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

Chapter Twenty Five

Hello Eminem fans new and old from all around the world! Ready for another installment in our delicious little fan-fic? I'm not going to bore you with a lame ass note at the beginning, but make sure to check out the one at the end!(; For you fans who've been craving a taste of sexual sexualness, here it is. It's not much, but I can promise there will be much, much more, if you know what I mean(;

---

From even before I had opened my eyes Tuesday morning, my phone had been bombarded by relentless calls from no other than my mother. My missed alerts were scattered between recent voicemails and unattended calls. Too irritated by her persistant nature to even give the voicemails a listen, I proceeded to simply delete all of them, and head on to work like it'd never happened.

But the harassment and aggravation didn't stop there. She was fearless enough to continue phoning me, even in my work environment. It got to such a point that Mr. Rizzo was forced to give me a stern eye and requested I turn my phone down to a silent. Humiliated, I cursed her mentally, and did as was told.

After work though, it was a requirement I kept my phone on vibrate, because that was when my personal life for the evening blossomed. Out of the 37 times my phone buzzed, two of them I actually gave a damn about. One was Marshall, and the other was Luna.

Marshall's text asked I come over again, and having no other important plans, I assured him I would after grabbing some quick coffee. Luna near begged I make an effort to reply to Dev's frantic calls and shared some juicy hood gossip that I
listened to half-heartedly.

When I was done with my coffee craving, I steered my car in the direction of Marshall's house and up the steep, grand driveway. He was already at the gate, phone to his ear as he casually paced back and forth. He spotted me and his lips were transformed into a beam as he pushed his finger into the identification placed on the wall, the gates easing open.

By the time I had clambered out of my car and adjusted my hair and work clothes, he had ended the call and sauntered over to me, embracing and gently brushing his lips to mine.

"Hey, Dri," Marshall welcomed.

"Hey, you don't limp anymore, that's great."

"Yeah, it got a lot better. How're you feeling?"

"My mom keeps calling. But I don't want to pick up." As if on cue, again my phone truculently hummed, and outraged, I clicked down to ignore her call.

He studied me in my fuming fury, and then to give me solace, twisted his fingers in mine, swinging our arms in a carefree way as we began towards the house. Instantly, a smile worked onto my lips.

"Don't worry about it. Let's just have some fun together."

"Sounds good," I consented ardorly. He shoved open the house door, and directed us inside. The girls were all together in the kitchen, preparing snacks and once their eyes caught onto us, they dashed over, greeting and socializing with me. After minutes, Marshall and I bid them temporary good-bye, and climbed the staircase, hand in hand.

"How's your music doing?" I brought up as we strode to his bedroom.

"Good," he began eagerly. "I'm done helping Dre, and now I'm just in the studio whenever I feel like it. I work nine to five, like a normal worker would, but I spend some time and take some breaks here and there. Just writing, freestyling. And I hang out with you." Bumping his shouler cheekily against mine, he smirked.

Our foolery went on, and we laid on his mattress as we typically did. For about a half hour, we played around like immature children, but suddenly, he gazed down at me.