her friends are headed this way - a large grin stretched on Michael's face.

Chelsea, being Michael's girlfriend, felt as though she always had an open invitation to join any of Michael's get-togethers with friends. That night was no exception.

- You hear that, Brennen? Chelsea is bringing her SINGLE GIRLFRIENDS with her - Michael shook Brennen's shoulder 

- Cool - was all Brennen could say, well, more slur than say, but hey, who was I to judge.

- C'mon, I'm taking you home - I said as I got up from my seat and started helping Brennen out of the booth

- Um, no you're not - I heard Michael protesting behind me - You want to take your mind off Sabrina, no? Well, someone will be here to assist you in just a second. You should take one of those girls home, not Brennen. I mean, I ain't judging if you swing that way.....

- OK, first of all: I'm not gay. Second of all: No one said I wanted to take my mind off Sabrina. Third: I don't need anyone to assist cause the so called "problem" is non-existent. Fourth: Elton would kill me if I took a girl home. - I counted down while still trying to get Brennen to stand up straight.

- Give em a chance now, Colby. For me? - I took a look at him over my shoulder to see his pleading eyes

- I'm giving them 10 minutes - I groaned and put Brennen back down in his seat

- More than enough - Michael gave me a thumbs up to seal the deal 

I rolled my eyes and plopped back down in my seat, rubbing my forehead. I felt a dull pounding in the back of my head and twisted my face in a  pained expression.

- I'll go grab myself a glass of water - I said and got up, heading for the bar.

I honestly didn't feel like going back to the booth. Michael was eating away at my nerves, Brennen couldn't help me and I easily gave in so I had no one to blame other than me and my stupidity. After two glasses of ice cold water, I somehow got the courage to return to the booth which I found a lot more crowded than before. There was a group of 4 girls around the table. I was fuming. I was really hoping they would cancel plans at the last possible second, but no.

- Hey Colby, told you it would be worth sticking around - Michael winked at me

At that, two of the girls turned their heads to face me. The sight of one of them I felt the breath catch in my throat. I froze. That smile. That smile seemed so familiar but so out of place on that girl's face. The eyes, the hair, nothing matched. And when she spoke I realized, neither did the voice.

- Hi, I'm Phoebe - she outstretched her hand in my direction - Chelsea's friend

If I wasn't convinced before, her long hot pink nails assured me I was seeing things. I took my hand in mine unwillingly.

- I'm Colby - I said, looking fack up at her face, at her smile.

I felt comforted by it, so drawn to it. However, I couldn't get over the fact that I was seeing someone else in front of me.

The rest of the night is a blur. All I remember is a lot more drinks, taking Brennen home and getting Phoebe's number. The morning after, I woke up with the realization that the pounding at the back of my head had grown stronger. I cringed as I sat up and rubbed my face. I noticed the digits written on the back of my hand and cringed even more. I really didn't want to call her or text her but something was forcing me to do so. I was mad at myself, mad that I was falling in love with an illusion my brain was creating instead of actually falling in love with the girl. I know when something's fake and that certainly was. It wasn't love, it was a coping mechanic. Something to help me ease my mind. Take it off the real problem. By running away from one, I run straight into another. It's a mess, I'm a mess, and I'm afraid I can't sort it out. Not alone.