She shakes her head. “No, thanks. I think I’m going to go get another drink.” She heads off across the room, and I turn to chase after Su-Lin.
I find her standing against the wall outside, holding the bridge of her nose.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Well, I just set you up with a lesbian and then it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize she was actually hitting onme. So there’s that.”
“Hey.” I hold up my hands. “I’m the one who danced two songs with her in which we talked non-stop about you. Felt pretty normal to me, so I didn’t even notice.”
She smiles at that, like maybe she gets my meaning. I’m totally failing at this pursuing other people thing, and not because the girl I asked to dance happened to swing the other way.
Because even if she hadn’t, I’d already sent about a thousand signals that I was taken, from the stuff I was talking about to the way I couldn’t stop staring at Su-Lin.
“What about that guy you were dancing with?” I ask. “He seemed cool.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Su-Lin says. She doesn’t follow that with anything, which is a dead giveaway that something’s wrong. Su-Lin always has something to say.The fact that she doesn’t—
“What are you two doing hiding out here?”
I look up to see Emily andTate coming toward us, arms slung around each other. “Come on,” Emily continues, “your friend Jason has decided to climb the scaffolding next to the stage, and he’s got about a hundred people underneath him with their arms out, ready to catch him if he falls. I say he’s going to fall and crush someone, andTate is so sure he won’t that he’s going to buy the next round if Jason makes it.”
I know Su-Lin was worried about the Emily and Jason situation, but Emily looks pretty happy wrapped inTate’s arms. I look over at her. “You want to join them or call it a night?”
She straightens herself up to her full height, which is barely five-one. “Jason isn’t going to fall. He never falls. I say we get one more round onTate.” Her smile seems genuine again. I suppose if she was mad at me for running that guy off, she’s forgiven me.
Next time, I’ll do better. But for the moment, I’m just going to enjoy the company of my best friend.
Even if I know the night is not going to end before she makes me dance with at least one more woman who isn’t her.
Seven
Su-Lin
Iwas worried about how Brendan would handle our first big panel, especially because it’s a particularly massive one. We’re far from the most famous YouTubers on this panel, which is about making old ideas fresh. While I started my show six years ago, it didn’t actually run that long—only two seasons over two years. Most of the people on this panel have been keeping their shows going—consistently coming up with creative new content—for that length of time or even longer. We’re the newbies when it comes to this topic.
So between that and the sea of hundreds of faces staring at us from the audience and Brendan’s natural disinclination for crowds, I’ve been hoping he wouldn’t have a full-on panic attack. But except for him being a little quiet at the very beginning, his knee jiggling under the table, he’s done so well. He’s been funny and charming and informative, talking about what it’s like coming onto an already established show and the kinds of changes we’re making. He and I toss back and forth our usual banter (okay, maybe our usual banter with slightly less sexual innuendo), and the audience is laughing and asking questions and other panelists are jumping in and taking their turns, and, well—it’s actually super fun. More fun because Brendan’s here to share it with me.
It’s going so well, in fact, that I’m surprised when five minutes before the panel ends, a kid in the second row asks us how long we see our show going on in this iteration, and Brendan’s knee starts jiggling again.
I’m amused at this kid who can’t be more than thirteen being so serious and adorable and using the word “iteration,” but Brendan’s face has gone pale. He takes a drink of water.
I’m not sure if it’s talk of the future that bothers him—is he so afraid of commitment that he can’t imagine sticking with the show? Or is it just that doing the panel is starting to wear on him?There’s not always a trigger for these things. At least, not that Brendan can explain.
Either way, it leaves me to answer. “We don’t have a set time frame,” I say. “Brendan and I have a blast coming up with new characters and concepts and sketch ideas, so I don’t expect it to end anytime soon. And probably then we’ll come up with something else equally awesome and fun for you all.”
It’s not a spectacular answer; I would love to have ended on a clever joke, but whatever.The audience is happy, our moderator brings the panel to a close, and everyone’s clapping. Brendan doesn’t dart out immediately, so I think he’s mostly okay.
I reach for his hand under the table (which is covered by a tablecloth, so the audience won’t see us holding hands), and he takes mine and squeezes.
“Great job,” I say to him as everyone’s standing up to leave. He smiles at me, but it looks forced.
Fortunately, the moderator—expecting that some of the better-known YouTubers would get mobbed after this—made it clear that this room was needed right away for the next panel, so everyone would clear out.
Brendan doesn’t look like he’s having a panic attack, but I definitely don’t think he wants to be drawn into an impromptu post-panel Q&A with a small crowd of fans.
We make our own escape and enter the main exhibit hall, which is always crowded and chaotic, making it harder for any fans following us out of the panel to mob us.
I wish I could still hold his hand. “You okay? You seemed like you got nervous there toward the end. But you really did fantastic.” I bounce a little, smiling at him. “Wedid fantastic.”
