Chasing After Shady | 𝐌.𝐌

Chapter 7- A Real Shady Aftermath

One night stand
/ˈˌwən ˌnīt ˈstand/
INFORMAL
a sexual relationship lasting only one night.

The next morning
Ananda's POV

Nothing puts an alert in my body faster than waking up and knowing that I did some questionable shit the night before, but not knowing the exact specifics of what I did. My eyelashes were heavy and stuck together like glue. I felt a body wrapped around me and a thick ray of blinding sunlight to my eyes which immediately set off alarms since I never keep my blinds open.Peeling my eyelids open, I noticed a tattooed arm clinged around my naked boobs causing a flinch. I looked down at myself noticing I was in nothing but my underwear, which we're inside out, in Marshall's bed. We matched eachothers energy as he was in nothing but some boxer briefs but still sound asleep, wrapped in the sheets.

I didn't wanna be rude and wake him up so I decided that I'd see myself out. Slowly moving his arm out of the way, I gently extended my leg onto the tile floor and eventually getting up out of the bed completely. I stepped on something hard and then realised it was my bra... Jesus.

Though a passage of hallways I finally located the bathroom. Staring in the mirror,i quickly put on my bra and saw that my eyes were slightly red, with a thin layered of sweat coating my stringy sexed up hair which smelled of weed and alcohol.. but that wasn't the issue. My clothes I could find. My hair I could wash. It was the unknown that bothered me. How fucked up did we get? I choppily remember the skating rink, weed, the pool then sex. He was all over me..and something about being high while doing it gave it extra ecstasy. Sex alone is like being high— on a looping rollercoaster of physcological passion and bodily pleasure. But everything is different on marijuana. You get hornier than usual. Every sense is sharper than a scythe, which makes the slightest touch feel like bliss, especially down there. I could feel every single bead of sweat exuding off of me. Every hair tug, neck kiss and ass grip. What did I say? Sometimes I tend to say some outlandish shit when I'm about to orgasm. Undeniably, the sex was great.. But why would I put myself in this position?

As soon I could find my purse and heels, I was prepared to do the walk of shame to the nearest subway because I had a feeling what was coming next. Ayo, thanks for sucking my dick but can you like..get the fuck out of my house now? It's time for my other bitch to clock in. Embarrassment wasn't even the word to describe what I was feeling. It's better to just walk off than be some rapper's jumpoff. It's better to go than just be a hoe. Play him before he can even get the chance to play you.. Something I learned from Essence magazine. I also remember the rules to follow after a one night stand:

1.Once the sun rises, get the hell outta there and fast
2 Don't confuse wanting sex with wanting emotional intimacy
3 Don't take anything that isn't yours

Most importantly:

If he isn't interested in taking it further then leave it alone

Rule one was what I planned to do. The rest wasn't even an option... I know my boundaries

"Morning.. " I heard a raspy voice behind me and then saw Marshall's reflection in the bathroom mirror as he reached for his toothbrush. Rule number 1: broken

I stood there and watched as he brushed his teeth, practically burning a hole into him with my eyes. That body. Those tattoos. Blue eyes. He'd gotten dressed in some grey sweats that made that very visible. I mean, he wasn't that bad looking. He caught me staring and returned the favor, I noticed his eyes falling on my chest.

"You need a T-shirt or something?" He offered.

Flustered, I scratched my head. "I can't even find my own clothes."

I followed him back into the bedroom so he can give me a shirt and so I can find the rest of my shit. I saw a suitcase and a duffle bag on his bed. I forgot that he said it was his last few days in New York and then he's going back to Detroit to work on some new music. He tossed me a oversized black and white Enyce shirt out of his bag. I put it on and it made my shorts underneath invisible. With the heels, it looked pretty stylish. Ratchet, but stylish nonetheless. Rule number 3: broken

Picking my phone up off the dresser, I saw a new text message from Nick from about an hour ago:

The boss told me to spread the word that there's a Random creative board meeting at 1:30
Topic is unknown. Guessing it's mandatory so be there.-N

I read it and internally weeped. That meant I literally had less than an hour to get to my apartment and clean myself up, let alone get to Manhattan in shitty New York traffic.

As I finally located and gathered the rest of my stuff, Marshall followed me to the towards the door. The way we mutually rung around mentioning last night was a bit strange, but words weren't needed.

Part of me didn't wanna leave for some reason. I looked at him, stared as we met at the doorframe and wondered if he felt the same but he was unreadable, the way he always is. Last night was the most fun I've had in years, not because of the hookup but because of the liberation of it all. For him, it was probably just some regular night.

I looked down at my legs and saw that his t shirt fit like a dress on me and that it wasn't black, but deep navy blue.It smelled like him too. "Thanks for the t-shirt." I stepped out into the hallway.

Fuck... that was awkward. Why did I say that?

"Yeah. Don't mention it." He had his hands in his pocket and pulled me into a side hug, gripping my waist. "So, I'll see you around?" A smile snuck across my face.

"Yeah, " I nodded.

It was the moment I slightly dreaded the most... the morning and my snapback to reality. I can honestly say that she misjudged this man and felt a little bad about it. Was I sad because she'd been bitch the entire time while he was trying to make me comfortable? Or was I sad because after a wonderful night of disco inferno, waking up in his bed, me and Marshall Mathers probably will never cross paths again? Maybe I can see Eminem perform at the VMAs next year. Maybe Slim Shady will stir up some controversy with the next presidential candidate in the next election year, 2004. But that's no fun. Everyone knows Slim Shady. Everyone loves Eminem. I mean, why would we even need to cross paths in this way again? That's the way Hollywood works. You see and meet people at the annual, regular award shows and never hear from them again because they're too busy being caught up in their music. Their circles. Their shows. Their movie gigs. Was I sprung? No. Never. Especially after some shock value rapper. It was discouraging, but I couldn't let it get the best of me.

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