The truth hangs heavier than I meant it to, but neither of them fills the silence this time. Sage sets his drink down, his usual grin fading into something quieter. “You ever hear of Aspen Blackwell?”
I blink at the sudden change of subject. “Uhm, yeah. He’s that famous producer, right?”
There’s a twinkle in his eye as he nods. “Yeah, he’s also my dad.”
My mouth falls open. For a second, I’m not sure I heard him right. “Wait—Aspen Blackwell is your dad? The Aspen Blackwell?” The one who has his name in the credits of half the movies I watched growing up, the guy with more Oscars than some countries. I gape, looking between Sage and Nate, as if one of them is about to admit it’s a joke.
But Sage just grins, a little sheepish, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “Yeah, that’s him. I think I learned to set up a C-stand before I learned to ride a bike because I basically grew up on film sets.” He shrugs, a tilt of his mouth that’s almost apologetic. “I picked up the bug from my dad, but he never pushed. Wasn’t interested in making me a star or anything. He just wanted me to be happy.”
I watch the way his face softens as he says it, the genuine affection there. There’s no resentment in Sage’s voice—just a matter-of-fact pride, like someone who’s already made peace with his legacy.
For a moment, I envy that. To have parents who don’t twist your whole life around what they want. To be allowed to choose for yourself.
“You know, you don’t have to earn the right to exist, right? You’re allowed to justbe,” Sage says, nodding toward my camera bag. “And to choose something that’s just yours.”
It’s the simplest thing in the world, but it lands heavy in my chest. I look down at my hands, thinking about all the times I let the shutter click just to feel present, about the quiet hours in darkrooms and the silent way a perfect photo settles into memory. How different that peace is from the adrenaline-soaked misery of the pool.
I look away, my throat tightening. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” Nate says, tone low but understanding. “But it’s still true.”
Their words linger long after, wrapping around the space between us. I let myself breathe a little deeper than usual, picking up my cup and taking a sip.
Sage grins again when he looks at me, his energy snapping back into motion. “Alright, deep talk quota met. Back to lighter things. Tell me something embarrassing about Damien.”
I nearly choke on my tea. “W-what?”
“Come on,” he says, leaning in. “There has to be something. Everyone’s got dirt on their family—or, ex-family in your case.”
I shake my head quickly. “I don’t—there’s nothing…. We’re nothing.”
Nate smirks. “That’s a lie.”
“It’s not,” I insist, though the way heat creeps up my neck probably gives me away.
Sage immediately catches the scent of blood in the water. “Oh, there’ssomething. You’re blushing. This is the best day of my life.”
“I’m not—” I start, but Nate cuts in smoothly.
“Let him breathe, Sage. You scare people when you get excited.”
Sage rolls his eyes. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m realistic,” Nate replies, then glances at me. “Don’t let him bully you. He collects secrets like athletes collect trophies.”
Sage gasps. “That’s slander. I thought you were my best friend.”
“That’s why I know,” Nate says, smirking.
Their easy rhythm pulls me in before I can resist. I laugh quietly, the sound startling me as much as them. Sage grins widely, triumphant. “There it is again. See, Nate? He’s fixable.”
“He’s not broken, you chaos twink,” Nate corrects automatically, and the way he says it makes my chest tighten. “He’s just… underused.”
I shake my head, smiling into my cup.
By the time we finish, I feel lighter in a way I can’t remember feeling since sitting at the pond with Damien. When we step outside, the streetlights have flickered on, and the air smells faintly of rain. Sage pulls his hoodie up and stretches, humming something under his breath.
“See?” he says, glancing at me. “That wasn’t so bad.”
