I'M NOT ADRIFT | Eminem

Flirting Freaks Me Out

Getting to the set, I feel euphoric.
My knuckles still wrapped, I neglect taking the bandage off.
It's a symbol of victory. To me it is.
I'm the director, I'm the boss.
I'm the one people need to listen to.
I don't really care about the position of power I'm in.
That said...
It's exciting knowing that given everything, I still have managed to grasp success.
It keeps me from being a complete pessimist.

Trailers surrounded by set buildings are typical to me.
I film music videos at a consecutive rate of one or two a month.
I'm quite excited to see Marshall for some reason.
It's not like anything particularly exciting is going to happen.
Not yet.
By tomorrow the bruise will have developed over my eye.
I'm curious as to what he'll think about it.
What will he say?
The excitement could kill me.
Huh, the feeling of mania is quite strong today...
I feel a sense of gratefulness with each day I'm self aware.
One day it could disappear.
One day I could snap.
I'm scared of that.

The sets of Aftermath music videos are much more casual than the average. Dre is always on them and everyone moves with the perfect flow.
Dre knows how to hire good people.
He can pin down an authentic and talented worker like it's his life's purpose.
He impresses me at every turn.

I drop my briefcase off at the directors chair and head over to Dre's dressing room. He and Marshall will be early.
Dre's always early as fuck.
He really cares.

I knock on the door of his dressing room, admiring my hands.
Something about the feeling... after... it's special.
I watch the door melt.
It's melting.
Alright.
Oh well.
It happens.

Snap out of it.
"Nisha, come in!" Dre holds the door open.
I give him a blank smile.
I slip inside the trailer. The dressing room.
Bright illuminated mirrors and vanities opposite to a small leather love seat.
Marshall's here.
He sits on the couch, legs spread.
The stance is casual and confident.
One arm sprawled out on the back of the small love seat.

"Ay Nisha, wassup?" He asks, giving me a warm look.
It makes me kind of anxious- or flustered... I don't know.
Things feel different now that I know he is in fact flirting with him and not just being a touchy guy.

"Not much, I'm excited to start filming" I say this with much enthusiasm.
Damn he looks good.
I don't know where the thought is coming from.
Suddenly I find the overly large clothing quite attractive on him.
Maybe I'm in over my head.
I tend to take my emotions too far.

"You're disgusting"
The voice resembles mine.
I know I can't respond out loud.
It sounds like it's real.
I know it's not.
'Shut the fuck up'
Thinking a response to the voice in my head is the best course of action.

I tug down on my cardigan, the grey and black argyle pattern giving a sort of eighties look to my outfit. I've purposely unbuttoned it.
I've got a white cropped tank top underneath.
I don't know if I'm trying to entice Marshall.
I really don't know if I'm particularly into him... but something is obviously happening between us.

I slip onto the couch, opposite to him, looking up at Dre as he takes his seat back at the vanity.
The guys at aftermath aren't ones to cover much up.
They don't care for blemishes or other imperfections, the trailers are pretty much just for changing and privacy before shooting.
However, Marshall wants to dress up as a mother during some point of the video though.... so he'll definitely be using some makeup during the production.
I find it cute that he isn't scared to make a fool of himself.
He doesn't mind being childish or doing something 'emasculating' like cross-dressing.
Something about that is oddly attractive.

Marshall presses his hand onto my shoulder.
I feel heat rush to my cheeks.
He's getting more expressive.
"What's with the hands?"
He asks inquisitively.
His gaze sticks on them as I run my hands over my wrapped knuckles.
I look down at them, giggling softly to myself.

"Nisha boxes" Dre takes his liberties to tell Marshall.
He says this like a proud parent bragging about their child.
Dre will always have that parental air to him when it comes to me.

"No shit?"
Marshall sounds intrigued, voice getting slighting high.
It's shocking information.
It's not the vibe I give off.

"No shit" I smirk.
He cracks a grin, raising an eyebrow.
He's got a nice smile...

"That's... hot" he whispers it, hand massaging my shoulder.
This makes me bite my lip awkwardly.
My eyes widen.
That was forward.
Not to mention with Dre around, it's a bold move.
I hope Dre doesn't pay attention to the compliment.
Kind of hard considering we're only a couple feet from him.

"Damn man, you a fiend" Dre grumbles, chuckling softly.
Marshall purses his lips, shoot Dre a look before returning his gaze to mine.
The flirtatious look on his face makes me feel like crumbling apart.
Jesus I'm feeling the tension...

"Ya cute when you're flustered"
Damn he's taking his chances.
It's as if Dre's not even in the room.
He just awkwardly watches the coquettish teasing, blowing out a tired sigh.
Marshall is definitely a fiend.
A fiend for me... which is oddly intimidating... and attractive...
Fuuuuckkkinng Christ.

-

The flirting was incessant.... ALL DAY.
He took every opportunity. Regardless of who was around.
When we filmed the scene of Marshall in bed with the two generically attractive girls, things got intense.
With the both of them in the bed with him, we recorded the first take of him waking up.
The first girl sits up, to his left.
Kiana.
She strokes his shoulder.
Something about it being business causes me to not care for it at all.
I've had very little experience with the emotion of jealousy.
We aren't really well aquatinted.
I don't have the mental energy for it.

She caresses him excessively, his face, shoulders, chest.
I designed this.
He gets the call from Dre.
He raises a dramatic eyebrow.
Cartoonish smirk spreading on his face as he looks down at the device.

Then the other girl comes up, wrapper her arm around him.
Jenna -TM- the blonde one.
Marshall looks shocked.
Kiana is offended and jealous.
Marshall lifts up his hands, feigning drunken ignorance of the last night's incidences.
Kiana punches Jenna comic book style.
We will later edit the word -KRAK- over head.
It was genius.

All of it went smoothly until Marshall got up and came over to review it.
He slipped behind the large monitors.
His hand came to the small of my back.
He leaned in toward the screen, pretended he didn't do what he did.
My body felt hot as I pressed play on the cut.
After we both finished watching the short clip, he turns to me and gives a dissatisfied look.
"We should re-shoot. You should take Kiana's place"
I think I felt like my stomach might have ripped in half.
I didn't know how to react.
Was it a joke?
Was he being serious?

"Excuse- Excuse me..?"

"You're prettier than her... besides, it's an excuse to get you in bed with me"
His hand rubs up and down as he leans into my face.
I feel his warm breath in my already hot and anxious skin.
I felt panicked in this moment.
I couldn't register how to react.
I could tell he was joking about the second part.
That's a joke.
Yeah.
It's a joke.
Fuck.
I don't really know how to flirt.
I think I remember trying to look up tips on the internet once.
I eventually gave up on trying to learn because people don't really... flirt with me. Sooooo....
Something about dreamy eyes and a coy smirk.
I don't know how to do this without being robotic.
God I really am pathetic....

"You're face is on fire... Do I make you nervous, baby...?"
When all I do is choke out 'Uhm' in response, he simple chuckles lowly, heading back over to the bed abruptly.
Slipping back under the theatrically obnoxious red satin sheets, he acts as if nothings happened.
"Let's do another take"