Wearing the Shoes that Fit You - Fan Fiction Eminem

Anyway

Morena POV

The man who'd stopped me was so insistent and earnest, his blue eyes so concerned when he thought that Greg was going to hurt me. He'd pulled his car over, halting whatever he had going on in his life, just because he was worried. It had caught me unaware and frankly made my evening. It had been nearly a year since I'd had someone who cared without me having to pay them for it; without me having to give them something in return. The feeling was so unfamiliar now, but it brightened the night air around us as I looked at the man who'd been so selfless. 

"What's your name?" I asked, looking at him curiously. I had a feeling I'd seen him driving in and out of the gated community before. His eyes captured me, ringing distant bells of recognition. 

"Marshall," he said, though it was after a hesitation. It was slight, but I caught it. Over the past several months, I'd gotten a lot better at picking up on smaller cues from people. I'd needed to. 

"I'm Morena," I said, reaching out my hand. When his enveloped mine, it was warm and just slightly calloused. Like his concern, it made me happy. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have assumed," he explained with a gesture over my shoulder to Greg. I waved him off, smiling again as I tried to reassure him. 

"I don't know of anyone on the Earth who would fault you for trying to help," I noted. My face wasn't used to smiling any more. I wasn't grinning, but I could still feel the strain on the unused muscles. 

Marshall put his hands in his pockets and looked to the ground, giving me another opportunity to evaluate him. He was in jeans and sneakers with a hoodie, but I saw a glimmer of a gold chain at his neck. His wrist held a larger watch. He was casual, but not unkempt. His beard was trimmed and his hair cut close, where I could see it around his hat. He was cute and, though it might have been his attempt to keep me safe, I felt oddly protected around him. 

"You live in the gated community, don't you?" I asked, hazarding a guess that my memory was right. His eyes lifted up as he nodded and cleared his throat. 

"Yeah," he replied. He looked about ready to say something else, but then hesitated once more. Taking it as a sign, I spoke. 

"Thank you again, Marshall," I said while I stepped slightly away. I didn't want to keep him from his evening. "You have no idea how nice it was to meet you," I continued. 

As I started to move, I felt his hand grasp mine again. I looked down at it, surprised. He'd grabbed my hand earlier, when he tried to warn me. I hadn't thought as much about it because I was trying to understand what he was talking about. Now, however, I felt the slightly rough skin near his fingers on his left hand as it heated an imprint on my skin. 

"Wait," he said. He looked at me and then seemed to shake his head slightly. "Are you almost done with your run?" he asked. 

I blinked. I was sweaty from my circuit, in spandex, and without make up. He was insane, if he was asking me out while I looked like this. 

"Almost," I admitted. "I live just down the road," I explained, gesturing. Marshall's eyes flicked where I pointed before settling back on me. They were an interesting, intense blue that I couldn't seem to look away from. 

"Would you want to grab a coffee?" he asked, tilting his head at me. 

Thousands of butterflies erupted from their chrysalis in my stomach on his words. I blushed and bit the inside of my cheek as I strove not to grin. I failed miserably, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to relax when I smiled at him.  

"I would," I said softly. I looked down at myself and grimaced, though. 

"But," I noted, "I should get cleaned up first, if you don't mind?" I ended the last part on a question. It had been a long time since someone had asked me out and I was nervous already. 

"Yeah," he said, his lips quirking. "Give me your number and I'll text you," he said, pulling out his device to hand it to me. "When you're all set, give me a call."

I took the black phone from his hand after he opened the screen and I put in my number. Regardless of what he texted me, I'd know it was him. The only people who had my contact information were my guards and my financial team. The unknown number would be a dead giveaway. 

When I was done entering my number, I smiled at him again. I'd done more of that in the last ten minutes than I had in months. It was nice, feeling like this - feeling normal. 

"I'll head back and shower," I said, putting my thumb over my shoulder. "I should text you in a little over half an hour," I guessed. 

He nodded and flicked his eyes to Greg. I twisted my lips. After all the threats, I'd gotten so used to an escort, I forgot that most people didn't have someone traipse along behind them, waiting to exercise their right hook. 

"I can give him the night off," I offered. I didn't want my chance at normal human activity to go up in smoke. Marshall looked at me with a shake of his head. 

"No," he said. "If you have him, it's for a reason," I grimaced and nodded, my eyes falling to the emblem on Marshall's hoodie. 

"Yeah," I said softly. 

"Hey," he said, his voice turning a little raspy as it deepened. I looked back up and he shook his head. "It's fine," he promised and then his lips quirked. "Who knows? Maybe we can make a game of it," he teased. I gave him a doubtful look in response. 

"Make a game out of having a body guard?" I asked, my tone clearly suggesting he was off his rocker. Marshall nodded, a devilish grin taking over. 

"Oh, yeah," he said. "Trust me," he said. "There's a way." 

I found myself chuckling at his words. Again, it was something that I'd done so little of for so long that the action was rusty, as if I'd forgotten how to laugh. Although the idea of romance was nice, I knew that if nothing else, I had to go with Marshall tonight simply because of what he'd been able to do in just a short time. 

There was something about Marshall that reminded me of who I used to be, before everything spiraled out of control. I missed that woman - the one who was confident and happy, who didn't question every motive, who wasn't locked away in a shell of distrust. If Marshall was able to pull pieces of her out in just minutes, what could he do if I'd spent more time with him? 

I had to find out. Maybe, he'd been wrong in thinking Greg was going to hurt me. But, maybe, he would save me anyway.