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

Chapter Fourteen

Hola, brochachos. c: Guess what guys? I have some amazing ass drama planned in the following chapters(; All I'm asking from you guys is to continue being amazing and the bestest fans EVER and voting and commenting and critiquing and just being the greatest fans ever. ;D So thank you all and here we go(;

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I was sitting behind my computer Monday morning, scrolling through dry, boring documents virtually, when Mr. Rizzo strutted to my desk professionally, clearing his throat, and my head snapped up.

"Adrienne, there's a young man here downstairs to see you," he stated.

"Uh, sure, what's his name?" I held my breath, hoping it was anyone but Malik.

"He goes by Dev. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah, yeah. Should I bring him here or can I be back in a little?" I was pushing my luck by even asking for a short break; today had been stressful and bustling for both of us so far. He massaged his temples with his pudgy fingers and sighed reluctantly.

"Alright. Go and come back soon," he warned.

I stood and pushed in my chair, wrapping my scarf that had been draped over the back of my chair around my neck and walked out to the main entrance. The way Dev stood outside was hostile, his shoulders hunched over, and by the bulges in his pockets I could tell his fists were clenched deep inside. His jaw rippled as he heard my heels on the floor and his eyes were hard.

"Dev? What's wrong?"

"How long have you been with him?"

"What?"

"Don't play me, Dri," he nearly growled, reaching behind him and whipping out an article in a celebrity magazine from his back pocket. "How long have you been with him?" Silently, he pointed roughly to a picture of Marshall, hand in mine, our hoods over our heads, half of my face revealed to the world.

"Oh...a while." I thought back, nervous abruptly because of the way Dev was acting. He was seething.

"How long is a while?"

"I don't know, Dev, what the fuck, why are you acting like this?"

"Adrienne, are you fucking kidding me, this is fucking insane! This man isn't sane." He pointed furiously to Marshalll's head, speaking through clenched teeth.

"Is this about Marshall?"

"Oh you call him Marshall? Not Eminem? I see y'all have gotten pretty close for that."

"Dev, calm the fuck down." I gritted my teeth, annoyed, my eyebrows tugged together in a outraged frown. "You came all the way here just to tell me this shit?"

"He's not fucking sane. He's fucked up in the head, why do you think he can't get a girl?"

"Leave him alone, Devon," I yelled firmly to get his attention.

He was shaking now, anger taking over him. I didn't flinch, I wasn't about to back down. "You can't date him. Why didn't you tell me about him?!"

"Because you would have responded like this!" We were starting to get looks from the monitors in the parking lot, but interestingly enough, none did anything about it. They hid and murmured to one another, glancing up from what they were doing now and then.

"He's fucked up, he's going to hurt you," he roared furiously, his chest heaving as he took in lung-fulls of air.

"How the fuck would you know?!"

"I just do! Have you even heard his shit?!"

"I don't need to! This isn't about his shit, this is about him now. Not him then, he's changed, and you don't even know him personally and you're fucking judging him."