All Damn Day | Post Malone

Chapter 16

Austin

She's not here.

It's apparent to him once an hour passes and he hasn't seen her yet. It was apparent to him within the first ten minutes of him being here, actually, because he's always late and she never is, at least not that he can remember. But he'd hoped today was a fluke, a coincidence of poor timing, and that it simply meant she wasn't here yet. Maybe she was caught in traffic, maybe she got lost on her way here, maybe there had been some type of natural disaster blocking her path to this place. But as the minutes go by, he loses hope for those scenarios, and has to come to the disappointing–and somewhat troubling–realization that she isn't coming at all.

He looks down at his wrist again, time feeling heavy on it as he pushes up his sleeve to take in the mini ticking clock. It's an odd action for him, and he tries to be as covert as he can so the people around him don't notice. Because for all of the pricey watches he owns, he's never actually used one to check the time, always preferring to show off the diamonds rather than observe the tiny clockface.

But today he can't take his eyes off of it.

He watches the second hand make each rotation, the shorter hand slowly trudging along behind it, and it pulls the minutes forward like they're reluctant to pass. He's reluctant for them to pass too, actually, because every minute that does makes it more and more likely that she won't be here.

And he's pretty sure it's because of him.

There's a chance that it's not, he supposes. Maybe it's something different, something coincidentally unattached to him or anything about him, but he doesn't really believe that. He probably should–his life seems like one big coincidence more often than not, so he definitely believes in them at this point–but something in his gut tells him that she's not here simply because she doesn't want to see him.

And he wants to understand why.

Had it been horrible for her last night? Had that been the real reason she'd been crying? Had she been too kind, too polite to tell him that he'd actually ruined her first time?

His stomach twists at the thought.

"Okay, big smile now!" the photographer shouts, and he's jolted out of his head, where there are hot lights and flashbulbs going off in his face. He doesn't want to smile, but it's not really up to him, so he lets his lips stretch into the mask he's becoming far too used to. It kind of makes him sick how easily he can retrieve it.

He wipes away the sweat gathering on his temples before tossing his hands in his pockets, looking off like there's something interesting in the distance. There isn't, obviously, unless you count aluminum walls and old, exposed rafters. This abandoned soundstage in Culver City is like a hotbox, soaking in the heat from the California sun and concentrating it all like a sauna. The air in here is heavy and humid, and it makes him feel sticky underneath all these layers they've put him in. The mask is oddly unsuffocating though, and he thinks maybe he's getting used to it, which spikes a small dart of fear through him because he doesn't want to get used to being someone he's not.

He lets himself be directed like the mannequin he is, like the mannequin he feels like even when there aren't lights and cameras around. He's directed into poses, Cathy coming over to straighten his tie or steam out a wrinkle from the crisp white suit he's wearing, and every time she does all he can think about is Sophie. She's usually the one that does these things, though he's never paid that much attention before since he's always known exactly where that attention would lead him, and he finds himself wishing she was doing them now. Her hands always flutter over him so gracefully, so elegantly, like the wings of the monarch butterfly currently sitting on his white cowboy hat–which, now that he thinks about it...how in the fuck is that something that's possible? Were they trained? They've been staying exactly where their handler puts them like they're professional models and haven't tried to break free once. Maybe they're drugged.