Arrangement for Miseria, Eternity Rain [best black authors TXT] 📗

see. How do we get to Toronto’s?” He asked finally, starting the car and backing out of the lot.
“Back the way we came then take a right, when you pass Darrel Street take a left to Brentwood Street. It’s the third house on the right.” She explained, leaning back to enjoy the ride.


"And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight."


As the Goo goo doll's famous song Iris blared out of her Ipod, Seria began unpacking her bags. After a long argument between Tristan and Toro, she had been bunked with Tristan because of Toro having other guests as well. Sadly, Tristan was the one who pushed for seperate rooms, so she was stuck in the same room with a grumpy fiance.
A loud banging in the hallway was accompanied by the sound of cheerful laughter from some teenage girls who had the room across the hall from her and Tristan. From what she could hear of their conversation, Toro was starting up a big party down stairs.
Pulling a pair of skin tight, worn, light blue jeans that hug low on her hips, with rips and tears on the legs and a long sleeved off the shoulder black, clingy wool sweater, thats bottom stopped midabdomen to show off her olive toned middle. After showering and changing she pulled her long brown hair half back with a silver cresent clasp and slipping big silver hoop earrings in her ears. Smiling she popped in a dangly chain belly ring with a small silver cresent moon at the end.
Putting on a dab of make up that equaled mascara, eyeliner, foundation. Not bothering with shoes or socks she walked out of the room down the stairs, into the modern living room full of teenagers, blaring music, drinks, food, and ran smack dab into Tristans chest.
"My Lord, Seria, what are you-" His words were cut off abruptly as he looked down at her outfit. "Seria, what in God's name are you wearing!"
"Jeans, a sweater, and some party jewelry and make up. Now, I'ma go find Toro and grab a drink. See ya, Tristan." She said dismissivly, walking away before he could reacted. Snatching up a drink from a near by table she melted into the dancing crowd and began to move slowly to the Cajun beat of the music. She was only mildly surprised to feel the warmth of male arms wrapping around her and turning her around so that she was facing someone. Grinning she recognized Toro and they finished the dance together in companionable silence.
After the song ended she felt a tight grasp on her arm as Tristan grabbed her and yanked her up the stairs. Having finished off her drink of 'doctored' soda she was slightly tipsy and giggly so didn't mind, and, when their bodies came in contact on the steps she pressed closer, enjoying the feel of him against her.


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“Seria…Seria, please, you need to stop.” Tristan said shakily, pulling her up the stairs and she nibbled on his ear. “Seria! Seria, it’s me, Tristan, the guy you hate!”
“Mhm…you talk too much….” Mumbling the worlds softly she stopped his accent upstairs and pulled him to the dance floor as the DJ put on Sean Kingston’s - Lonely “Dance with me, Prince….”
Stepping closer to get his arm around her so he could get her upstairs he was unprepared when she dragged him deeper into the throng of people to dance slow and smooth.
Closing his eyes he savored the feel of her body to his, her arms around his neck, his name on her lips. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he could still enjoy it while it did, couldn’t he? No one could blame him if he did, if he pulled her closer, into his arms finally, and kissed her the way she wanted to be kissed. If her carried her to their room and made long slow, lazy love to her all night long. If her told her that he was in love with her, that he needed her to love him too. But she never would, and she would hate him in the morning. So he wouldn’t….
But all the reasoning in the world left him helpless as she turned in her arms and pressed closer, nuzzling his neck with her cute little nose and dancing slowly in bare feet and a cute little belly ring.
Holding her closer with her arms around her he bent and scooped her up, one arm around her waist the other under her knees and carried her up stair, pressing his lips to her temple, smiling softly when she sighed his name. He knew he would regret it, but he had to at least taste her. But there was no possibility of kissing her if they were down there.
Walking into their bedroom he took her to his bed and laid her down, closing the door quietly before returning to her side and kneeling on the floor. Watching her watch him he realized that her emotions were perfectly clear to him now, no steel wall blacking them or holding them back.
“Tristan…what’s love?” She asked softly, rolling onto her side and letting her hair down, watching him still.
“Well, I guess it’s where you care so deeply for someone that you would do anything for them. That your happy when they are, and your there when they need you, or need to be loved.” He whispered, unsure of his answer, but knowing what he felt for her.
“Then I’m right. My father didn’t love me, or my mother. At least not long term for my mother.” She said sadly, her eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t he love us? I mean, I’m not so bad, am I? I always thought I was kinda cool….” She mumbled.
“Maybe he did love you and your mother, just, in a different way. Maybe not the way of a lover and father. But instead, maybe in the way of a friend or passerby? My father talked often of your father, he said your father had a bugs capacity to love, he just directed it on material objects more than people. He didn’t mean to, my father used to say, it was just easier, and objects can’t offer rejection, which your father was afraid of.”
“I wouldn’t have rejected him…” She said softly, tears spilling over and streaking down smooth flawless cheeks in rivulets of pain and sadness. “ I would have loved him, even if he couldn’t love me. I only wanted a father. Someone to teach me to play ball, ride a bike, be there on my birthday, take me to the doctor after my first broken bone, etc. But I didn’t have one. He was never there, not even for Christmas….” Closing her eyes she began to sob softly, leaning on Tristan.
Closing his eyes he rubbed her arms and back comfortingly, trying to calm her enough to get her to sleep. If he didn’t do that soon he was likely to forget that she hated him more than anyone right now, and would despise him if he touched her in anything other than passive friendship.
“Shh…, it’s okay, Seria. I promise you, once you are my bride I will love you, you will never be rejected again….” He murmured into her soft hair. “I’m in love with you, My Little Gypsy Princess.”
Ignoring the warning bells in his head he bent and cupped her face in his palm, pressing his lips to hers softly, kissing her long and slow, savoring the taste, texture, and feel of her, for he knew she wouldn’t want him when they married. And he would never force her, because that would only hurt her, and the love he was sure he could nurture within her heart for him, given the chance. Slipping away he covered her and turned out the light, removing his clothes and shoes he climbed into her bed and slept, mumbling her name repeatedly through the night.


Chapter Four


Seria woke slowly, reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth that enveloped her, to jolst the strong arms that seemed to want to sheild her from everything. As her eyes fluttered open slowly and she yawned she realized that the warmth was the very male pressed against her, and the arms were Tristan's.
Bolting out of the bed and rounding on him she realized she'd not woken him but he was now frowning and reaching for something. Her, she realized a moment later. Watching she glared angrily, cursing him in her mind over and over again. Who did this guy think he was, climbing into her bed and....
And holding you all night while you cried your eyes out and told him things you've never told your own mother,she thought to herself, her memory of last night flooding back in a rush. Gasping she turned and darted into the bathroom and locked the door, quickly undressing and flipping on the shower. What had she been thinking, opening up to him, of all people! Sure he had been sweet and caring, and gentle, and understanding, and lovin-, wait no, what was she thinking? Of course he wasn't loving! He was merely being curtious. Sighing she turned on the bathrooms radio and Gotye began playing as she stepped into the shower.

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Tristan sat on the end of the bed with the covers tangled with his lower body and his head in his hands. What had he done? The kiss had been amazing, and he could never regret it, but now that he had woken with the bed empty and her scent lingering on the pillows and in the room and on him, he knew it had been a mistake. A wonderful, tasty, delightful and amazing mistake, but still a mistake.
Cussing under his breath he stood and let the covers fall away, walking to his side of the room and selecting a pair of black jeans and pulling them on and finding a white tshirt to pull on as well. It wasn't his usual style but it would do for now.
"You know, most people would tell you to brush your hair, but I have to admit, it looks good ruffled."