Chapter 6 Influencers #2
Sage doesn’t know who took these or how they did it.
She doesn’t remember seeing any media types inside Vibe, and the only flashes she saw were from the club strobe lights, and Theo had promised no photos, but it doesn’t matter, because there is a photo—no, photos—and if the way they look absorbed in each other isn’t damning enough, the captions are all too happy to paint a vivid picture.
kaitslunchbox Cough cough publicity stunt cough cough
theosfuturewife This bitch is so transparent like wtf
bluecheesegirlie UGHHHHH he could do so much better whyyyyyy
The door to the greenroom bursts open and Emerson storms in, Anna and Taylor trailing behind her.
“You good?” Emerson asks. Her brow is furrowed, her Cupid’s bow nonexistent with the tight press of her lips.
A detached thought floats through Sage’s mind.
This must be what she looks like in the courtroom.
“Fine,” she lies. She goes to show them her phone, but Emerson waves her off.
“We saw it.”
“It broke mid-panel,” Taylor explains. “I didn’t think anyone would do anything with it.”
“It’s bullshit that she did,” Anna snaps. “That was a pathetic attempt by an influencer trying to get clout.” Sage tries to force her face into something she hopes resembles calm. She can’t really tell if it’s successful; she’s not really aware of her body right now.
“I know.”
“You’ve already said your piece,” Taylor adds. She folds her arms across her chest and shakes her head. “How she even got the chance to ask—”
“It’s fine.” Sage cuts her off, trying to breathe.
It’s not. It’s the furthest thing from fine, and she knows they’re trying to help, but their biting words and vehement support are making her heart race faster, and she just …
She just needs a minute, a minute to—
Her phone buzzes in her hand.
Mom flashes across the screen.
“Jesus,” Sage breathes, a note of hysteria creeping into her tone as she ignores the call.
No one pays her any mind. Anna is saying something about people being jerks and the Internet being a cesspool and other logical statements that should calm Sage down, but she’s too embarrassed to even let the words truly register, too panicked to feel anything but the need to burst out of her skin.
“Sage.”
Theo’s voice cuts through the buzzing in her head like a knife.
She swallows, her knuckles white around her phone as she finds him standing just inside the entrance of the greenroom.
His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders hunched beneath a navy hoodie.
His black ball cap is pulled low on his head and there’s no trace of that easy, joyful look on his face that Sage found herself replaying in her mind last night.
He’s seen the pictures. It’s the only thing that can explain the dread on his face and his haphazardly incognito appearance.
Her phone buzzes in her hand again. Her mother is nothing if not relentless.
She turns the device off entirely.
“I’ll meet you guys back at the hotel, okay?
” she says to her friends, her eyes flicking to Theo.
She expects Emerson to argue, but whatever Emerson sees on Sage’s face must convince her otherwise, because she nods before ushering Anna and Taylor from the room, leaving Sage with a gentle squeeze of her arm.
Sage is vaguely aware of the other authors shooting them looks, their motions slowing as they try to delay their exits, but eventually they’re gone, and it’s just her and Theo.
“I am … so sorry,” Theo starts with a hesitant step toward her.
“For someone to take photos and leak it at an event like that, it’s such a violation of privacy, of trust, and I can’t believe …
” He trails off, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he slowly closes the distance between them.
Up close, Sage can see the red splashed across his cheeks just as clearly as she can hear the agitation in his rambling.
It clips his words and sharpens his rounded vowels, even as he stutters his way through his apology.
He touches a hand just above her elbow. “Christ, I am so sorry. And that woman at the panel. She was so out of line, Sage.”
“Was she? It’s what everyone thinks,” Sage rasps.
His brow furrows beneath the brim of his hat. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” she insists. Her limbs feel weak as she draws her arms around herself, pulling away from Theo’s touch. “It is, because all they have to go off of is my word, my word, and then these pictures appear and it looks like I’m lying, like I’m using you, and—”
She forces herself to take a deep breath, to swallow down the mess of emotions that threatens to burst from her throat before she can think of the consequences.
But her eyes burn, and her voice trembles, and she hates it. She needs to stay calm, to stay rational, so they can think of a plan. So she can fix this.
She has to fix this.
They have to fix this.
“Sage—”
“You’ll say something now, right?” she asks, her teeth digging into the knuckle of her thumb as she shifts her weight between her feet. “I mean this is obviously a huge misunderstanding. I get you can’t control what other people do, but … it’ll help. Right?”
A muscle feathers in Theo’s jaw as he gives his head a small shake. “I tried. As soon as I saw the pictures, I called my manager, but he’s holding firm, and—”
“You can’t be serious.”
Theo blinks.
“Oh my god, you are serious. You’re just going to … what? Leave me to weather this on my own?”
The shaking has disappeared, that tingling in her veins giving way to the frustration she’s been desperately trying to wrangle.
“We never address rumors like this,” he tries to reason, and the earnestness in his gaze is enough to tell her he’s getting started on an explanation she doesn’t want to hear. Because Anna was right:
Sage is nobody. But Theo …
Theo is somebody.
“Of course not,” she retorts. “Such things are beneath you, meanwhile I’m getting fucking dragged out here by your groupies!”
Theo winces. “Look, I know people can be vicious, but I promise you, this is going to pass. They’ll move on to something new next week.”
“You were at that panel! You heard the shit she said. Do you know what this could do to my reputation?”
“They’ll get bored!” he says beseechingly. “Besides, it’s not like the exposure is exactly a bad thing.”
Suddenly, Sage wants to hit something.
“I cannot believe,” she breathes, stepping into his space, “you would even try to pull that bullshit with me. I don’t need some fake romance with you to boost my career, and frankly, I’m offended you would even suggest it.”
