Wearing the Shoes that Fit You - Fan Fiction Eminem

Titles

Morena POV

I went with another pair of tighter jeans for this outing. On our first date, I'd noted that Marshall's eyes kept swinging low. He liked my butt and, given how much I liked the flames in his eyes when I caught him looking, I wasn't going to deny either one of us.

I paired it with a simple blouse, knowing that I'd likely keep my light jacket on for much of the day. I could only hope that Marshall's plans involved food. We hadn't touched the dinner he'd brought with him last night and it was nearly noon. That said, now that I knew who he was, I wasn't sure how realistic my thoughts were.

Guilt slipped into my veins as I sat on my couch. Who was I to complain, when Marshall would have had it so much worse? I'd had only a sliver of the experience, having just had notoriety come with the press release and things that followed. No one but those who'd seen the announcement, or the charity work that followed, had any idea who I was. Marshall, on the other hand, was a continuing name and face.

I hadn't recognized him, but that wasn't a surprise. My taste in music could only be described as erratic. I tended toward things with a beat, simply because I preferred those songs for running. One would find the gamut on my phone; I wasn't loyal to any one genre. So, it wasn't a shocker that I hadn't put two and two together. To be honest, I wasn't certain that I'd recognize any of the artists on my playlist. My ignorance couldn't be projected onto the populace, however.

Putting my head in my hands, I let my words from last night and this morning return. What must he have thought?

"Idiot," I murmured.

"Who? Your date?" Tony asked.

I looked up to find him with his arms crossed, his shoulder propped against the doorway. I shook my head, smiling wryly. Jay and Tony had similar personalities. In fact, they were a lot like Greg, whom I missed. It was such a shame that he seemed to dislike me so intensely.

Greg had been reassigned by his company. Jay had said it was best for all, though he had been decidedly tight-lipped about the reasons. Given the last time I saw Greg, I could guess what they were, though. Something about me rubbed Greg the wrong way.

"Morena?" Tony called.

"Do you know who he is, Tony? My date, I mean?" I asked and he nodded, a half-smile quirking his lips.

"Yep," he said. "Recognized him when he came out."

"Yeah," I said on a sigh. "Well, I didn't," I confessed. "And I went and told him that I was cautious around people because of all this," I noted with a whirl of my finger. "He must think I'm such a whiner."

Tony scoffed and stepped forward, plopping down in a chair opposite the couch. He looked around the room before he caught my gaze and shook his head.

"There's literally a T.V. show about what happens to people when they win, Morena," Tony said. "It's never pretty," he noted.

"Maybe that's because the wrong people win," I countered. "If I were different-"

"Knock it off," Tony said. "We've all read your file and we've talked to each other. You're not a whiner and you're not a bitch."

"We know what you've been doing with the money. Instead of some company that will eat away all of the endowment until only one percent of it goes to the people who need it, you've invested and donated. There are people out there with better lives, because of you," Tony continued. "There's not one of us that doesn't respect that, especially when it would be so easy to just walk with all the shit you've gotten as a result."

I nodded and looked at my knees. I didn't know that they had files on me, but I guess it made sense. After all, it would help them to keep me breathing.

"If I'm such an angel, why was Greg so pissed at me?" I asked drily. "I must have done something," I noted and Tony rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You dared to be interested in someone that wasn't him," Tony returned. My eyes widened and he nodded.

"Yep," Tony confirmed. "He was pissed, being pulled from your detail. He wanted to apologize and then spend day after day, convincing you to fall in love with him like he was Kevin Costner or some shit."

"But-" I started to say, only to have Marshall pipe in.

"Good thing that fuck isn't around anymore, then," he said, striding into the room. I looked up at him in surprise as he caught Tony's eye. They had a weird, silent conversation before Tony grinned and stood.

"We'll be ready in the cars outside," he said before he walked out.

"How much of that did you hear?" I asked, looking to where Tony disappeared before I turned to Marshall.

"Enough to get the sense that you're being a chick," he replied.

"Excuse me?" I asked and he shrugged and walked over to me, putting his hands on my hips.

"Doubting yourself, trying to analyze what you think I must be thinking, sound 'bout right?" he asked and I felt the heat rise on my cheeks.

"No," I denied, elongating the word. He cocked a brow at me and I sighed and slumped.

"Yes," I conceded. "I was literally complaining about the little, teeny, tiny bit of what I get when you have it on a world-wide scale. I feel like an asshole."

Marshall's lips quirked as he shook his head and leaned toward my ear. I felt his breath on my neck as he spoke. The reaction it caused was instantaneous, the bumps rising as I tried to control the shiver.

"That's my title," he said.

After his words, he placed his lips on my skin and I might as well be pudding, because my knees no longer had bones in them. I gripped his biceps, tilting my head to give him access as I closed my eyes. I hummed in appreciation when his beard scraped me slightly, the contrast between his mouth and the hair erotic.

"You ready, Na?" he whispered against me and I swallowed, trying to get my vocal cords to function.

"Yeah," I said, my voice huskier than normal. He leaned back and looked in my eyes, his dancing with humor. I narrowed my gaze and poked him in the chest.

"You're a butt," I accused and he chuckled and nodded. He then slipped an arm around my waist as he turned me toward the door.

"Best you get used to that," he noted. I bit my lip, enjoying the lightness that came with his return. I couldn't help but feel good around Marshall.

"So," I said as we made it out the door, "what unpredictable thing are we doing?" Marshall waited for me as I locked it and then put his hand back on my opposite hip. The heat of his palm sank through the material as he walked me to his waiting car. When he opened the door, he cocked his head.

"How are you with heights?"