Page 13 of Temptation at Randy's

Maybe I was just easy—or biased, because when Arlene didn’t look on the verge of combusting, she was nice to talk to. Sweet, in a cinnamon roll kind of way. I should’ve remembered that when someone was nervous around me, the safest thing always was to talk about Ben.

“Thanks.” Arlene squirmed, heat rising to her cheeks. “You can take some home. I baked a lot.”

“I mean, sure?”

It was my turn to be uncomfortable. Was I abusing her generosity? I didn’t get the vibe that she was a starstruck fan, but… I still hesitated. Most of the people I used to hang out with in LA loved it when others went the extra mile for them on the basis that they recognized them, but…

Not me.

“You know,” Arlene spoke, unaware of my inner turmoil. It was probably for the best. “I should probably rewatch some of the old vlogs now. They really were a lifesaver when I was in college.”

“Is it bad I never quite understood that?”

I loved YouTube. I loved vlogging, and streaming, but I didn’t love watching myself. I guess it was another reason why my content never made it big. I could never quite connect with my audience because I was never a part of it. I saw what others did, and I tried to mimic it. That was it.

“What do you mean?” Arlene cocked her head to the side as she asked.

I didn’t know if she realized how expressive she was or if it was something I could mention without her imploding again. I’d rather avoid more of that happening.

“I just… I loved making content and recording stuff, but when people commented about dopamine hits and healing from watching me talk about the most random stuff?” I shook my head. It wasn’t something I was super proud of, but for some reason, I wanted to tell her, to open up to her. “I didn’t get it.”

For a few seconds, Arlene remained silent. Her chocolate brown eyes darted around. I didn’t want to assume and read too much into what it meant.

“For me? It was about seeing queer people thriving without stress and dread and real-life complications.” She looked down, fidgeting with her hands. “When I was in college, especially as a freshman, most people who weren’t close to me kept reading me wrong. And then there was the whole anxiety about exams and papers and group projects. There was stress coming from every direction.”

“Right.”

I hated that for her. My stomach churned the way it did when people discussed anything transphobia-related. Who wanted daddy issues when you could have issues with your entire family instead? I just nodded, though. It was easy to tell that Arlene needed to talk, and I was used to it. Most trans people I was friends with ended up referencing something at some point.

“So, YouTubers were kind of… goals. I mean, obviously, even back then I knew there was a lot going on behind the scenes?—”

“Understatement of the year,” I snorted.

“Yeah,” Arlene continued, “I wasn’t clueless. I knew no one’s life could be that quote-unquote perfect, but… Watching you, and the others, made me forget. I could believe that lives like that were possible, and within reach, and life wasn’t just shitty for everyone.”

I nodded. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before, but the words somehow sank in better when it was Arlene speaking them. Which was… disturbing. I didn’t have big reactions to people like that.

To distract myself, and figure out how to answer, I grabbed another of the cheesecake bars. To be honest, I hadn’t been fully convinced when I first saw it. She wasn’t kidding when she said presentation wasn’t her strongest suit. That, and I’d forgotten to mention that Rice Krispies weren’t my favorite thing in the whole wide world.

The things really tasted amazing, though. The cheesecake melted in my mouth, and the hints of raspberry she’d added?

Damn.

I could eat the entire batch right here and now. Even the base had… honey? Or something. But it made it so the Rice Krispies weren’t dry, and it all came together, and… Whatever. I never claimed to be a food reviewer. It tasted amazing, and I’d go to great lengths for more of it.

“Do you miss it?”

Uh oh.

This was why lingering silences were never a good idea. People got the need to fill them, and then there was no control of the narrative or running away from topics I wasn’t too comfortable with.

“There are things I miss,” I hedged. “Others, though? Not really. Especially toward the end, I just had all of the ugly and none of the good.”

I stuffed my face with the food. I was going to end up having to ask for a second bottle of water. Was that acceptable behavior? I didn’t usually break into someone’s house after they’d spent hours baking for me. If there was a protocol or a script to follow, I had no idea what it looked like.

My only saving grace was that Arlene didn’t seem to have a clue, either. It would be more jarring if she did and I was the one flailing. I would’ve probably found an excuse to leave by now.

Was that why some people thought I was too callous at times?

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