Eminem Fan Fiction Shorts II

Marshall's Call

"Word on the street is that you were seen getting pretty close to Sarah Wilding." I looked at Dre, who was drinking his coffee like a damn meme, an innocent expression on his face.

"She came to the party." I replied with a shrug. Dre had been on the other side of the country, so he hadn't been there. He set his mug down and gave me a look before he spoke.

"There were a lot of women there. You weren't seen snuggling up to anyone but Sarah." He argued.

"I know." I said, running a hand over my jaw. "I can't explain it." I told him, thinking about her.

"Man, you got more words than you know what to do with. Give it a shot." Dre responded and I sighed.

"She forgave me for the shit I pulled." I said quietly. "Like a damn saint, she just looked at me and effectively told me to let it go. I was standing there, waiting for her to rail at me or curse at me or something, and she just touched my face and told me she forgave me." I continued.

"She's beautiful, man. Time has been good to her. But it wasn't just outside. Her eyes are kind. She's still Sarah; only now, I think I actually see her." I finished and Dre nodded.

"The way she was talked about by everyone but you, it sounded like she was something else." He commented and I grimaced.

"Yeah, well. Forget the shit I said. All of it was based on the ramblings of a madman who was too caught up in a woman who didn't want him but didn't want him with anyone else." I responded dryly and he chuckled.

"Well, so now that you see her, what are you going to do about it?" He asked.

"I'm going to try to get her to see me."

---

It took me three weeks to call Sarah.

At first, the problem was that I didn't have her number. I needed to go through Denaun, which took fucking forever because I had to do it in person or he'd be an ass. Getting us in the same room wasn't easy these days, our schedules were such shit, so that took up the first week.

When I finally met up with him, he told me that she'd changed her number now that she was back in Detroit and that he'd need to track it down. He'd promised to get right back to me. Another week passed before he finally sent it to me.

The third week was taken up with my uncertainty. I'm shit with dating, love, romance - you name it:  if it has to do with feelings and a woman, I've probably fucked it up at least six different ways over the years. That in mind, I wasn't sure how to approach this. Although Sarah had told me she'd forgiven me a long time ago, as far as I was concerned, I just got her back in my life. Taking things the direction I wanted to posed the very real risk that things would go to shit and I'd lose her again.

Ultimately, I decided that I'd already been a moron when it came to her once and that it had cost me dearly. While screwing up again might send her out of my life for good, not trying would be just as idiotic. I couldn't spend my life in fear of the what-ifs. So, it was with a big breath and a shake of the head that I dialed her number.

"Hello?" She answered, her voice calm but a little firm, like she were expecting to talk to a telemarketer.

"Hey, Sarah." I said and I heard the moment she realized it was me. Her breath sucked in and then she spoke, her voice a hundred times warmer than it had been when she answered.

"Marshall," she said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She asked and I paused. I should probably lead into this a little, but I felt like I'd already lost so much time.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go get a drink or something." I asked baldly, swallowing around my anxiety as I did.

"Sure," she said and I sagged in relief. She hadn't hesitated. "Where are you and the guys meeting?" Fucking cock. She thought I was inviting her to hang with the crew.

"Uh, we're not." I responded. "I mean, the guys can't make it. It would be just the two of us." I continued, running a hand over the back of my neck.

"Oh," she said and I had no fucking clue what that meant. She paused for a second, killing me with the silence that followed, and then spoke again. "So, where and when?" She asked and I smiled.

"There's a place across from where the party was that has all the packages, if you're still into sports?" I asked and she was quick to answer this time.

"Hell, yeah I'm still into sports. Um," she paused against as I heard movement in the background. "How about I meet you there in an hour? We'd have time to get a spot before the game starts." She offered.

"I'll see you then." I responded and hung up. I let out a huge breath, the nerves that had taken hold of me easing only slightly. I'd gotten her to agree come. Now, I just had to figure out how to get her to stay.

---

Fifty minutes after my call with Sarah, I was sitting at a table in a smaller sports bar, tucked in between a couple of clubs. This place was a bit of a hold out to modern entertainment. It had a rustic feel and a laid back atmosphere that reminded you of just about any small town bar in America. It was perfect because it was busy enough to keep things moving, but not so loud that Sarah and I wouldn't be able to hear each other.

I was tapping my thigh, facing the doorway but looking at a screen across the way, when I felt Sarah's presence. I looked up to see that she'd come in a pair of tight fitting jeans and a black sweater, which fit nicely across her breasts and had my fingers twitching. Her hair was a riot of curls that framed her face, making her appear tousled.  She looked delicious. 

"Hey, Marshall." She said quietly, looking around to catch the server's attention.  A beefy dude who looked like he spent the hours not behind the bar in front of a wall of mirrors checking his form gave her a nod and walked over.

"What can I get you, sweetheart?" He asked and I had a flash of irritation, but I tamped it as Sarah ignored the endearment and ordered her drink. When he left, she turned back to me with a smile.

"You okay, Marshall?" She asked, concern leeching across her face. I shook my head, realizing I was fucking staring, and took a drink before I responded.

"Sorry, Sarah. Lot on my mind." I answered and she narrowed her eyes at me.

"You're not still trying to apologize, are you?" She asked. I shook my head, a half smile tilting at my lips.

"Nah." I answered.

She looked about to speak, but she stopped as the server placed her drink in front of her. She gave him a nod and I slipped my hand across the table to grab hers before she moved it away, threading my fingers into hers. She didn't move away. Instead, she looked up into my eyes, searching them. When I didn't look away or move my hand, she chuckled and winked.

"Alright."