I'M NOT ADRIFT | Eminem

The first thing Nate sees is my eye.
He's shocked by the appearance.
Otherwise normal, I present a fractured image of something abnormal.
"Woah..." he whispers this, maybe trying not to rude. He doesn't ask about it but Marshall knows he's thinking about it.

"Yeah I know, I look like I got my shit handed to me"
I decide to joke about it.
May as well desensitize it.
When Dre sees it, he'll probably just ask, 'onto faces now?'

"This is the director yo, she works close wit' Dre and she's fucking dope. She boxes."
The two words, she boxes, help to explain everything to him.
His face relaxes slowly. 

Getting up from the small couch, and putting his small gaming thing away.
Game Boy or something.
He chuckles softly, eyes going from me, Marshall and the floor repeatedly.
Bashful.
"Aight, that explains it" he states in a cheeky tone.
He reaches his open hand out.
I take it, grip confident, giving him a warm smile.

"Nisha" I tell him, realizing Marshall didn't give my name.
He nods, shoving his hands into the confines of his bright red sweats.

"Nate"
He tells me his name strictly because it's customary, though I'm sure we both know that I'm aware what his name is.

"Nice to meet you, little man. Your brother's a pain in my ass"
I give out to a satirical grin, watching Marshall form a face of false offense.

Marshall takes his liberties, landing a teasing smack on my ass to counter.
He smirks, feeling victorious.
I try to cover up how it shocks me.
My face rises with subtle heat.
I shoot him a look that embodies the phrase, 'boy, fuck you'.

Nate finds my statement hilarious, bringing his fist to his face to cover his wide smile, giggles falling out involuntarily.
"He try hitting on you yet?"
Oh yeah.
He's been hitting on me.
How would I describe the dynamic between me and Marshall to Nate?
Better not.
Better to lie.

"Man of course, you're brother's a relentless player"
Nate nods with the familiarity but Marshall doesn't seem to agree, frowning only for me to see.
He looks hurt.
Oh shit.
What have I done?
I'd hoped he'd understand I was keeping it light for his brother, but maybe he wanted me to be truthful?
I don't fucking know.

"I ain't playing you" He purses his lips, eyes narrowing at me.
His voice sounded genuinely disappointed.
I don't know what he hoped I would say?
I was just joking around.
Tension starts to fill my lungs.
He thinks I'm disrespecting him.
I'm ruining his reputation with his brother.
Why did I open my mouth?
I should of let him slide past Nate's question.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Ok, maybe I'm overreacting.
I always do this.
Fuck.
Fuck.

"Yeah right" Nate laughs, lightening the moment, making it easier to push past whatever got into Marshall's head.
More specifically, my head.
Maybe his look of sadness or maybe hurt feelings was a facade.
Maybe I conjured it.
I don't fucking know.

"Pssh- Man, whatever" He looks off, biting his lip, as if refraining from saying something.
Fuck man... I feel bad.
I'll apologize later.
I'd assume he knows I don't think of him that way...
Though being fully honest... Marshall kind of strikes me as insecure.

"Don't get all butt hurt, you know it's true"

"Boy, what you know about my love life?"
I take this chance to intervene with a joke.

"Oh come on, you guys are practically twins, you got the whole Dr. Seuss thing going"
I refer to their matching clothes, reminding me of twin children whose parents make them dress in matching clothes.
I never got the concept of that.
Not only are they twins, but you've got em' dressing the same?
How the fuck are people supposed to tell them apart?
Furthermore, those kids definitely develop identity issues later in life.

"Man, what's that supposed to mean?" Marshall asks with a chuckle, knowing damn well what I'm referring to.
The tension feels as if it's lifted... maybe just for now.
He crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow, grinning at me.

"Y'all looking like Thing One and Thing Two! I though Halloween was in October"
I think it's formulated, but I still feel as if I pull it off.
I hope they find it more funny than corny.

"Bitch-" Marshall attempts to purse his lips, trying to pull a straight face though failing horribly.
He cracks a smile before making a goofy pose, hands on his hips. "I think we look dope matchin'"
Nate just giggles childishly at him, crossing his arms over his chest, posture the one of an awkward teenager.

"Well you gotta get changed, cause we're filming in forty minutes" I fire back, holding up my right wrist, the one with the watch and pretending to check the time.

"Get off my ass" He spits with a low chuckle.
I wonder if at some point during any of this situation does Nate think to himself, 'Hmm, there's probably something going on between them...'

"Get off your ass? Man, I should be on it more! Now anyways, I gotta go do director stuff, it was nice meeting you Nate, try an' talk some sense into your brother for me?"
I pat him on the shoulder like older people do to young people for some reason and I head for the door of the trailer.

"His goofy ass is a lost cause!"
Nate seems to be enjoying the opportunity to rip on his brother.
We all enjoy doing that every once in a while.
It feels dope.

Well, meeting his brother went... good.
I think Nate likes me.
I think Marshall's upset with me.
This is terrifying to me.
I don't want him mad at me.
I really didn't mean the whole player thing.
It was just a joke.
I don't know who I'm trying to justify this to?
My mind?
My mind knows my intentions.
Oh well...
Marshall might not even mention it at all.
I blow things out of proportion in my head.

The world feels like it's disappearing.
Everything I look at swells and shrinks, walls dissolve like sand.
I feel that high.
That feeling of floating.
That feeling of disconnect.
I want to escape from my body...

***

After filming all day, I noticed something starkly different from yesterday.
Marshall felt cold and distant.
I was starting to think it wasn't just in my head.
He really does hate me.
He doesn't want anything to do with me anymore.
I've ruined it all.

...Not quite.

When I was making my way to my car, I felt a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
I turned around and to zero shock, it was Marshall.
For a second I thought it was a hallucination. One created by a mind who desperately wanted to have things between me and Marshall end good.
Well, I'm lucky.
Cause his touch is real.

"Yo, are you free tonight?" His voice is low and hushed.
I look into his emotionless eyes, hoping to find something relieving.
I don't know if I find what I'm looking for...

"Uh- Yeah..."
I don't do much with my spare time other than read or come up with ideas for passion projects.
I've got lots of free time after work ends.

"Good, you coming to dinner with me, I wanna talk wit' ya"
Oh fuck.

I nod slowly, aware of his grasp on my wrist.
Where is this going to lead.
I'm scared.
I'm loosing it a little.
I don't want him mad at me.
I wish I could just come out and say sorry cause I feel so bad.
That would be awkward.
Damn, I'm really driving myself up a wall here!

He drags me through the parking lot.
Not literally but you know.
Well, I guess we're taking his car...