But when I went to the booth, it definitely seemed like Emily andTate were more interested in each other.They were deep in some conversation I wisely chose not to interrupt.
Emily shrugs. “It was really nice talking with him again.”There’s a little smile at the edges of her lips.
“Mmm-hmmm.” I nod knowingly and waggle my eyebrows at Brendan the moment Emily turns away. He laughs, and we enter the exhibit hall behind Emily. Brendan’s fingers brush against mine, maybe by accident, but it takes everything in me not to fold my hand in his and never let go.
The moment we walk into the massive hall, it’s obvious Brendan was right—this is nothing like a high school prom.There are thousands of people packed in here, for one, a massive sea of heads bobbing up and down, glow sticks waving. Strobe lights in neon colors sweep the audience.The DJ raises one hand to the beat from up on the stage, wearing a big futuristic helmet like a wannabe Deadmau5, surrounded by some LA dance troupe shaking their asses in shiny silver bodysuits. Huge screens frame the hall, right now all synced to the music video for the Kylie Minogue song currently playing. Bubbles float in the air, fed into the room from suspended bubble machines, glinting in the strobe lights, popping as they hit the crowd below.
See Mei-Ling? Bubbles areawesome.
“Where isTate, anyway?” I ask.
“Getting some drinks.” Emily points at one of the bar stations. He’s leaning against the bar, all suave in a tux vest over a fitted white shirt and black dress pants.Tate always dresses well.
All YouCon events are open to minors—teens make up the bulk of our audience—so the bars here don’t serve alcohol. But they do a fun job with virgin specialty drinks and way overcharge for them, so the kids probablyfeellike they’re at a real bar.
“Hey look, there’s Jason,” Emily says, gesturing toward the edge of the dance floor, which is ringed by puffy red couches.There, indeed, is Jason, looking like a member of the modern rat pack, in pants with suspenders and neon green wingtip shoes.
He manages to somehow make that look good, but what really catches my attention is the girl he’s talking to. Or rather, the girl who is holding court, with him being one of a group of guys hanging around her like moths fluttering around a bright, sexy porch light. (Do moths think porch lights are sexy? How would we even know?)
Jane Shaw. Gorgeous, skyrocketing YouTube star, who first started off doing incredible cosplay and gaining cred in the geek world, and then, two years ago, added a comedy element to her show with—guess what—puppets.
Which, whatever. I certainly didn’t invent the concept of adult puppet comedy. And we don’t even go for the same audience, not really. She’s a ventriloquist, for one, which is a talent I do not possess, but which admittedly seems super cool. Her show still focuses more on the geek element, and she does some sharp feminist bits on the treatment of women in the geek world. And mine—now Brendan’s and mine—is more generally pop-culture based, more mainstream (when it comes to sock puppet shows, anyway).
Our shows are nothing alike, but she and I are always grouped together in the press—the YouTube “puppet girls.” And while it’s not her fault, it’s sooo not fun to be constantly compared in side by side photos to a girl who looks likethat.
She’s currently rocking a tight black corset and tiny green booty shorts over fishnet pantyhose, with over-the-knee black stiletto-heeled boots. Her platinum blond hair is crowned with a tiara of silver twigs.
It’s a cosplay of Hemlock, the comic book hero who in the movies is played by the beautiful Kim Watterson (formerly of it-couple Watterpless, before Blake Pless supposedly cheated on her with the nanny, which is bonkers becauseKim Watterson!).
Jane holds her own, though, even in comparison to the actress. Her figure is curvy in all the right places, and she knows how to show it off to full advantage.
Every time I see her, I feel like a little girl pretending to be an adult (and not terribly well, considering both other times I saw her in person I was wearing a Super Mario Bros t-shirt).
The worst part is, she seems super nice, so I can’t really dislike her and still feel even remotely good about myself.
Jane sees me and waves, jumping up and down as if to get my attention. Her boobs bounce even in the tight corset as she jumps, and the guys around her enjoy the show. I smile and wave back, looking away quickly enough that I think I can safely pretend I didn’t see her beckoning me to come join her.
I really don’t need the real life side-by-side comparison.
“Yep, that’s Jason,” I say. “Apparently making sure he gets a front-row view of Jane Shaw’s rack.”
This makes me feel slightly vindicated about what I told Emily earlier—it doesn’t exactly prove he’s a player, but it certainly doesn’t disprove it.
Brendan shrugs, a grin on his face as he looks back from his own study of Jane. “Well, itisa nice rack.”
Emily laughs like she agrees with him, and I do, too, but I feel a little sick.
Of course it’s a nice rack. She’s got a nice everything. She’s sexy and confident and totally the type of woman—not girl—that would make a guy feelreally intense passion.
Not like a certain virgin in a puffy dress and sneakers who is short and small-boned and barely fills a B-cup.
Maybe I should have worn something sexier. Maybe I should have broughtThe Dress to the con—the one that’s been hanging in my closet waiting for me to have the courage (and a reason) to wear it ever since I impulsively bought it two months ago while bridesmaid dress shopping with Mei-Ling.
Emily asks Brendan about the panels we went to today, and I try to pay attention, but I start going back to our conversation last night about Candace—who looks a little like Jane, actually, at least in being blond and pretty and curvy.
He doesn’t think he actually loved Candace, which was a shock to me and a huge relief. She didn’t deserve to be loved by a guy like Brendan. Not with what she did to him.
But this thing he had with her—this passion, this high, thiszing. Maybe he doesn’t consider it love, and maybe he’s right. But I wish I made him feel a little like that. Not in the ways that hurt him—god, I never, never want to hurt him. When he said he didn’t feel that way with me, I think he mostly meant the bad aspects of their relationship. But it sounds like those bad aspects and that passion were all tied up in one, and if he doesn’t feel the passion part of that with me at all . . .
