Playing With Fire || d.h

87. Sort of Famous

IT'S CHRISTMAS SEASON MY HOES. If you try to tell me I'm wrong, I'll fight you.

I still haven't adjusted to the cooler weather, and as we step onto the street, a breeze causes goosebumps to shoot up and down my arms. I instinctively pull my sleeves over my palms, before Dan grabs my hand, pulling me in a random direction.

Why do I feel as if he plans all these dates? I should initiate control, at least, at some point.

Even just walking around in London could be seen as a date, as the gritty beauty of this city is something I'll never be able to fully process. I can't help but take in my surroundings, admiring the golden hour sun reflecting from the countless windows, the neon lights coming from every corner, the echoes and voices bouncing from building to building. I really need to learn how to appreciate the little things.

I have to run my fingers through my hair countless times as the bustling wind blows it across my face, annoyingly blocking my vision. Luckily, the restaurant Dan had chosen had been something close by, and we arrive in only a few minutes. Dan holds the door open, and I step into the industrial building, the heels of my boots clacking on the wood planks.

I take in the ornate design carved into the trim, the way the booths are in their own alcoves, as if they had been carved into the wall itself, the metal ceiling tiles, the stained glass window that shoots dazzling colors around the entire room. Dan walks to the hostess, giving her his name. She grabs two menus, before leading us to one of the booths.

I slide in across from Dan, still attempting to take in my surroundings. Dan chuckles, and I look at him, cocking an eyebrow. He only shakes his head, looking down at his menu.

After ordering our drinks, the waiter comes to take our food order. Right after Dan asks for a cheeseburger, the waiter turns to me.

"Um, I'll just have the...spring salad," I reply nervously, the usual social anxiety that comes with ordering food kicking in. After the waiter walks away, I stir the straw of my Diet Coke, Dan's eyes drilling into me. I hope with every bone in my body that he doesn't say anything.

However, with just my luck, he does.

"You're not eating a lot," he blurts, and by his tone, I already know there's no way I'll be able to argue. "I know you're going through a hard time right now, but seriously, you can't do this to yourself. You're supposed to be gaining weight, and yet you're eating as if you're trying to lose it."

I'm too much of a wimp to even look up at him, instead rubbing my temple as I study the grains in the table, thinking of some sort of excuse. Even though I know nothing's going to fly with him, that's always going to be my first plan of action.

"I'm...I'm sorry," I say pathetically, finally growing a pair and looking into his confused eyes. "It's just...it's like a bad habit, y'know? Except it's an addiction. I'm working on it, but it's not something that I can fix overnight."

Thankfully, he nods in understanding. "Yeah, I get that. I understand I can't force you to get better. However, I just want you to promise me that you're trying."

I give him a small smile. "Yeah, I can promise that." He gives me a grateful look, before we change the subject to something different, more positive.

"So, when do you think you'll be returning to YouTube?"

Well, there goes any chance of it being something positive.

I only shake my head. "Honestly, Dan, I have no idea. I mean, I'm getting so much hate and harassment, and even with how good my channel is doing, considering subs and views, I don't know if it's something I can take."