“We’re a gift. The world just isn’t ready for us,” Sage says.
The conversation drifts then—from classes to campus life to the chaos of living in a house with that many athletes under one roof. Sage complains about Luca stealing his own hoodies back. Nate teases him about being dramatic. I listen, adding small pieces where I can. It’s easy in a way that surprises me—the noise and movement around them making space for me instead of pushing me out.
At some point, Sage leans forward, resting his chin in his hand, studying me. “You know, you’re not what I expected.”
I blink. “What did you expect?”
He grins. “Someone a lot more fragile. After meeting you that first time, Luca made it sound like you were some delicate soul who needed to be handled with gloves.”
I snort softly. “Hewouldsay that.”
“Yeah,” Sage says, laughing. “But you’re not delicate. Reserved, sure. But there’s a difference.”
I stare into my tea, unsure what to say to that. No one’s ever accused me of not being fragile before. Hearing that from Sage hits a deep spot I didn’t realize needed validation.
“Thanks,” I say finally, my voice soft.
Sage shrugs, reaching for his sandwich. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m still deciding if you’re my new project or not.”
Nate glances at him. “You don’t need a project.”
“Everyone needs a project,” Sage argues. “Especially the ones pretending they don’t.”
I laugh quietly. “Should I be worried?”
Sage points his straw at me. “Absolutely.”
Nate smiles that cool, feline sort of smile he’s perfected. “You’ll survive. He prefers his projects breathing.”
“Most days,” Sage adds.
“Comforting,” I mutter, but the warmth in my chest betrays how much lighter I feel than I did an hour ago.
The waitress comes by again, refilling drinks while I pretend to nibble on the croissant. Outside, the light’s fading, the glow from the windows spilling across the sidewalk in uneven shapes. The hum of conversation from nearby tables blends with the soft music playing overhead. It feels… peaceful.
Sage breaks the silence first, glancing at my camera bag that I hadn’t even realized I brought along with me. “You really like photography, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s the only thing that ever made sense.”
Nate tilts his head, eyes on me. “Because you’re good at it, or because it’s quiet?”
I pause, surprised he’d see through it that fast. “Both, I guess. I prefer catching the beauty rather than being it.”
“Makes sense,” Sage says. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes being seen.”
I swallow at his perception of me. Usually, I’m the quiet one who fades out of conversations until I might as well not exist. Sage and Nate don’t do that at all. “I grew up under too much attention.”
Nate’s expression softens. “Parents?”
I nod again. “My dad was an Olympic swimmer, and my mom’s a model. Both are used to being looked at.”
Sage lets out a low whistle. “Yikes, no pressure there.”
“You’d think,” I say, smiling faintly. “They always said I had potential. That I could be better than them if I worked hard enough.”
“And did you?” Nate asks.
I shrug at that question. “I tried. After school, I visited my dad’s Olympic training camp. Last summer, I stayed with my mother at her modeling agency in Milan. Honestly, I’m not surewhy I agreed to go. Attempting to be their perfect son made the past two years the hardest of my life.”
