Page 6 of Temptation at Randy's

“Yeah.” Arlene smiled then. Her smile lit up her whole face, even when she tried to dim it as if it was something to feel self-conscious about. “He’s pretty great. He’s even looking into expanding to do some pro-bono stuff.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

It was. Bio families were a complicated subject for me. When someone—someone trans, especially—had a supportive family? I was sucked in, hard.

“Yeah,” Arlene agreed easily between bites of her food. She took tiny bites, I noticed. “I kind of feel guilty sometimes, that I’m basically a nepo baby, but…”

“We gotta do what we gotta do. I get it.”

I wasn’t a fan of all the content I’d put out online, either, or all the brand deals I’d signed. Thankfully, none of those had been the problematic kind, just the cringe kind, but it didn’t make it much better. Some people could look past it, but a part of me never managed. I supposed that was why I never made it big, either.

“Yeah.” Arlene chuckled. “Fuck capitalism, right?”

“I didn’t know financial advisors could say that, but… Fuck yeah.”

I would toast to it if I had anything other than lemonade. And if she had a drink.

Shit. I should ask if she wanted something to drink.

Maybe Julian had a point every time he said I was a terrible host. Well, not really—he just said it because I let the two of them fetch for themselves, in a house they’d been at a million times. But whatever.

“Is it bad that…” The woman was blushing before she’d even asked the question. Not that I needed her to. “I kind of want to ask about that video?”

Yeah, she didn’t need to specify more than that. I winced. I’d had years to think about it now, to reflect, and have the perfect response at hand.

I still didn’t like it. “It was a combination of a million different things and the worst possible timing.”

That was an understatement.

“I never got involved with the comments or any of that.” She definitely didn’t look the type, so I hadn’t even considered it. “But, yeah, it felt… messy.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” I scoffed. “I just… I definitely went about it wrong, in more ways than one, but I do believe it would’ve always had a negative reaction no matter what, and… it sucks.”

It sucked because clickbait and strategies aside—I’d beat myself over that Am I still asexual? title for years—that video was still one of the most honest things I’d posted online.

“What do you mean?” Arlene frowned. She must’ve noticed the reticence in my face. “I mean, sorry, you don’t have to answer.”

I didn’t precisely love going into detail about it. I was still getting the hang of being vulnerable around people. Playing a persona where I was nice and approachable and witty was easy enough. By now, it almost felt real. With some people, it really was. Being vulnerable was another matter altogether.

“No, I get it.” It was all people wanted to talk about. I… did not. Then again… “Maybe ask me again when there are some of those cheesecake bars in front of me?”

I did have a sweet tooth.

“Really?” Her eyes glistened when she asked.

…Yeah, I’d just technically asked her on a date. Or something.

Was this what people meant about sapphic dating being messy?

I wasn’t usually the one who took charge. Then again, my experience in LA was all but nonexistent, and here… I’d tried a few apps, thinking I was safe, and I might as well experiment and explore those parts of myself I was coming to terms with.

The theory had sounded good.

The practice? Not that great.

No horror stories to tell—which, yeah, I knew I was lucky—but I wasn’t sure that was an achievement per se, if there weren’t any outstanding stories, either.

So far, it all had been very take it or leave it.

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