Who knew

Without any notice

Looking at Marshall was something I would've never gotten used to. That's what I was foolishly thinking of, watching his face with a deeply focused furrow leaning over his notebook. He was holding a pen in his right hand, bringing it to his lips from time to time in a mindless action, and I could see his eyes scanning the paper intensely. Marshall's body was fully relaxed on his seat in a lazy position, occupying just a little too much space for one person and leaving it unnoticed. There were headphones on his ears so thankfully, he was too busy to spot me observing him so attentively.

I was sitting across from Marshall in a private jet and trying to read a book. Three Eminem's bodyguards a little further from us had their seats with their backs facing me and chatted about something quietly. We were somewhere 6 miles above the ground, and I should have concentrated on anything, except the person in front of me, but was shamelessly failing to do that. I just couldn't get my mind off of the strange morning I had that day. To be completely honest, I wasn't even trying that hard to do so.

After the argument in Marshall's house, I asked for a day off. I really didn't feel that well for some reason and I could only explain it with a lack of sleep I was experiencing. Paul was kind enough to let me stay at home on Monday, convincing me that there was nothing important planned, and I suspected that he heard about the thing that happened between me and Marshall. But obviously, Paul was too delicate and professional to ask, and I was grateful for it.

I wasn't feeling offended, though. It wasn't like that. The more I was replaying Marshall's words about women in his life, the more I was starting to understand him better. Marshall Mathers could say a lot of things in the burst of anger but I knew that the apology was sincere and that what really mattered.

But I needed some time for myself. I still had mixed feelings about the situation. Mostly, because I was very aware of the fact that my reaction and the emotions it evoked in me were not a good sign. I was growing to like Marshall more and more, and it was becoming a problem. I didn't know how to face him again properly and work as nothing had happened. The only thing that was clear for me was that we should have kept as much distance in our interaction as possible to remain professional, and only Lord knew that I wanted the opposite.

So, I asked Paul to tell Marshall not to pick me up on Tuesday and surprisingly, Paul agreed, not even asking about reasons. I went to sleep with a nervous feeling in my chest, not knowing what to expect from the next day and hoping that I would've been lucky enough to avoid any trouble.

However, the morning didn't go as I expected it to. I thought I was having a bad dream when I heard my doorbell ringing loudly through the fog of my sleep at 6 am and tried to ignore it at first. But it was ringing and ringing again, making me groan and get up of my bed with half-closed eyes. Stumbling on my feet, I managed to reach the door and click the lock on it. Rubbing my eyes and yawning a little, I opened the door without any actual thoughts on my mind. But when I saw who was the unwanted early guest on my threshold, I suddenly felt my urge to sleep disappearing quickly.

'Morning, sleepyhead' the visitor's lips formed a familiar playful, even shameless smirk and his eyes began their own game of observing my posture and making me feel uneasy in the bad habit of them. From all of the things, I was least expecting to happen to me that morning was Marshall fucking Mathers standing on my threshold and observing my short set of PJs I had on, sending a red colour straight to my face. I guess I should have called it a good morning. Instead, I knew for sure, that kind of appearance was the exact trouble I was oh so badly trying to avoid.

'What are you doing here?' I asked him bluntly, trying to cope with the confusion inside me. Or what was more accurate, trying to understand what the hell was going on. Marshall chuckled softly in response, and I saw his eyes dropping to my body for the second time, longer than the previous one. The goddamn silky shorts and lacy camisole were no helpers for me that morning.