Chapter 5 Imposters #3
And yet they can, and do, and then she’s left wondering if it’s her fault for not having thick enough skin, or falling short of some milestone, some thing, that would have changed their minds.
It’s only gotten worse now that she has thousands of eyes on her.
But she’s not sure how to put all of that into words—and even if she could, she’s not ready to spill all of it on Theo. So instead, she reaches for something concrete.
“I had a shitty business dinner,” she confesses on an exhale.
Her pointer finger is tapping a steady rhythm on the side of her glass as Emerson, back with Fuchsia Suit, laughs heartily.
“I just … spiraled from there, I guess. It’s like …
sometimes, the voices are louder than others.
Sometimes I can block them out, but sometimes they seep through at the worst time and all I hear is you’re an imposter, you’re an imposter. ”
There’s something about carving your heart from your chest and putting it on the page for all to read that can eviscerate even the most well-trained confidence. Her old armor isn’t strong enough, but she hasn’t had time to patch it.
She’s not even sure if she can.
“And I hate even complaining about it,” Sage continues, “because I’m doing what I love and so many people would kill to be in my shoes, but I guess … sometimes … well, sometimes I think I believe them.”
Theo makes a sound in the back of his throat, not wounded, but something of the sort.
Something raw and understanding and just beyond what words can capture.
She turns to find him watching her steadily, the corners of his mouth turned down in a not-quite-frown, but something serious and stoic and seen.
He sighs and rests back against the couch, wetting his lips.
“My brother was an incredible actor,” Theo says, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
The was hits Sage like a punch to the solar plexus.
Even with the noise surrounding them, she can hear the way grief roughens his smooth voice as he continues.
“He was truly brilliant, in a way that I knew I would always be compared to him. It’s typical with siblings, I think, fame or no. ”
Sage thinks of Noah—of their parents. Of the comparisons and passive aggressive comments and competition neither of them signed up for.
“It used to weigh on me,” he continues, his gaze solemn as it finds hers.
“But not like …” He pauses and drags in a long breath.
“It’s so much worse now. Because there’s always that X factor for people—that unknown variable of what he could have been.
They’re not just comparing me to what he was, but to his potential.
Some finish line we never got to see. In some ways, it motivates me, I suppose.
Drives me to do right by him. But in others … ”
He trails off with a shake of his head.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” Sage breathes. And because there’s no use in hiding that she knows—more importantly, because she means it—she adds, “And your mom.”
He blinks. Clears his throat.
“Christ, that was maudlin.” He laughs, a sardonic smile taking over his features. He leans forward and braces his elbows on his thighs, drink dangling from his fingertips in the space between. “Sorry. I just meant … I get it. The imposter thing.”
Sage’s brow furrows as she takes him in. His grief has been shuttered away, but there are more words building behind her teeth, words that Sage isn’t sure she’s earned the right to say given how little she knows him.
She says them anyway.
“You deserve to carve your own path. Not that you aren’t doing that. I just mean … You should be seen as your own person. Not a shadow of his success, or potential.”
Something twists in her chest, but Theo smiles faintly, strands of hair brushing across his forehead as he cocks his head. He presses his knee more firmly against hers. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Collins.”
“Well,” she says with a light shrug, wishing desperately she could stop the flush she knows is flooding her face, “I am known for being exceedingly kind.”
“Yes, of course,” he replies gravely. “Especially to lowly men trying to catch your attention on transcontinental flights.”
Sage has redirected her own fair share of conversations to know what Theo is trying to achieve. This time she lets him. The tension breaks as Sage scoffs. “Who talks to people on planes?!”
Theo points at himself. “Hello.”
“Yeah, well, you’re weird. And I was hungover.”
The light catches the white of his smile as he tilts his head back and laughs. “I knew it!”
She shakes her head, but she can’t hide the laugh bubbling in her throat. “Shut up.”
“You should know by now that’s not quite my forte. Hence the plane. And the DM. And the texts. Wow, it sounds horrible now that I’ve listed it all out. I’m rather embarrassed.”
“Speaking of, does this DJ meet your qualifications for shots and dancing?”
“Ah.” Theo tugs at the collar of his shirt, and her eyes trace the subtle pink that’s tinged his neck. “This isn’t quite the music I was referring to.”
She raises a brow. “Oh? And what music were you referring to?”
He opens his mouth, hesitates, and opts for a long, fortifying pull of his drink. “I may be partial to nineties pop.”
“Like the Backstreet Boys?”
Theo sniffs. “Please. I have taste.”
“Okay. So, what then?”
“Britney Spears.”
She can’t help it. A laugh bursts out of her so suddenly that she covers her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she tries to stifle the sound. “You can’t be serious.”
Theo fixes her with a stern stare. “Britney is an icon.”
“No, I know, I just … sorry, the visual of you dancing to ‘Baby One More Time’ in a club is just … I can’t.”
“Nor will you ever,” he insists, but there’s a smile threatening to break through his annoyed facade. “Though I have been known to do a brilliant rendition of ‘Toxic’ at karaoke if thoroughly plastered.”
Sage waves her glass between them. “The night is young.”
Theo huffs an exasperated laugh. “Right. Now that I have well and truly embarrassed myself, am I forgiven for this week?”
Sage bites her lip.
She should go network. That was the whole point of agreeing to come to this party. Connections. Industry people. But Theo’s arm is warm against hers, and her cheeks hurt from smiling, and she can’t quite bring herself to disrupt whatever rhythm they’ve fallen into.
He’s … surprising. And so, so different from what she thought—enough that she sort of wants to learn more.
So instead, she says, “Jury is still out. Do you have any more pictures of Toothless? That’ll probably help.”
Theo pulls out his phone, and god does his grin do something strange to her insides. “What type of cat owner do you take me for?”