By Sara Radin

Copyright gq

Conrad Fisher isn’t just another YA love interest—he’s the emotional core of Jenny Han’s The Summer I Turned Pretty and the Amazon series it inspired. As the oldest Fisher sibling, he’s brooding, loyal, and weighed down by grief, trying to hold his family together while navigating first love and the looming loss of his mother. To fans, that mix of protectiveness and vulnerability makes him both infuriating and irresistible—a classic “black cat boyfriend” who’s impossible to forget.
That fascination has spilled far beyond Cousins Beach and onto TikTok and other social platforms. According to Threads, there were nearly 40 percent more The Summer I Turned Pretty-related posts about Conrad than Jeremiah (his brother and romantic rival) during the Amazon show’s third and final season, and there were 2.5x as many mentions of Conrad compared to Belly (we love a yearner).
This summer, as the final season unfolded, each new episode sparked a wave of memes, edits, and fan commentary. One standout came from Jake Schroeder (@frostedjake), who began posting playful jingles about Conrad. “He’s kind of everything we need as a society,” he told GQ. “He’s shy and sweet and sexy.”
At the center of it all is Chris Briney, the 27-year-old actor who plays Conrad—affectionately dubbed “Connie Baby” by fans. With the series finale airing this week, Briney has cemented himself as Hollywood’s newest young heartthrob, embodying a character whose brooding charm and flashes of vulnerability have made him a generational crush.
The Leo Connection
In the swirl of edits, memes, and thirsty tweets, one comparison has dominated: Chris Briney looks uncannily like a young Leonardo DiCaprio. From Romeo + Juliet to Titanic, DiCaprio was the defining teen heartthrob of his era—and fans see Briney stepping into that lineage.
The resemblance isn’t just about bone structure. Briney’s underwater stare-down with Belly in the pilot—a direct homage to Romeo + Juliet—positioned him as a successor to DiCaprio’s brand of soulful, blue-eyed longing. Social media has since been flooded with side-by-side comparisons of Briney and Titanic-era Leo, who both sport tousled hair, angular jawlines, and a melancholy gaze.
One moment in particular stands out: in episode six, Conrad takes a surfboard to the leg and the camera lingers on him, wet hair plastered to his forehead. The shot looks almost identical to one of DiCaprio in Titanic, further fueling the comparison and underscoring how Briney channels the same cinematic language that once made Leo a global obsession.
As creator Megan Witthaus (@mewitthaus) notes, “Leo in the peak of his career is synonymous with romantic sincerity, so it makes sense that someone with as much of his likeness as Chris Briney would just click for women everywhere.”
Fan and writer Elizabeth Scholnick (@elizabethsokolin) frames it as a generational pattern: every era seems to rally around one actor who embodies young love, longing, and mystery. In the ’90s it was DiCaprio’s Jack Dawson—whose tragic romance seared itself into a generation’s memory. Now, Scholnick argues, Briney’s Conrad carries the same “beauty, mystery, and sexual appeal,” with the potential to launch him into similar superstardom.
A New Kind of Heartthrob
Part of what sets Briney’s performance apart is how it redefines the familiar teen drama archetype. For Jessica, the creator behind @faeryfolkk, Conrad resonates because he represents “a breed of masculinity that the world today has yet to embrace.” Unlike the traditional alpha male who commands through bravado, Conrad embodies a quieter strength rooted in humility and care.
That sincerity feels especially radical in today’s dating culture, where buzzwords like “gaslighting,” “love bombing,” and “ghosting” dominate discourse. Against that backdrop, Conrad feels like a reprieve: a character who shows up with honesty, even when he falters.
The “black cat boyfriend” trope—moody but devoted—has long appealed to viewers, from Jess Mariano in Gilmore Girls to Ryan Atwood in The O.C. What makes Conrad different is that he doesn’t just sulk or sabotage; he seeks change. He apologizes when he’s wrong, admits his flaws, and tries to grow. Briney captures this evolution in small gestures—every flinch, every crack in his voice—that make Conrad’s emotional arc feel strikingly real.
Teen Drama Royalty
For Laura of @notsocriticallyacclaimed, Conrad’s appeal lies in this mix of tradition and evolution. He embodies the moody, broody type audiences root for because they glimpse the emotional depth beneath his self-sabotage. It’s a role that has long defined the teen drama, the kind of character whose sideways glance or lopsided smile could launch a thousand fan edits. From Jess Mariano’s tortured genius to Lucas Scott’s artistic sensitivity, these figures dominate pop culture because they promise both danger and devotion.
By season three, Briney had firmly cemented himself as part of that canon. His Conrad feels both timeless and distinctly modern, echoing the heartthrobs who came before him while carving out space for a new kind of romantic sincerity.
The New Jack Dawson
Together, these voices paint Briney not just as another teen idol but as a rare actor able to channel vulnerability, self-awareness, and sincerity at a moment when audiences are hungry for all three. Like DiCaprio in the late ’90s, Briney has arrived at the perfect cultural moment—anointed by fandom, propelled by TikTok, and backed by a character who embodies both fantasy and truth.
If Leo was the Jack Dawson of a millennial generation, Briney is shaping up to be Conrad Fisher for Gen Z.
As Schroeder, the TikTok creator who helped soundtrack this summer’s obsession, puts it: “I write songs for people I yearn for. There’s a palpability to Conrad—he is in the room with me. I need him. Now.”