All Damn Day | Post Malone

Chapter 2

~ SOPHIE ~

"So how was the party last night?" Cathy asks. Sophie looks up from where she's sewing bright blue thread through a matching button, and she shrugs her shoulder as she answers the older woman.

"Fine."

"I heard Post won every beer pong game."

"Probably."

"You didn't watch?"

"Do I ever?" She spares Cathy a pointed glance, knowing that Cathy was well aware of her introverted tendencies by now.

"Sophie," Cathy says. It's a reprimand disguised as the letters of her name and she sighs as she realizes what it's leading to. She's already tired of this conversation and it hasn't even started yet.

She hopes her lack of response is enough to ward Cathy off the path they're about to go down for the twentieth time, but by the heavy sigh that sounds from the woman sitting across from her, she knows it's not.

"You need to start being more social," Cathy suggests, and Sophie simply stitches away at the button being held between her fingertips. "That's part of why I wanted to give you this job in the first place—to help you get out of your shell a little bit."

"I like my shell," she states quietly. She's not quite sure if it's true, though. She's used to her shell. She's comfortable in her shell. But she also wishes she didn't need it to feel secure. It's something she was born into, and she's always been too scared to see what walking through the world without it would be like.

Many have tried to pry her out of it— well-meaning teachers, savior complexes masquerading as potential friends, even her parents—but the more people tug on it, the more she draws further into it, and so she's lost more people than she's gained. She understands why—after all, she can't blame people for giving up on lost causes.

"I know you do," the older woman says gently. "But honey, there's a whole world out there beyond it. It'd be a shame for you to miss it."

"I know," she mumbles. She knows her mentor is just trying to help—that's all anyone was ever trying to do—but she wishes she could explain the dichotomy of wanting to change while simultaneously wondering why no one could accept her the way she was.

She's quiet for awhile after that, and she can sense that Cathy has picked up on her shift in mood. She's always quiet, though, so she knows that's not what gives her slightly dispirited mood away. It must be the slightly downcast turn of her lips that does it, considering they're usually formed in a small, content smile.

"You should go out tonight," Cathy suggests enthusiastically. Sophie raises an eyebrow as she glances up at the woman with doubtful eyes. "Meet a cute guy. Go on a date."

She appreciates the effort—both to encourage her and lighten the mood—but the prospect of a night out in LA isn't exactly something she's eager for.

"That sounds like my nightmare, Cathy," she plainly states. Cathy chuckles at the statement, shaking her head as Sophie's own lips twist up in amusement.

"Well how else are you supposed to get some?"

She feels her face heat up at the suggestion, her wide eyes refocusing their attention on the needle and thread in her hands.

"You know I don't do that." She finishes the last stitch before picking up the scissors next to her and chopping off the excess thread.

"Maybe you should."

"What do you mean?"

"I think it would do wonders for your confidence."

Sophie thinks on that for a minute, tasting the idea on her tongue before carefully digesting it, and— strange as it is to admit— she can't help but feel that maybe the older woman is right.