Infrunami - Taylor Swift x female OC

Chapter Three

Singing along to Taylor Swift's "You Belong with Me", Camila watches through the passenger side window as the Metropolitan Museum of Art building comes closer into view. Her driver, Ben, has a small smile on his face as he watches her dance in her seat. "Miss Camila? We're about two minutes away." When her mother first hired him as Camilas driver when she was fourteen, he refused to call her anything other than Miss. Lenton. After threatening to call him Benjamin for the rest of all time, he stuck with Miss Camila. He never once called her Mrs. Davis, and she was grateful for that in such a way he would probably never understand.

Her smile falters, and she looks down at the suit she's wearing to once again make sure everything is okay. Her designer put her in an all black suit with a red pocket square, a nod to the theme of tonight. The main part that's making her nervous is her hair, recently cut to a buzz cut after her and her sister decided to support Jasper through his diagnoses in more ways than one. It's not like she regrets it, but the media can say some pretty terrible things about people. "How do I look Ben? I'm nervous." He chuckles, pulling into the line of cars that are dropping off Met Gala attendees as he says, "You look like shit." She huffs, lightly hitting his shoulder. That's always the way they've joked, and Camila threatens to fire him every time. She could never truly bring herself to do it.

"You look beautiful Miss Camila." He tells her, fixing her tie a bit when she turns in her seat to face him. "Really? You're not just saying that because my mother pays your paychecks?" He laughs, patting her on the shoulder before pulling closer to the drop off area. "No...I'm not. You look amazing. Now, go. I feel like a mother dropping off her child for the first day of school." "Well you technically did that through all of my highschool." He huffs playfully, gently nudging her with her arm and watching as she gets out of the car.

Cameras flash around her and voices scream her name, but Camila is still focused on the man as she calls out, "Don't wait up old man! I know you have your grandkids to tend to." "I'm only forty!" "Oh...then why do you offer everyone butterscotch?" She teases, and he narrows his eyes before pulling said candy out of his pocket. "You love butterscotch, kid. Don't test me."

With that, she says her goodbyes and closes the car door, watching as he nods his head reassuringly and then drives away. The athlete takes a deep breath before turning around, plastering a smile on her face as she forces herself not to squint when the camera flashes almost blind her. She makes her way up the steps, taking extra care as to not have a repeat of her last Met Gala.

When the athlete was younger, she used to do interviews or walk on red carpets and speak what was on her mind. When she met Bonnie, the woman was strongly against it. It wasn't like she was saying bad things, but the taiplods spin everything and the girl does have a tendency to blow up at small things. So instead of speaking her mind, she speaks in her mind.

"Camila! Camila! Look over here!" I'm trying asshole. Yall are flashing lights in my face. I can't see you.

"What's with the new hair Camila?!" No. Just no.

"Hey Davis! We heard about your divorce! Does this have something to do with your newest child?!" What the fuck? No. My ex husband is just a bell end.

She has to bite her tongue at the last one, fighting the urge to do something that will end her up on an episode of the true crime documentaries Kaylee likes to watch. What kind of jerk asks if your child is the reason your marriage failed? Someone comes up beside her, placing their hand on her lower back and she's about to turn around and punch them when a voice whispers near her ear, "Don't worry. It's your favorite person." What is Kaylee doing here? She thinks, and then she revists the idea of punching them when she turns to face her ex girlfriend.