I woke up Wednesday morning to the sound of glass breaking. I got out of bed, grabbing a jacket and tiptoeing towards my kitchen to see where it had come from. I got all the way to the front door before I realized with a sigh of relief that it was my neighbors window and not mine. My neighborhood is pretty rough, so I'm used to having people break my windows, either trying to rob me or just thinking it's fun.

It was good timing, because if I had slept any longer I would have been late. I headed to the bathroom to shower, grabbing some new clothes on the way. Turning the water on and stepping in, I began shivering. There hadn't been any hot water for a few weeks. I rushed through my morning routine, finding an apple for breakfast and a full water bottle to take with me. I walked out the door towards my car, head bowed against the wind.

I half-jogged down the hall to Mr. Mathers' dressing room, opening the door quietly.

"Good morning Mr. Mathers."

"Why do you call me Mr. Mathers?" Once again, he didn't greet me, just went straight into interrogation.

"I don't know. You're above me, I guess. It's respectful."

"Yeah, no, stop with that shit. Call me Marshall or Eminem or even Em if you want. But I'm not your teacher."

"Um, okay?" I was taken aback. We weren't friends, yet him saying that made it seem like we were. He opened his mouth to speak again.

"If you're gonna be putting all that on my face everyday, I should probably know what it is." I cocked my head, completely confused. What is his deal today?

"What do you mean?"

"Explain it to me. You know what I do, but I don't know anything about what you do. Tell me about the process." I realized he meant the makeup. He wants me to narrate the makeup routine to him. This is a weird day.

"Alright, the general goal is to make your face a blank canvas, even and smooth, and then replace the shadows and highlights so it's as flattering as possible." He nodded, his piercing blue eyes trained on me. I can't tell if he's interested or not, and it's really throwing me off. He kept watching me, so I kept talking.

"It's simple, really. I start with a base, foundation and moisturizer in this instance. Now comes the part you hate- I have to actually touch you." I caught a glimpse of a smile on his face.

"Then concealer, and setting powder because I know you don't like the spray." He shook his head.

"Yeah, bitch used it on me yesterday and it ended up in my mouth every time. That shit tastes awful."

"Did you just refer to Justine as 'bitch'?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah." He shrugged. I burst out laughing.

"I'm never gonna call her Justine again."

"Go back to what you were saying before." I could tell this was Marshall in rare form. He was being kind instead of ignoring me and I can't imagine that happens often.

"After I set it, we contour. Your bone structure is impressive as is, but I like to carve it out a little more for TV. Then highlighter, which I will never stop doing just because I know you hate it. Then you're done. You're free!"

He got up, heading to the door.

"Thanks Addison." Nice- he knows my name.

"You're welcome Marshall."

I got a well deserved break. For about 10 minutes, that is. I walked out for yet another round of touch-ups, and to no ones surprise Justine was standing over Marshall. I wasn't going to let this fly for the second day in a row.

"Justine. I'm going to need you to move." No response. "Move. Now." Still nothing. I looked at Marshall, who just shrugged. Sighing, I stepped between Justine and the table, shouldering her away. I heard her huffing angrily behind me, but I ignored her just as she did me. After a few moments, I turned.

"What do you need, hon?" I asked in a sickly sweet voice. Her jaw dropped and she turned and stalked off. Apparently she was going to choose not to do her job. Whatever. I don't care if she gets herself fired, it'll save me the trouble.

I moved back to face Marshall, catching that elusive smile once more. This time I swear I saw it for a full second.

It was the end of the day, and I was walking out to my car with Caleb, discussing the day. Apparently Oliver had been eliminated, which wasn't exactly devastating.

"One of the others that got eliminated threw a fit, though. I can't remember his name. But I saw him. He took his hat off and threw it on the ground, started screaming at Eminem. That didn't go too well for him. Eminem screamed back, told him he could've made it if he'd dropped the, and I quote, bitch-ass attitude." Caleb told me excitedly. Apparently it was the first truly wild thing that had happened on the show.

"That sounds like Marshall. Did security have to throw him out?"

"Yeah, they pretty much dragged him all the way off the stage, he tried to fight but there wasn't much he could do. But back up, you're on a first name basis with Eminem?"

"I haven't told you? I got assigned to him for the show. He got tired of being called Mr. Mathers, said it made him feel like a teacher."

"That's so cool! What's he like? I have to know." Caleb was smiling brightly. He had this glow about him that always made me happy. Yet for some reason I didn't want him to know anything about Marshall. I wanted to keep everything I knew to myself. Hoard every smile like a chest of gold. It makes me sound crazy, but it was true.

"There's not much to tell. We don't really talk." I kicked myself for lying when I saw Caleb's expression change. He looked disappointed. I opened the door to my car, tossing my phone and bag onto the passenger seat.

"Hey Addison." Caleb said shakily. I turned back towards him, meeting his eyes for only a second before he was kissing me. I kissed back eagerly, my back pressed into the door frame. It was, like everything else about him, perfect.

He pulled back, skimming his thumb across my collarbone and flashing me another pearly white smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow." My breath seemed to be caught in my throat, so I just nodded as I watched him walk away. I sank down into the car, resting my forehead on the steering wheel. I guess that makes things official.