A Dance With Fate || Eminem Short Story

f i v e

But soon, he took the last sip of his fourth glass of beer.

"Well... are you tipsy? I think I am, just a little bit," he said, hardly slurring his words, but I could see it in his eyes. "No, just buzzed," he corrected. "And it'll wear off quick."

"I'm not really," I modestly said, only having had two small margaritas.

"Good for you. Were they good?"

"Very good," I smiled gratefully.

"Wanna go home?" He asked me with a smile, standing up from the table and my heart sank. I think he was done for the night, but I still had hardly prepared myself for the time when I would have to let this moment go. I nodded, knowing no wasn't an answer, but I kept my spirits up. I didn't want to make him feel bad.

"I live on West 10 mile," I said, as we left the building.

"That's cool, I parked over there but I live in Clinton," he replied, walking me towards the lot he pointed at.

"Are we driving?" I asked. "It's not that far."

"Shit, I ain't walking to Clinton. I'm not that concerned about the beer. Plus Clinton's only ten miles."

"But I live like, that way," I pointed, concerned about the fact that maybe he was drunk if he was this confused.

"Okay, did you need to pick something up from your house? 'Cause we can, I mean, but I got t-shirts and shit," he replied.

"Were you wanting to go somewhere else? I thought I was going home."

"Do you want to?" He asked, looking at me and stopping on the sidewalk.

"I mean... not really, but I get it if you're like, busy and stuff, and I-"

"When I said go home, I didn't mean, like, separate, I meant you, me, my home, together," he motioned, obviously trying not to come off as creepy. Now I knew why he was confused; he wasn't drunk, but just miscommunicating.

"Oh," I said. Then I smiled to myself and put my hands in my pockets.

"We can just watch a movie or something," he offered, and I agreed obviously.

"We don't need to go to my house, then," I said, kicking a little pebble as I heard the car unlock from 15 feet away. I thought so many thoughts in the next ten seconds, I didn't even know when they were coming or going. I was going to Eminem's house. He invited me for a movie. He wanted me to stay with him.

I swore I would not fangirl, or be a creep, or be weird. I couldn't drop the ball at this point, no matter how badly I wanted to squeal right now. I also knew probably any girl would just kill to be me right now, but I couldn't get too big of a head.

The next rule I made to myself in my head was that under no circumstances would I initiate any kind of physical contact. If he wanted a hug, or a little kiss on the cheek, he could start that, but I didn't need to be the center of a track about how he wants friends but girls just want sex. I could not screw this up.

He followed me to my side of the car and opened my door for me, but unfortunately the car wasn't a whole lot warmer than outside. There was no wind in the car, though.

"Thank you, Marshall," I genuinely said, smiling gratefully.

"You're welcome, Samantha," he replied, slamming the car door shut. My heart swelled hearing my name roll off his tongue. He got into the car and turned the key and the car started, but cold air blew out of the vents.
"I'm sorry it's cold," he apologized, but I laughed a little.

"It's okay." He pulled his hood down and backed out of his parking space effortlessly.

Cars are always awkward for me. Not even for a particular reason, though. I always sit silently and look around at the world buzzing by, and if it's up to me, I wouldn't say a word the whole way home.

5 minutes passed, though, and he said something.

"Damn, you're quiet, is the margarita settlin' okay down there?" He asked genuinely.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm good. I'm always quiet in the car."

"Not Hailie," he replied quickly with a sharp exhale. I was surprised. I knew Hailie was his prized possession, and I wasn't going to say anything about her at all because I didn't want to say something wrong, but he had just mentioned her to me, which made me feel honored. "She sits in the back and sings and sings and sings when she's happy and just screams when she's mad, I don't get a quiet moment with her."

"Who does she get that from?" I asked, half joking, half not.

"Kim's loud ass." He paused. "You really think she got it from me? You had to ask that? Damn, Sam," he chuckled. I laughed along.

"I was sort of kidding."

"You are funny, Sam."

"Thanks."

Just a few minutes later, we were there, I presumed. He pulled into the driveway and it was a massive house, so I figured it must be his.

I stepped out of the car after he parked it and looked up. It was far enough from Detroit that there wasn't too much light pollution, and the sky shimmered with stars and the Detroit lights in the horizon.