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

Chapter Six

Me: Can I pick you up?

She responded back with a yes, and grabbing my drink, phone, and keys, I left the studio, anxious for my first date in the longest time.

Dri's POV:

He was mute as I clambered into the car, pulling the door closed and putting my purse on my lap as I fastened my belt.

"Uh...you look nice..." he approved, nodding his head ever so slightly.

"Oh." I laughed too loud, too nervously. "Thanks."

"Yeah."

"So which Starbucks are we going to?"

"Well, the least ghetto one I know is about 20 minutes away. Is that okay? I figured...you know. Even if it's not that formal, it should be nice."

"Yeah, we can go there."

He made a couple turns, and I watched him all the while. Instinctively, his hand tapped the dial and rap music came bumping on through the speakers. I winced, and I think he noticed my expression before I could hide it, because he tapped it off quickly again.

"Shit. Sorry. Just a reaction." He laughed anxiously.

I chuckled. "It's okay. I do that hella too. It pisses my friends off so much. But it's just what you're normally used to."

He bobbed his head. "Classical music?"

"The only thing I listen to."

He laughed. "How did you get into that?"

"My dad." I was blunt and he glanced at me, sensing hostility. "He taught me to play piano." I giggled, reminiscing all the memories we'd had. "He would come home and put on this old CD. And I still have it and every time I hear it, it just relaxes me."

He was quiet. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry. You asked, so I told you," I mumbled quickly, shrugging and forcing a huge smile to assure him I was okay.

"Alright." He glimpsed over at me again, and his eyes met mine. I was touched by how generous and compassionate he was, something I never thought he'd be. So I smiled and let my arm rest against his as we drove on the freeway towards the light, the sun rays kissing his skin and making it glow, the brightness darting through his dark hair. And I hadn't been happier in a while.

---

"I got our drinks," he whispered to me sharply, his hood over his head as I whipped crumbs off a small, cozy side table by the window.

"Okay. And why are you doing this?"

"I'm a celebrity, remember?" He chuckled sexily as he slid into his seat and I into mine. I blushed stupidly.

"Oh. I knew that."

He cocked his head, gazing at me as I sipped my coffee. I tried to seem sensual, but ever so sensually, I managed to scald my tongue, causing my hand to shake and droplets to fall on my hand. I yelped and he grabbed some napkins, taking my drink from me.

"You alright?"

"Heh. Yes. Sorry," I said meekly.

He smiled in his familiar way, and set my drink down. "It's cool."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and he cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but I jumped to my feet.

"I think I'm going to go the bathroom real quick," I stuttered.

"Oh. Aight."

I grabbed my bag and moved hurriedly. What the fuck was I doing? I knew what I was doing. My plan was to enter the bathroom, sit down, and brainstorm ideas to talk about while I peed. I got in the nearest stall and began my plan.

I'd been sitting on the toilet sheepishly for about 10 minutes and I felt retarded when I got up and walked to the sink, my mind blank, no topics found. I was washing my hands slowly and time-takingly when the door burst open. Marshall stood there, balancing our drinks.

"Dri, the paparazzi found us, we need to go," he called.

I must've looked real attractive as I stood there. "Uh..."

"Come on, we need to go," he repeated calmly. Suddenly, surprised, I grabbed my bag and even more surprisingly, in one swift movement, Marshall lifted his arm and swooped my hood over my head so no one would see my face, then slid his dry, big one in my wet, soapy one, dragging me along.

"Aye! You need to fuckin' move!" He nudged them out of the way and guided me out of the cramped doors before following. I clamped my free hand onto my hood, keeping my face low as we skittered to his car and he threw up a middle finger, letting go off my hand, unlocking the car, and shoving me in gently as possible. He then jogged around to his side and hopped it, locked the car doors, and plopped the drinks in my lap. As he started going reverse, I kept my face low and fitted the drinks in the cup holders.

"Holy. Shit," I breathed, sliding my hood off.

"I'm sorry." He leaned back, panting. "I should've told you something like this could happen before we went out."

"That would have been nice," I laughed. "Holy shit, though. We moved like a fucking army."

"That's how it always is. I'm so used to it. After a point, paparazzi just become so pissy."

"So you give the middle finger?"

"Hell yeah."

"What a lovely picture for the tabloids, eh?"

"Lets others know who's running Detroit," he said firmly, a low hint of a laugh rippling through his throat. I was abruptly attracted to him, staring at his toned, lithe body, his forearms flexing under his clothes as he gripped the wheel.

I couldn't respond. Just look at him and how different he was.

---

"I had a great time." We were back at my door, me in my usual position inside and him outside, hands in pockets.

"Me too."

"Really?" He seemed shocked.

I bent and slid off my heels. "Yeah." I grinned confidently. "I've never experienced something like that. It was fun. And different."

"So I guess then you'd be up for a second date?" He was nervous; it was obvious. But so was I. I giggled and his knotted shoulders loosened.

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

"Good. So I'll text you the details?"

"Whenever is fine."

"Alright. Good night."

"You too."

He gave a smooth little smile and waved. I shut the door. I couldn't help but replay the way his fingers entwined themselves in mine over and over in my head.

---

AND THAT IS CHAPTER SIX. ;DDD  Eh, the writing was so-so, but I like the plot haha. So please vote, message, comment, fan, etc, all that you guys do for me puts a huge smile on my face, I love getting notifications from you guys! c: Pleas keep reading and doing what you do(: -Parisa(;