You Look Different in Real Life

“Welcome to the jungle.”
    When he sees the camera, he pauses, his head tilted sideways.
    “Is it okay?” I ask.
    Dylan exchanges a look with Nate, then laughs. “Sure.I’ll make sure not to do anything illegal.”
    We take the elevator up to the seventh floor, which I realize is actually the eighth floor because there’s a button L for the ground floor and a button 1 for the second floor. I can’t believe how misleading this is, and find myself wondering who I can write to about it.
    Dylan leads us down a long hallway that smells of coffee, bleach, and ramen noodles. The floor is tile and our footsteps echo way too loudly, which makes it seem even more obvious that we don’t belong here. To add to the topsy-turvy-ness of the situation, Felix and Rory are still holding hands, and Nate, carrying my backpack and his, keeps looking behind him to see where I am.
    Finally, Dylan opens a door and we’re in a room that seems to be all things at once. There’s a small kitchen and table on one end, a TV and a futon couch in the middle, and a twin bed in the corner. But based on what I’ve seen of dorm rooms in Mountain Ridge, this one rates at least three stars. The futon is on a dark wood frame and actually has throw pillows; magazines are spread out on the coffee table in front of it. There’s a small alcove off this room with two doors facing each other.
    Two guys emerge from one of the doors, which I now see is a small bedroom. “Is it you ?” asks one of them, auburn-haired, well-gelled, as he stares excitedly at us.
    “It’s them ,” says Dylan, then turns to us. “Sorry. My roommates studied the Five At series in their class ondocumentaries, and this is apparently the most serendipitous moment of their lives.”
    “Hi,” says the other roommate, blond, holding out his hand to Nate. “I’m Adam. This is Max.” As he says “Max,” he loops his arm around the dark-haired boy’s shoulder and they lean into each other. “Forgive us if we’re a little starstruck.”
    I remember what it was like to get recognized, right after Six and Eleven came out. If I was having a bad day, I hated it; on great days, I loved it so much that I almost asked the people for their autographs too. Right now, I’m not sure if this day counts as bad or good.
    Max nods. “We knew Dylan grew up with you guys but . . .” He spots the camera in my hand, which I put on pause the second we came into the suite. “Oh my God! Are you shooting the new film?”
    “No,” I snap, instinctively moving the camera behind my back. “I’m just . . . this is just personal.”
    “That’s a mighty big rig for just personal,” says Adam.
    “It’s complicated,” says Nate, in a way that lets them know they need to drop it . That protectiveness. I’ve only ever seen it come out for Keira or Rory. But this time, for me.
    Max and Adam look disappointed, so I add, “Is it okay if I shoot some stuff in here with you?”
    “Uh, we’d be thrilled . But let us declutter first,” says Dylan. “The place is embarrassing like this.”
    As Max and Adam pick up, Nate gathers our bags into a pile in the kitchen and starts talking to Dylan about swimming. Rory asks to use the bathroom. Felix walks the perimeter of the room, checking the place out. I find myself turning the camera back on and following along with him.
    If we didn’t already know Dylan was gay and hadn’t just met one of his roommates and his roommate’s boyfriend , the décor would seal the deal. There are art prints of male nudes. There’s a poster of a well-known underwear ad, some athlete I can’t remember the name of, in his tighty whities. I’m looking at a handmade ceramic platter hanging above the crappy, beat-up microwave, and it’s such a contrast that I can’t help but think the placement is intentional.
    “Adam’s mom made that,” says Dylan, stepping up next to me. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
    Somewhere in my exploration I lost track of Felix, but I see he’s now standing near the bathroom door, becoming one with the wall.
    “Justine,” says Nate, coming over to me. “Food.”
    “Yes. Food.” I am loving our shorthand language.
    “Do you feel comfortable using your sister’s credit card for a hunger emergency?”

TWENTY
    T he sky’s already changed colors when Nate and I step back onto the street. All the lights have that early-evening blurriness along their edges, and it feels like the rhythm of the city has shifted too, at once sped up