In Real Life: My Journey to a Pixelated World

  I don’t know, when are you free? So much for playing it cool.

  Tonight. Want to go out? I felt a ripple of excitement run through my whole body.

  Sure.

  I jumped up and down on my bed while I called Whitney. “He wants to go out! Where should we go?”

  “I went to this place called Saddle Ranch recently. It’s kind of country western kitsch,” she said. “It was fun, and it’s a good first date place. Not too serious, and the decor is sort of ridiculous so there’s a lot to laugh at. I think there’s even a mechanical bull.”

  I suggested it, and Preston was game. But then things kept coming up. He had to move the time back an hour, then another hour, and then finally he asked if we could reschedule for the following day. I started to get nervous that he was going to blow me off, but he was apologetic and promised that we’d have a great time.

  The next morning I surveyed my closet and pulled out five outfits, placing them on the bed. I mixed and matched the shirts and pants and shoes all along the floor, trying to find the perfect combination, before deciding to play it safe with skinny jeans and a gray-and-green-striped tee-shirt. I left the house early to give myself plenty of time, but in LA, that doesn’t always help. I got on the 405 and almost immediately found myself stuck in gridlock. I cursed myself for not checking the traffic, and up ahead I could see fire billowing out of a horrible multiple car wreck. I was terrified for the people involved but still took a couple of photos on my phone to show Preston in case he didn’t believe me about why I was late. See? I imagined myself saying. I wasn’t here on time because a bunch of people got killed. I realized how morbid and callous that sounded and deleted the pictures.

  As I finally reached the exit, I got a text from him. I’m here.

  Running just a little late, I wrote at a red light. Ten more minutes!

  It was more like twenty by the time I found parking and reached the restaurant. The outside of it looked like a Disney ride, with cowboy and saloon girl mannequins standing in the upper windows. It was sort of creepy, like a whorehouse version of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

  I was just about to open the door when he called my phone. “Hi,” he said. “I’m here at the door.”

  “Me too. I’m so sorry I was late.”

  “Wait. I don’t see you.”

  “I’m in front of the door.”

  “Is this some kind of a joke? I’m right here, and you aren’t.”

  For a second, I freaked out, wondering if there was more than one location and I’d gone to the wrong one.

  “I’m facing Sunset, and I don’t see you anywhere,” he continued.

  I relaxed. I was at the door next to the parking lot, so I jogged around to the other side of the building.

  “Here I am!”

  He smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. I pictured a little white star twinkling on them for a second, like in a toothpaste commercial.

  “I thought you were ditching me,” he said as he gave me a hug hello. He was wearing some sort of deliciously crisp woodsy cologne.

  Never, I thought. “I got stuck in traffic. There was an awful accident.”

  We sat down at a table and I grinned nervously as the waitress gave us menus. Preston waved his away. “I already ate,” he told her. “Can I just get a Ranch AMF?”

  “Sure thing. And you?”

  “You’re not eating?” I asked him. “I’m starving!”

  He gave me a funny look. “I thought we were just meeting for drinks. I ate before I came.”

  Damn. I didn’t want to be the only one of us eating anything, but I was going to have a blood sugar meltdown if I didn’t. “I’ll just have that,” I said, pointing to some sort of chicken and vegetable special they had. “Sorry,” I said after she left. “I spaced on the eating part.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for wanting to eat,” he laughed. “So where’d you find this place?”

  “My friend Whitney suggested it. You met her the other night.”

  “Right. So are you going to ride the bull?” he asked, nodding at the corner where a drunken girl was screaming wildly before being tossed head first onto the cushioned flooring that surrounded the machine.

  I shuddered. “I don’t think so. I like my neck. I don’t want to break it.”

  The waitress came back with his drink. It was an alarming shade of blue, like antifreeze. “Here’s your Ranch AMF,” she said.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot,” he said. “It said on the menu that I should ask you what AMF stands for.”

  “ ‘Adios, Mother Fucker,’ ” she said. “Your food will be right out.”

  We both laughed. He took a tentative sip and then pushed it toward me. “I think we should probably share this. The menu said it has vodka, rum, gin, and tequila in it. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  We took turns taking small sips until my food arrived. He must have been hungrier than he thought because he ended up eating most of my food. I was still starving but far too nervous to eat. But after a while, I started to calm down. He was easy to talk to. We discussed everything. I told him all about my life in Massachusetts and how I got started doing YouTube. He told me about growing up without much money in Illinois and then escaping to college in the Northeast before deciding to try his luck in California.

  I felt a little surge of pride every time I saw someone at another table check him out. It’s hard not to notice someone as good looking as he is, and every time I caught someone staring, guys and girls alike, I thought: Back off; he’s with me.

  Before I knew it, almost five hours had passed and he had to leave. I quickly grabbed the check before he could make a move for it (I’d learned my lesson).

  Outside, we hugged good-bye, and as I stepped back he said, “Smile if you want to hang out again.”

  I grinned.

  “I’m going to Musical Monday at Eleven Bar tomorrow with a bunch of friends. Why don’t you come with us?”

  “What’s Musical Monday?”

