Wait, what? Me and Eminem?! (An Eminem Fan-Fiction) *Completed*

Chapter Thirty Six

Hey guysss(: I did my best to ready this chapter for all of my Marshall minions and I hope you guys enjoy! I also added an Eminem POV in there for the special fan who requested it(; It starts with Dri's POV, goes to Marshall's, and then back to Dri's for the ending. Please do me a favor and read the hella important author's note at the end of the chapter; a section of it will explain the whole quote shit. Mad props to DetroitMichigan for bearing with me and helping me locate the perfect music venue she could find. I appreciate it and  thanks to all of you again(:

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Him: You ready for tonight? :)

I received that text Friday evening, about a half hour before he would arrive at my residence to give me a ride to the venue he would be performing at. The week of his birthday had blazed by so swiftly, I couldn't even gather that this night was the night he had invited me to his concert. Joy sparking in my stomach, I showered and dressed in the manner Luna had told me of. Since she'd obviously been to far more rap concerts than I had, she ordered that I simply wear jeans and a t-shirt, but I placed my own spin on the outfit by wearing jeans, brown earthy flats, and a baby pink cardigan, the lace of my white camisole protruding from underneath it. I spun my hair into curly ringlets and created a messy, casual, yet sensual-looking bun. After brushing on some eyeshadow and mascara, I was set when a car horn sounded from outside.

Grabbing my typical purse, I jogged to the car, and threw open the door. Marshall was seated there in his worn pair of darker jeans and a heather grey sweater, his hood up over his head, watch strapped onto his wrist, Nikes clad on his feet as they always were. Goosebumps danced on my arms; it was so good to see him after what seemed so long.

"Did I dress too formal?" I inquired breathlessly, dumping my purse onto the seat. Shifting and releasing the steering wheel, he smirked sexily and looked me over from head to toe.

"No, you look beautiful," he chuckled. "And I don't get a hello?"

"Hey," I giggled, scooching into the car seat beside him, our lips colliding in greeting. When we broke apart, I raised an eyebrow questioningly, staring down at my clothing from my own perspective.

"Are you sure?" I wondered.

"I'm positive. And besides, we're going to be late if we stay any longer. I'm sure you don't want to get harassed by the press again."

"Oh, anything but that," I huffed furiously as he started the car up and tapped the GPS screen to locate us to our destination. Expertly, he maneuvered his way along the roads, and I didn't even bother to interrogate him as to where we were going, because he seemed confident enough. Down winding roads and crossing stretched distances between highways, we arrived a while later in front of a local downtown building, who's streets were teeming with individuals arranged in a line. Police officers and security guards were present, moving and assembling the line in the most efficient manner possible. No one in the various lines noticed the suspiciously large, black car that rolled right up to the curb. Before I could utter a sentence and hop out of the car unknowingly, he spoke.

"Wait, Dri, I need to call my manager Paul. Because if we step out like this, we're going to get trampled." Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he began to scroll through what seemed to be his contacts until he stopped on the person he was supposed to refer to in case of advisory, and lifted the phone to his ear. Minutes passed and after discussing a plan to enter the Royal Oak Music Theatre, the name of the venue, he hit a few buttons and set his phone down.

"We need to wait a while," he explained. "They wanna settle people in as much as possible so that our entrance isn't as big. It'll take a little bit. Is that okay?" Sincerely, he connected our eyes, and smiled.