Spookychild’s writings

Adara’s responses were not usual, and her question amazed Dean. “Of course, we can be friends. I want to be your friend, best friend. But I thought we just decided to call this a date.” He tilted his head to the side, attempting to catch sight of her face. She lifted her head to peer at him, a few tears tumbled out of her eyes, but the crying ceased. He gaped back at her in wonder. “Are you crying? What’s wrong?”
“I thought you were saying goodbye to me.” She responded. “But I’m okay now. Are we still driving someplace for food?” She gave him a small smile.
Dean was still trying to make sense of a discussion he had thought would end with her angry at him but hadn’t. It took him a moment to catch up. “Of course. Yes, I just wanted to make sure you were okay with how we met.” He looked to her for a response.
Adara nodded, “I don’t understand why, but it’s okay.” He wasn’t quite content with the response, but he said no more. Instead, Dean turned and led her to the nearest parked car. It was a dark sports car. But, the color wasn’t visible in the dark. Dean opened the passenger’s side door for her. Accustomed to this type of behavior, Adara got in and let him shut her door.
Adara had never driven in a car beside the limousines and her mother’s Maserati. She had never ridden anywhere without a family member or Marshall. It was an altogether new experience. It was a nice car; clearly, whoever owned it took loving care of it. She wondered about the buttons and lights on the dashboard. Adara wanted to ask Dean about them, but she decided a question wasn’t acceptable. It would make her feel like a child. And she didn’t wish to act like a child. She wanted to be a woman. So instead of questioning Dean about the glow and buttons, she turned to Dean and requested. “Tell me about your vehicle.”

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