  “People sing show tunes and stuff. It’s actually really fun. You should bring Whitney.”

  If he was ready to introduce me to his friends, I knew the date must have gone well.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  I called Whitney as soon as I got home. “It was amazing,” I told her. “You have to come to this thing with me tomorrow so we can meet his friends!”

  “I have plans,” she said. “And I can’t get out of them. I’m sorry. You should bring someone else!”

  But I didn’t want to invite anyone else. In truth I was a little relieved she couldn’t make it, because that meant I’d be alone at the end of the night, which would make it easier for us to possibly go off by ourselves.

  When I arrived at the club the next evening, I did a quick scan of the room but didn’t see him anywhere. The place seemed huge—with a balcony and tons of banquettes—and it was packed. I started to feel a little claustrophobic so I went in search of the bathroom. It’s something I like to do anytime I go somewhere new—immediately find the bathroom, because it’s usually quiet and it gives me a second to calm down and get my bearings. Plus I always have to pee when I’m nervous. I got a text from Preston while I was in there.

  Where’d you go? I just saw you!

  Bathroom. I’ll be right out.

  He was waiting for me outside the door and gave me a hug. “Come on,” he said. “I want you to meet all my friends. We have a booth.”

  We got to the table, and I felt dizzy. There were at least six people sitting with him, and they all looked cool and sophisticated. I felt like a child next to them, but they were all very friendly. Preston must have already told them a little bit about me because they started asking me all about YouTube stuff.

  This one guy named Jake who was sitting across from the table seemed particularly interested.

  “So how did you get started?” he asked, leaning in. I felt his knee brush mine under the table, and I jerked back.

&nb
sp; I started to tell him the whole story of WinterSpringPro, but all I could think was, Is this guy hitting on me? I was obviously there as Preston’s date. At least I thought it was obvious. Had Preston told these people that I was just a friend, or was this other guy being totally sleazy? I snuck a glance at Preston, and he was deep in conversation with one of the girls at the table and I felt a twinge of confusion. I turned back to Jake and continued to talk to him. He stared directly in my eyes the whole time. At least someone was flirting with me.

  It was hard to hear people over the sound of the performers onstage who were singing Broadway hits. Preston even jumped up at one point and sang some campy song about how everything was coming up roses. He had an okay voice.

  After that, his friends kept getting up to leave one by one, until finally it was down to Preston and Jake and me. Preston seemed oblivious to the fact that Jake had been hitting on me, and suddenly I had a terrifying thought. What if this is all some ploy for a three-way? There was no way in hell that was going to happen. But now that the thought was in my head, I couldn’t get it out. What if Preston was actually some sort of horrible creepy monster? What if they had roofied my drink? It occurred to me that I didn’t really know this guy at all.

  Preston finally said we should go, and I warily followed the two of them out to the parking lot, where Jake finally, thankfully, said good-bye and left.

  “Do you mind giving me a ride to my car?” Preston asked. “I parked kind of far away.”

  My heart sank as I remembered the time Sam had said those words to me when he ditched me on our date. I know how this ends, I thought.

  But he wasn’t acting like he was trying to ditch me. In fact, when we got to his car, we ended up sitting and talking for twenty minutes about dumb stuff like the weather. I eventually turned the engine off so I wasn’t wasting gas, and the sudden silence ramped up the tension. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t. He was too beautiful. And since he was older, it seemed like he should make the first move. I was pretty sure that he wanted to kiss me too but was holding back. Then suddenly he just said, “Okay, well, I’d better get going,” and hopped out of the car.

  I cursed myself for not having the courage to go for it. I worried that I’d blown it and I’d never hear from him again, but he texted later that night saying how much fun he’d had, and so I relaxed.

  I wanted to see him again as soon as possible, but he always had some sort of casting or acting class that he needed to go to.

  All of these auditions make me feel like such a whore sometimes, he texted me one day.

  You’d probably make more money working the streets, I wrote back.

  Seriously.

  Well let me know when you go that route. I’ll come by for a visit.

  Lol I’ll have to give you some sort of special offer.

  Whoa. He took that and ran with it. I felt myself blush.

  You have to kiss me first.

  Don’t worry, I will.

  He asked me on a third date for the following week—drinks at Pink Taco, a disturbingly named Mexican restaurant. I was determined to kiss him this time, no matter what happened. We’d pretty much set it up as a certainty based on that last text exchange. I met him at the bar and we were laughing and catching up when suddenly we heard someone say, “Hey, Preston!”

  We turned around and I recognized the guy as his friend from the night we first met at the Abbey. “Hey Alex,” Preston said. “What are you doing here?” He seemed annoyed.

  “You said you were gonna be here!”

  “Yeah, with Joey.”

  “Well, I figured I’d come by,” he said and then squeezed between us and ordered a margarita.

  Sorry, Preston mouthed. I just shrugged. It was annoying, but having someone else around did make conversation a little easier. It took the pressure off.

  After a while Alex got a text and told Preston that their friend Gwen was hanging out down the street at Cabo Cantina and that we should go meet her there. Preston raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Sure,” I sighed. Might as well add a fourth person to our date. It’s not like we had any privacy anyway.

