We're Almost There

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

"Yeah," Erin said softly, "Lucifer himself."

"Erin White?" asked a new voice.

Tristan and Erin broke away from each other to face this new comer. It was a teenage boy. Tristan remembered him from school. He was tall and had really light brown hair styled in a quiff. His skin was what's called sun-kissed, like he was always trying hard to maintain perfect skin. If so, he wasn't doing all that well, Tristan noticed his face was dotted with some acne. But hey, what teenager doesn't have that problem in the 21st century?

"I'm Kyle. Kyle Mathews. I... um, you know McKenzie Coleman, right?" The boy who was now known as Kyle asked.

"I do," Erin replied, "Why?"

"Well, I uh, saw you w-with her. Just tell her that I said hi. Um, please," Kyle stuttered.

Erin nodded slowly. "Alright. But what are you doing here? Do you live here?"

Kyle shook his head. "No. I'm just picking up my little brother Chance from his friend's place." He held up his car keys as if he needed to prove something.

"Okay. And yeah, I'll be sure to tell Kenzie you said hi," Erin replied.

Kyle smiled and walked past Tristan and Erin.

"Looks like someone's got a crush on your apprehensive," Tristan murmured.

Erin looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you use words like apprehensive ?"

"There is quite a lot you don't know about me, Golden Girl," Tristan said coolly.

"Do you even know what apprehensive means?" Erin questioned.

"Yeah. It means something like a student... right?"

Erin laughed. "No. It doesn't. That's not even close, Diablo."

"I apologize that I'm not as educated as you happen to be," Tristan sarcastically commented, "Now would you get out of my building?"

Erin's face changed to a look of disappointment. "What about Kenzie?" She asked softly.

Tristan rolled his eyes. "She'll wake up eventually, okay? Now get out."

Erin stood straighter and brushed past Tristan, leaving the apartment building.

Erin White had to be the most annoying being Tristan had ever met, and he's lived in hell for centuries so it's rare that someone could place that high on his list. Tristan was almost impressed.

Almost.

That night, Tristan lay down in his bed. He shut his eyes and let sleep take over.

He rarely dreamed, but tonight he did.

He was back in Texas, fifteen years old. The year 1865.

Tristan's dad had just come home, seven hours later than he should've been. The worthless old man was very drunk and not alone. A few of his just as drunk friends were with him.

"Eliot?" A quiet voice rang through the house.

"Wadda ya want Mary?!" His father shouted.

"Shh, you'll wake the children, Eliot." His mother sounded scared. She was such a gentle person and meant no harm. She didn't deserve what she was struggling with.

Tristan always knew he'd turn out like his dad. A washed up, worthless, stupid mistake. He looked just like him, as well. Same pitch black hair, same crystal blue eyes.

He hoped better for his eight year old sister, Amy, who was wide awake in the bed beside his. Tristan knew Amy would be like their mom. She was such a sweet girl. With her pale blonde hair and soft brown eyes, she was the spitting image of Mary James.