Driven | An Adam Driver Fanfiction

Chapter Fourteen

"Are you serious?" I fold my arms across my chest.

He looks at me with furrowed brows, clearly confused. In his full Star Wars costume, subtract the helmet sitting on the table, he leans against the entry way of the kitchen. It was hard to take him seriously when he was dressed head to toe; he managed to look both menacing in all black but humorous for some reason. "What?"

I feel my face contort from an annoyed expression to the what-do-you-mean-'what?'! look. "Out of all the costumes -- what's his name, J.J,? -- let you choose from, you had to pick this one." I gesture to my body which is only three quarters of the way covered.

This "party" that Adam asked me to go to was a Halloween party. Specifically Star Wars themed. I didn't know this until three days ago, when Adam had forced me to watch all the series to "better prepare myself", whatever that means.

So to say the least, I knew my facts now. And I knew that he chose literally the only Padme costume that was ripped. The only one. I realize I told him I didn't care which one he borrowed but he could've grabbed any other outfit and he grabbed the one that showed my blazingly pale middle off.

"I'm as white as the costume itself, Adam." I desperately wanted to throw a blanket over my body and hide myself. I dress a little conservatively, covering my stomach and making sure everything thing is well below my butt and what little cleavage I have is tucked away. Although, if you'd ever get a chance to speak to Kara on the subject of my style she'd tell you I'm a straight up nun. I could spiral into a full fledged rant on this but you get the jist; I don't expose much and this costume exposed much more than I was used to.

His boots clicked against the tile flooring as he strides across the room to retrieve his helmet. "I think you look fine." He shakes his hair out of his face before putting the helmet on. I figured out soon after I arrived at his house that his helmet alters his voice in something is lower and, frankly, scarier than his usual. "Now, let's go. You've made us late." He scolds in an eerily low complaint. I can't tell if he's joking or not but I quickly follow his lead to his big suburban. "Also, you need to drive because I can't see shit behind this thing."

He tosses me the keys which I of course completely miss catching. "I'm going to apologize on advance if I crash this." I tell him, throwing my purse onto his lap.

"Wait, have you ever driven one of these before?" The panic in his voice makes him appear less fearsome.

"Nope."

* * * * *

He refused to leave my side, standing dangerously close to me for the last two hours. The small perimeter between us and the fact he was himself made me nervous and fluttery. So I made go and talk to his friends, using some lame excuse. However, I have been noticing that he has yet to go beyond a twenty foot radius of me. Every time I caught him glancing at me, a wave of butterfly heat rushed through me and it was becoming unbearable so I waited until he was occupied with someone to steal away to the all-too familiar kitchen of Oscar's home.

The kitchen was currently the busiest part of the house, what with the drinks being in here and it only got more packed as the time ticked on. Fed up with all theses people, I pushed my way through and found a spot on a couch in a lesser populated area. Shoot. I recognized this room. It was the basement I had hidden away in the first time I came to an Oscar Isaac Extravaganza. I tried to make myself look busy by being on my phone so that no one would come an talk to me. It worked for a little while until a brunette in jumble of beige rags sat next to me.

"Hi, I'm Daisy," she introduced in a thick English accent. The hand not holding her red cup slipped into the one not holding my hand and shook it. "Anna Jeanne, right?"

A cock a brow after stealing my hand back from her grasp. "Ye-e-e-a-ah. . . ?

"Fantastic! I've been wishing to speak with you!" She scooted closer despite my obvious confusion.