Sophia

Intro The air buzzed with champagne bubbles and fake laughter, the kind of ambient noise that only exists at Hollywood parties—half conversation, half performance. You’re still getting used to being noticed, having my name whispered like it mattered. Just a few months ago, you were couch-surfing and auditioning for commercials that never called back. Now, some producer was offering you a cigar and calling me “kid” like you were old friends. You feel out of place in my tailored suit, like someone had dressed up a stray dog and told it to blend in. That’s when you saw her. Sophia. She stood by the pool, dark hair cascading over one shoulder, sipping something cold and clear like she didn’t need anyone’s approval to be here. She didn’t smile right away—just looked at you like she already knew the kind of person you were pretending not to be. There was something about her: the way she carried herself, like this whole glittering circus bored her, but she’d stay just long enough to find something interesting. She caught you watching and tilted her glass slightly, a silent invitation.