Driven | An Adam Driver Fanfiction

Chapter Five

My hands smooth out the white shirt over my stomach. I take in my clothes as I stare into my full-length mirror, a gift from Kara. She said that I should know what I look like before I leave the house. I took that as a not so subtle hint that I look like trash every time I go out.

"Is this okay?" I ask for what seems like the thousandth time. My constant necessity for reassurance on everything gets annoying, I know, but I need to be one hundred percent sure one something before I do anything. This especially. If I was going to a party with a super hot guy that only semi appeals to me, then I was going to look like a gosh darn model.

Kara, laying on her back with her head hanging of the end, all of her hair flowing down to the floor, takes time away from her phone to glance at me. "Ooh, it's nice. Makes you look less pale and your boobs bigger. I vote yes."

I roll my eyes. She always finds the opportunity to make fun of my  B cup breasts. "The jeans? They're not too--"

"Jay," she cuts me off, "it's a party. He even told you its casual. What's more casual than jeans?" I nod in agreement though I keep questioning if I'll be under dressed in my head. It doesn't matter. I'm going to be standing next to an actor, someone who's literally built their career off their attractiveness, so regardless of my clothing choice, I'll look like a peasant in comparison.

I was so focused on pinning some strands of hair back into my loose bun that I jumped a little when Kara spoke. "So when are you leaving?"

I think back to the text Oscar sent to me. "He's coming to pick me up at nine." My eyes move to the alarm clock reflecting from my night stand to my mirror. I've got forty-five minutes. "Why?"

Kara flips to a sitting position and flips her hair behind her shoulder. She not wearing makeup and her hair in it's naturally super wavy state yet she put all my efforts into looking nice to shame. The Cade family has always been a relatively stunning family, so you can imagine my frustration when I moved here and realized that the tan skin and dark eyes skipped over my mother's genes entirely, thus giving me a fragile and doll-like appearance.

"I've got a few friends coming over. Is that okay?" She questions.

I'm not sure why she's asking me, even if I say no she's going to bring them over anyway. That's how Kara works: you tell her one thing and she'll go and do the opposite. I love the girl with all of my heart, but she gets me so angry when she does stuff like that.

"What's your mom doing tonight? Did you ask her?" I already knew the answer to the first question and immediately regret entering the tender subject.

"She's pulling another two dayer shift." Kara's brown eyes turn down to the soft, peachy pink bed spread and picks at it with her fingers. "I haven't asked her. She's always so busy and I didn't want to. . ." She doesn't finish her sentence.

I search for words to say but come up with much same old speech I give. "She's an anesthesiologist, Kara. And a single mom. Both of them are tough jobs on their own but together. . . She does it for you, Kara. She loves you and just wants to give you a good life." I'm disgusted at the sap flowing out of my mouth. I never get sentimental like this. It made my stomach was flip. Smooshy, heartfelt talks aren't my thing. Nothing smooshy or heartfelt really is if I'm honest but when it comes to Kara I'd do anything to make her happy. Her mom was rarely home to see her, and when she was home she slept the majority of the time, and her dad left when she was three. Granted, I never get to see my parents, either, but that's only because they started to travel the world as soon as graduated high school and moved out to New York for college.

"I know." She sighs and continues to pick at my blankets.

Come on, Anna Jeanne. What's the worst that could happen? Just a few friends. . .