We're Almost There

3. Don't Get All Fault In Our Stars On Me.

A short while later, Evan dropped Tristan off at his apartment complex. Tristan handed his friend his share of 160 dollars. Then he bounded the stairs up to the fourth floor. Yes, there was an elevator in the building, but Tristan absolutely hated using it. He was born in the 1800's and technology wasn't really his thing.

"Home sweet home," he mumbled, walking inside.

Tristan's place wasn't much. A small living room was to the right when you walked in the door. In there he had two couches, a recliner, and a fireplace. Branching off from that room was a kitchen/dining area. He had an obsidian island in the middle of the kitchen which was pretty sweet, a simple long counter and a table off to the side. A medium sized hallway led from the door to his room and the bathroom.

Tristan walked to his room which was completely black and red. All four walls were pitch black and there was one small window opposite the door. The carpet was a mahogany red. His double bed was pushed to the left wall, made with a black comforter and blood red pillows. He had a black desk under the window and a dresser on the wall across from his bed. If it wasn't obvious, Satan designed the whole place.

Tristan flopped down on his bed for only a second before a loud pounding came at his front door.

With a groan, Tristan pushed himself up from his bed and went to answer the door.

He was greeted by the fuming Erin White. Her wavy blonde hair spilled past her shoulders and her hazel eyes flared with anger. Erin's fists were clenched, her entire body tensed up. She was obviously trying not to lose her temper.

Tristan smugly leaned against the door frame. He looked her up and down in a predatory sense and licked his pale red lips. "Nice to see you, Golden Girl. How may I honour your lovely presence?" Tristan bowed mockingly.

"I'm not here for any of your crap, Diablo," Erin growled. Even so angry, Tristan had to admit she was pretty damn sexy.

"Crap? What are you, seven? Can I get a real swear outta ya?" Tristan said with laughter.

Ignoring his statement, Erin changed the subject. "Kenzie is still unconscious after what you did to her today. It's been hours and I can't get her to wake up."

"Are you saying you need my help?" Tristan mused.

"I'm saying I need to get Kenzie to wake up."

"Just admit it," he urged, "you need me."

"I need you as much as I need lemon juice on a paper cut, Tristan."

The devil put his hands to his stone cold heart. "You wound me, Golden Girl."

"How do I wake up Kenzie?" Erin said slowly.

"Did you try screaming in her ear? Dumping ice cold water on her head? Tossing her off a roof?" Tristan asked.

"God help you," Erin murmured.

"Aw, but if he did that I wouldn't be here to annoy you," Tristan said, barely containing a smile.

"Never mind," the angel said bitterly. She spun around and started to walk away before Tristan grabbed her arm.

"Leaving so soon?"

Erin tried to pull free from Tristan's grasp but he was just too strong.

She didn't say a word. Erin just looked into Tristan's eyes and the only thing he saw was helplessness. One of the bricks that built up Tristan's inner wall which blocked out all weak, stupid, emotions seemed to fall out. Yet he quickly put it back and regained his wit. "What's the matter?" He asked, leaning in so close that Heaven and Hell were nose to nose, "Cat got your tongue?"