content warning: discussions of suicide/mental illness
"Ugh, this place is as hot as Connor Frio with a bad case of hypothermia! There's got to be a more popular spot to party tonight."
Amy cocked an eyebrow. It was far from the first time Sophia had found something to complain about as soon as she'd gotten a few drinks deep, and considering the bar was mostly empty on the early evening of a weekday she wasn't exactly wrong. But Sophia's sphere of reference tended to be limited more to whatever had been on Entertainment Tonight in the past week and usually didn't include allusions to esoteric novelists.
"Wait, Connor Frio like the author?"
Sophia scoffed at, what she perceived as, Amy's lack of a thumb on the nation's cultural pulse.
"Yeah, you see that video from his book signing that went viral? Guy's a total frigid bastard."
"No, yeah," Amy said, rolling her eyes, "I get the joke. It's just kind of, like, a cerebral reference for you."
"Bitch, I know how to read."
Not Amy's point, but if she wanted someone who listened to more than half of what she said, she would have invited out literally anyone else.
“Not for long if you keep drinking like that, geez," Amy sighed changing the subject. "How many have you had since we got here?”
“I had a rough day! Get off my back," Sophia snapped, throwing up her hands in indignity. "It’s not my fault you expected to go out with that prude tonight instead.”
Amy would have liked to grill Sophia on what exactly constituted ‘a rough day’ by the standards of an unemployed heiress, but she figured that defending her best friend was more important.
“What just because Jenni’s not a hot mess like you she’s a prude now?”
Amy knew why Sophia said it. Jenni always seemed out of her element when Amy invited her out with her other friends. But maybe that said more about Sophia than Jenni.
“Besides," she continued, swirling the dregs of her drink, "I think her boyfriend gets on her case when she drinks.”
“So she’s a prude and a doormat?” Sophia laughed, taking another drink from her latest bottle. “You're being such a bummer right now. I bet Gala is doing something fun…”
Amy turned back to Sophia, pouting.
“She’s probably like, drinking kombucha and thinking about how much she hates me.” Like Sophia and Amy, Gala was a former attendee of the same snooty Del Sol Valley prep school. While Sophia was a Louisiana native returning home, Amy and Gala had both moved to Twinbrook to break into its budding art scene, and while neither of them were particularly succeeding, Gala was at least better at seeming as if she was.
“I don’t know what I ever did to her!”
“Besides make goo-goo eyes at her boyfriend?”
“How was I supposed to know she’s dating DeAndre freaking Wolfe!? And you know she had it out for me way before that. She just thinks she's better than everyone because she does hot yoga at five in the morning.”
Sophia snorted in a way people might consider unbecoming, if people still had any expectations of her.
“Okay, but you thought you had a chance with DeAndre Wolfe?" she laughed. "And aren’t you seeing someone anyways?”
Amy shifted in her seat. One on one time with Sophia was definitely not one of her better ideas.
“We’re just hooking up." she sighed. "I don’t think he wants anything serious right now.”
There was a pause, and Sophia finished her drink with an uncharacteristically solemn look on her face.
“He’s like thirty. If he doesn’t want anything now, he never will.”
Amy sighed, taking a second to realize Sophia was being serious.
“Thirty-two. And that’s not even that old. It’s coming for you, y’know; you’re not 19 anymore!”
"Ugh, I told you I don't plan on turning thirty."
There was a severity to Sophia's voice that made Amy's stomach twist. Sophia had been joking about dying before thirty since they were both teenagers. At the time it felt like a dangerous, beautiful resolution to live fast and feel young forever, but at twenty-five, it was starting to feel less like something she should be laughing off.
"You'll feel better when you sober up," she offered, making Sophia roll her eyes. She knew it didn't mean much, but what else was there to say? As much as she wanted to help, what could she possibly have to offer Sophia that her years of professional help couldn't? Unable to meet her eyes, Amy turned back to look at the bar as it began to fill with people, noticing a familiar face in the crowd.
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