Black Power |An Interracial Eminem Fanfiction|

~Eight~

{Get ready for some Ajala and Marshall action! As ZoeTheHalfrican said in the last chapter, I totally ship them too}

Ajala practically jumped inside of Marshall's 1979 red Lincoln, grateful for his existence. Marshall got in soon afterwards, slamming the door hard and quickly. He turned on the car, it coming to life slowly before Ajala's eyes.

"Aight, if you're going anywhere with me, you taking that fuggin' outfit off right now." He said, motioning toward Ajala's monstrosity of an outfit. She almost did not want to speak, her mind filled with strangeness.

She was supposed to hate him, right? Ajala-Leigh pushed the feelings aside and focused on him as a person, something she'd never done with a white person before.

"I-I don't have any other clothes-" As soon as the words spilled out of her mouth, Marshall already had an oversized dark gray hooded jacket and a pair of light jeans.

"You're lucky, these are Ronnie's. He's gonna kill me when he finds out I gave you the shlit he left back here." Ajala laughed and Marshall looked at her with a strange glimmer in his eyes that he noticed.

She walked behind the car and crouched down. She peeled off the arm gloves, top and tutu. Leaving on her shoes, she shoved her legs through the spacey jeans and her bra only bodice into the jacket, zipping it up to finish off the look.

When she came back, Marshall let her in and smiled.

"Now you look good. Aight, let's go."  He said as they drove away. He struck up a conversation as quickly as they drove off.

"Why'd you even show up at his party knowing all that whore was gonna do was dance wit DeShaun." He spat, clearly angered for Ajala. She still felt overly hurt about it.

"I don't know. I-I thought she'd maybe hook me up with someone. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be the only boyfriendless senior?" She inquired and Marshall chuckled.

"Yeah, I feel you. DeShaun be getting all the chicks and I'm stuck with some fifteen year old." He said, in a sarcastic tone. Ajala giggled and Marshal pushed her in her arm.

"It just sometimes feels like you're just misunder-"

"-Stood." Marshall finished. It stunned her and she got quiet. 

"I thought I was the only one." Ajala admitted softly, staring out of the slightly dirty window.

They had pulled up to this restaurant surrounded by crumbling buildings and freshly graffitied walls. It stood out amongst everything else; the neon outside trim giving it a cool feel while the logo underneath the brick canopy made it feel modern.

"You're never the only one, Aj." Marshall said and it also shocked her how he knew her name. He got out as Ajala got out at the same time.

"Don't look at anyone, don't make any faces, don't do shlit. We in the motherfuggin' 'hood." Marshall said threateningly and it scared her a little bit.

Once he noticed her expression, his countenance softened and he came up behind her, squeezing her waist.

"I'm just playin', yo. It's an old diner." He said and she calmed down.

And the faint, loving squeeze around her waist felt amazing as well...