Noah Centineo was just two steps from By Chloe, a fast-casual vegan restaurant on Lafayette Street in Manhattan, when he was recognized.
“You went to Boca High, right?” said a brunette woman in her 20s, wearing a tank top and skirt.
“Yeah,” Mr. Centineo said cautiously, looking up.
“So did I,” the woman said, pulling out her earbuds. Turns out they had an acquaintance in common from their high school days in Florida.
“You’re kidding me,” he said, using more colorful language.
Mr. Centineo is used to being recognized these days, though not just for going to Boca High. As the 22-year-old star of the Netflix teen comedy “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,” he sent the internet into a collective swoon last month, playing Peter Kavinsky, the jock with a heart of gold.
Mr. Centineo swears it hasn’t gone to his head. “It’s on a two-dimensional screen. It’s not like it’s really happening in real life,” he said, drinking a kale and spinach cold-pressed juice. “You start noticing your numbers and people start reaching out to you.”
“That’s really been the surreal part of it,” he continued, “random people who I haven’t spoken with in years or people that I’m close with who are like, ‘Oh my God, you’re on my Instagram feed, you’re on my Twitter, you’re all over Tumblr.’”
Mr. Centineo was in town from Los Angeles, where he lives, to promote his latest project for Netflix: “Sierra Burgess Is a Loser,” a gender-swapped, digital-age retelling of “Cyrano de Bergerac” set in a high school.
He had back-to-back interviews, and to get out some of his abundant boyish energy, he suggested a stroll around NoLIta, a neighborhood that he tries to check out whenever he is in New York.
But he may not have been prepared for the triple-digit temperatures and sweat-inducing humidity. It wasn’t even noon and already his tangle of dreamy curls was starting to droop. Faint pools of sweat appeared on his striped T-shirt and button-down, which he wore with chunky sneakers by Valentino.
“They’re so sick,” Mr. Centineo said. Sadly, they were just on loan from his stylist.
What was supposed to be a leisurely stroll soon became a game of staying cool, something difficult for someone who describes himself as easily distracted. Up the block from By Chloe, he spotted a shaded fire station driveway and bounded across the street into oncoming traffic.
“I just like climbing things and exploring,” he said, as sweat formed above his matinee-idol brows.
While Mr. Centineo isn’t new to the small screen (his TV credits include a 53-episode run on the progressive family drama “The Fosters”), “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” has been a career breakthrough.
What is it like becoming a verified celebrity overnight? “It’s all of the above: It’s humbling, it’s inspiring, and it’s really motivating,” he said, as he popped into Carré d’artistes, an affordable art gallery on Prince Street, for some robust air-conditioning. “I’ve been working for this for 14-plus years.”
Mr. Centineo grew up near Palm Beach, Fla., where he got his start in community theater. Local modeling gigs and commercials landed him an agent and bigger roles in Los Angeles.
At a certain point, his agent said he had to move west if he wanted to continue. “That’s when I looked at my parents and was like, ‘Yo, I’m about it. If you move me there I’ll be successful. This is what I want to dedicate my life to,’” he said.
While Los Angeles was great for Mr. Centineo’s career, it also offered temptations. “A year and a half ago I decided to cut the negative habits, things and people out, and dedicated myself to loving myself and my career,” he said.
Instead of drinking and smoking weed, he began working out and eating better. “This feels like the fruits of the harvest coming to fruition,” he said. “What I found was, when I took care of my body, my mind and my emotions and my heart were way happier. When I wasn’t drinking, when I wasn’t smoking weed and partying, I was responsible for my actions and I could choose my actions from a more mindful place. And my life changed — drastically.”
Outside the gallery, Mr. Centineo noticed the corner traffic light and took its very presence as a dare. “Should I climb it?” he said, with a mischievous grin. Before receiving an answer, his 6-foot-2 frame was already clambering on top of a trash can. Mr. Centineo hasn’t let fame dampen his wild, youthful charms.
“Ever since I’ve been a kid, I’ve always been about running around, climbing trees, exploring,” he said, when he was earthbound again. He has done parkour in the past and recently took up M.M.A. boxing, much to the chagrin of his agents and managers.
“It’s crazy when you get rocked in the face for the first time,” he said. “I’ll be sparring, and someone will come down and nail me with a right hook and I’ll start smiling. That’s when the adrenaline hits.”
After his little stunt, he stumbled into the Elizabeth Street Garden, hoping to find shade. The collection of odd statues caught his interest, and he wound his way through overgrown pots of plants and circled a gazebo before spotting cover near a gardening shed. Shelter at last!
Not once during two hours with a reporter did Mr. Centineo pull out his smartphone to check his Instagram or Snapchat, which is surprising for an actor who so convincingly plays a teenager living in a social-media-saturated world.
He’s no Luddite but is consciously trying to manage his tech intake. “The other day I went up to some dunes in Malibu and just turned off my phone for, like, eight hours,” he said. “I leave my phone in the car when I go hiking or when I’m at the gym.”
Still, he recognizes that his celebrity owes a debt to Instagram. “When you’re someone who is in the attention of the masses, you can’t help but become a sort of reality personality.”
The shade turned out to provide little relief from the heat. It was getting close to 2 p.m. and he had more interviews in store. And he needed to freshen up again, as sweat was dripping down the side of his face. “I’ve got to embrace it,” Mr. Centineo said with a defeated laugh. “It’s just about being in the moment.”
It was time to head back to his air-conditioned chariot, an Escalade, and head off to People magazine’s offices, which were presumably icebox cold.
As he headed out of the garden, a timid young woman with dyed-blond hair stopped him and asked for a photo. Another Boca High alum? No, she had seen him on TV.