For a moment, Theo almost looks hurt, but Sage is too furious to backtrack.
He’d pretended he’d understood. He’d pretended he’d … cared.
Theo forces a steadying breath through his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he explains calmly, like he’s talking down a child having a tantrum. “I just meant that with the virality, it increases your exposure at literally no cost.”
“No cost?” Sage laughs, the sound brittle. “I may not be a fucking celebrity, but I know enough about the Internet to know how this goes. It would cost you nothing to say something, and you know that!”
“If it were up to me—”
Sage cuts him off with another incredulous laugh as she steps away from him, desperate to dispel some of the energy that’s burning beneath her skin.
“Jesus Christ, it’s incredible the lengths you will go to not accept responsibility!
You do realize your manager works for you, right?
Don’t pretend like you don’t hold the power here, Theo. I’m not a fool.”
Theo’s eyes flash, his carefully crafted calm facade beginning to crumble as he narrows his gaze at her.
“You really have me all figured out, don’t you?
” he says, an edge of impatience creeping into his tone.
“Tell me then, has it ever occurred to you that there may be a reason I don’t want my team commenting on this? ”
There’s mockery in his posh accent, and it makes her blood reach a boiling point.
That arrogant son of a bitch.
“I’m sure it has something to do with maintaining your mysterious image,” Sage snaps, her hands clenching at her sides.
Theo barks a sharp, irritated laugh. “Fucking hell, you are impossible.”
She feels the words like a blow.
God, Sage, don’t you ever stop?
She doesn’t.
She never can when she gets this worked up—when she’s backed into a corner and the only way out is to take some of the broken shards inside of her and cut with them.
Words are bubbling up, and she can’t swallow them back.
“I bet your manager planted that rumor about you dating someone weeks ago just to keep you interesting. Anything to keep them obsessed with Hollywood’s Newest It Boy. What am I, just the latest fodder for your news cycle?”
“Why would I even be here if that were the case?” Theo exclaims, his arms flinging wide as he steps toward her. “Why would I subject myself to you bloody yelling at me if I didn’t—”
His jaw clenches as he bites off the rest of his sentence. They’re chest to chest now, and she can feel his heaving as she glares up at him.
“Why are you here, Theo? If you’re just going to leave me to defend myself against the masses, then why—”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cuts her off, and then his hands are on her cheeks and his lips are crashing against hers and …
Oh.
For a single moment, Sage’s mind plays Tetris with their interactions again, slotting them into a new order to help her bridge the gap between them yelling at each other and … this. But then the softness of Theo’s mouth eclipses the data entirely, and her analytical brain promptly shuts down.
The kiss is coaxing but not at all gentle, his lips warm and smooth and …
Sage’s control snaps like a rubber band that’s been stretched too far. Her hands grip the soft fabric of his hoodie as she tugs him impossibly closer, her breath coming in a sharp inhale as they part for air only to dive back in.
She’s never one to sit still, not when there’s a direction ahead of her. And though this isn’t a solution, it’s still a fix. It’s action all the same, a way to displace that frenetic energy inside of her, and her body responds accordingly.
Sage’s breath catches as his tongue swipes against hers and his thumb presses into the pulse point just below the hinge of her jaw.
She opens more for him, her hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in the strands peeking out from beneath his ball cap.
Theo inhales sharply, backing her up until she hits the wall with a soft thud.
The wall is firm against her back, and Theo presses against her, and all the air leaves her lungs, leaving just the taste of him—fresh and fierce—and Sage thinks …
Well, she doesn’t think at all, actually.
Cannot connect to server, 504 error code, etc. etc.
There’s nothing but Theo and his mouth and the way her skin is on fire beneath his hands.
She might just drown in the rush of something molten. It warms her blood and tightens her stomach and sends her heart pounding against her chest.
But then the door to the greenroom opens with a bang, and it’s enough to bring her brain roaring back to life. She shoves Theo off of her, her chest heaving as a group of panelists tumble through in a chorus of raucous laughter.
Theo stands stock-still, his hands raised from where they cupped her cheeks, eyes wide and lips red and slightly swollen. Sage keeps herself pinned against the wall, palms pressing into it to steady herself. Her eyes dart to the panelists, oblivious to what they’ve walked into, then back to Theo.
He takes a step back, his hands lowering slowly before he shoves them into his pockets.
“I—” Sage tries, but someone calls her name—an author she recognizes from some other conference. Sage forces herself off the wall as she waves to her, and it’s enough of a pause for her to take a breath.
Clear her throat.
Steel herself to face Theo.
But when she looks back to him, she’s met with his figure disappearing out the door.
She doesn’t chase him.
She does text him once she’s gotten back to the hotel and had a moment to breathe.
Theo S.
Oct 14 2:36 PM
Are we going to talk about what just happened?
Oct 14 3:58 PM
Theo?
Emerson has some choice words about the whole ordeal, but Sage ignores her as they pack ahead of their early morning flight the next day.
She checks her phone once.
Twice.
Five times.
There’s nothing except a stilted text from her mother in response to Sage promising to call and explain it all tomorrow.
She zips her phone into her backpack to quell the urge to keep opening Theo’s text thread.
It doesn’t help.
So she packs and stews, wonders if Theo is on a plane already, if he’s gone back to LA without saying a word.
And then it’s 7 PM and she and Emerson are waiting on their room service. Sage is trying to change her notification settings on Instagram and …
There’s a post: a screenshot of a note from the Notes app dated two days prior, uploaded to Theo’s Instagram account.
Not that it’s anyone’s business, but I’m not seeing anyone.
Be kind to people on the Internet.
Sage reads it twice, her mind rapidly trying to make sense of what it all means, before her phone dings.
It was a mistake.
Something cold washes over her.
She doesn’t respond.