15. Forgive Me

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Nikki's P.O.V.

I wake up the next morning and there's a naked blonde man sleeping in bed next to me, his arm wrapped tightly around my body.

I immediately sit up, brushing his arm off of me as I facepalm myself. Marshall groans but doesn't wake up.

I facepalm myself again.

I know immediately that I have made a huge mistake by having sex with him last night, and I don't understand how I could fuck up like this.

I mean, technically I know exactly how it happened as all of the flashbacks from last night start rushing into my head, and I could just slap myself.

I was kind of tipsy last night and Marshall for sure was drunk as hell, probably also high on all kinds of drugs, I mean, he for sure looked unstable.

Last night...

He stared at me and I stared back at him.

His usual baby blue eyes looking almost black with rage and his jaw is clenched tight. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his oversized jeans, and it looks to me like his whole body is stiff with anger.

"Did you want something, Marshall?" I ask him sweetly, biting my buttom lip as I look him up and down.

And it's like all of the air deflates out of him all of a sudden.

"Are you gonna fucking let me in or what?" He scoffs.

I shrug, then move to the side, allowing him inside the hotel room.

As he passes me, body brushing against mine, I can just feel his anger radiating from him even if his face is pretty much emotionless right now. I can still see how his mouth is set in a hard thin line.

I close and lock the door behind him, leaning against it, and wondering to myself why is he being so extra for, what, just because I've decided to tell the whole truth after all??

Then, I can hear my own voice from the TV as it is still showing the replay of the interview from earlier, my interview i gave live on 106 & Park. All of the commotion in the audience finally dies down and Free, the host of the show, asks me:

"So, what had made you come forward, Nikki?"

"Well, you see what had happened was that Eminem's manager, Paul Rosenberg had reached out to me. He wanted me to come on here and basically lie on myself, paint myself to be a cheater and all that and confirm Marshall's story." I hear my own voice reply to Free.

I guess at that point, I was really not caring anymore, because I was laying it all out on the table. I had put both Paul and Marshall completely on blast.

Marshall stares at the TV, shakes his head and snatches the remote from the coffee table, shutting the TV off, as if he were at his own house.

"Why'd you do that?" He asks me quietly, without looking at me. "We had a deal!!" He exclaims, much louder now.

"Well, consider it voided now, I guess," I shrug, and I know he can hear the smug smile in my voice.

He turns around to face me then.

"Yo Nikki, you are a motherfucking bitch, for real!!"

"Why, because I won't let y'all buy me?" I shrug.

"Oh my fucking God!!" Marshall exclaims then, holding his forehead in his hands. "You know what, sweetheart, you might think you had fucked me over with that shit you pulled, but guess what, bitch? You had actually fucked yourself over way worse than me. Cause me, imma still be aight. I'm the motherfucking Eminem, baby. Once all this shit dies down, motherfuckers are gonna forget all about this and they are gonna get over this. Just like they about to forget about your ass, Nikki. Cause who the fuck even are you, some bitch I went out with in back high-school? Your 15 minutes are about to run out and Paul ain't about to do shit for you now, as far as your lil Hollywood problem is concerned, so you can kiss that dream goodbye, that's for sure. So tell me something, sweetheart, was it worth it?!" He basically growls out now, staring at me intensely, and I just shrug.

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