  When we got to the cantina, I recognized Gwen as one of Preston’s friends from the Musical Monday night. We grabbed a table and chatted for a bit before Preston got up to use the bathroom. As soon as he left, Gwen turned to me.

  “I just want you to know that we—all of Preston’s friends—really like you.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet,” I said. “I really like all of you guys too!”

  “In fact, we think you’re perfect for him.”

  “That’s awesome. I like him a lot, and I’ve really loved getting to know him so far.”

  “Well, there’s one thing you should probably get to know about him sooner rather than later.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “Preston is . . .” She exchanged a quick glance with Alex, who nodded in support. “He’s a very complicated boy.”

  What the hell does that mean? I thought. I wanted to ask her questions but I didn’t have time. Preston was already striding back to our table. “I can handle complicated,” I told her with as much confidence as I could muster. I didn’t want to show any sort of hesitation. I wanted to prove to these people that I was strong and an adult and could tackle anything thrown my way. Still, it was a really weird and vague thing for her to say. “Complicated” could mean practically anything. (Worse, I suddenly got the Avril Lavigne song stuck in my head.)

  Preston had to be up early in the morning for yet another audition, so we ended the night and left his friends at the bar. I drove him back to his car, and he spent the ride slowly emptying an entire container of Sour Ice Breakers into his mouth. When I found his car, I pulled up alongside it and put on my hazards.

  “So,” I said.

  “You really like these things, don’t you,” he said, rattling the can of breath mints. “You always have them in your car.”

  “You’re the one eating them all,” I said.

  I heard him start crunching up the one that was currently in his mouth and quickly swallow it, like he was preparing. Does this mean it’s time to kiss? I wondered. Forget butterflies in my stomach—I was so nervous that I had a whole freaking butterfly sanctuary inside me. We had to kiss! I wasn’t going to take no as an option. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and he was staring at me. I looked away quickly and heard him laugh, so I slowly turned my head back to him. Even though it was dark, I could still see little flecks of light from the streetlights dancing in his emerald eyes. I leaned in, he leaned in, and we finally kissed.

  I was better at it this time. At least that’s what I think looking back on it, because while it was happening I was incapable of any coherent thought at all. There was no anxiety about the fact that I was making out so heavily with a guy—it felt completely natural. It was everything you want a kiss to be—his lips were crazy soft and he gently cupped the back of my head with his hands. When we finally finished making out, I realized almost thirty minutes had passed.

  “Wow,” I said. “I like you.”

  “I like you too,” he smiled. He gave me another quick kiss and jumped out of the car.

  He texted me later that night: I really like kissing you. This guy was a charmer. He knew exactly what to say to make me feel special, and it’s what made me start to fall hard for him. I felt like I was floating for the next few days. I kept reliving the night in my head over and over, and I’m sure Whitney and Cat and Luke all got sick of me constantly talking about it. I couldn’t wait to see him again and told him as much, but once again he got really busy with auditions.

  One day when I checked in to see what he was up to, he said he was recording an audition for a primetime teen drama.

  I can’t get the lighting right in my room for my webcam, he texted. I immediately called him up.

  “You’re using your webcam for a big audition?” I said. “That’s crazy. You need to present yourself like a profess
ional if you want to be taken seriously.”

  “It’s all I’ve got.”

  “Why don’t you come over and let me record you? I’ve got a really great camera and a whole lighting setup that I use for my videos.”

  “You’d do that?”

  As long as you make out with me afterward, I thought. “Of course!”

  I scrambled to clean my room, and by the time he arrived, I had the camera equipment all set up. He was wearing a pale green deep V-neck tee-shirt and the forest-like cologne I loved. We made out for a little while before getting started.

  “Come on,” he said with a laugh as he finally rolled away. “We should get moving.”

  I made him stand in one spot until I got the lighting just right, and then we filmed several takes of his audition. In the scene, he played a high school kid who was breaking up with his girlfriend, and he had to be serious and sad. He played it a few different ways (sad, sadder, and saddest) and then we watched the videos and chose the best one (we decided on the midrange version).

  He flopped down on my bed and patted the area next to him. I crawled into his arms, and we made out some more.

  “Thank you so much for letting me use your stuff,” he said. “I feel really good about this audition.”

  He changed his mind the next day, though.

  After watching it again, I feel like it’s all wrong, he texted. Can I come back over and redo it?

  So he came back over and we reshot the scene. I couldn’t really tell the difference between the two performances, but he seemed happier, and we got to make out some more. At one point, I pulled away.

  “I’d really love for you to meet my friends,” I said. “I’ve already met so many of yours, and I think you’d get along with mine.”

  “Sure,” he said, but he seemed hesitant. It was the first red flag I had about him. He had no problem with me meeting all of his friends, but he wasn’t interested in mine? Maybe this is what Gwen meant when she told me he was complicated. (Cue Avril.)

  I pushed the thought out of my head, though, and planned a beach day in Santa Monica with Whitney and Luke and Preston. I even went out and bought a new bathing suit for the occasion, but the morning of the date, Preston canceled.