1. Arlene

ONE

Arlene

I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

Damned cork board.

Damned Dylan, too. The moment I’d mentioned the ad for a trans munch at Randy’s, he’d been all over me. He’d turned it into a bet, too, because having shared a townhouse for two years now meant he knew all the ways to get me. I could be competitive.

Of course, he just happened to have a gig today, of all days. If he wasn’t such a bad liar, I would’ve pointed out how convenient it was that he couldn’t go with me. He probably did have a gig, though.

The staff at the diner had shoved a few tables together toward one of the walls, probably to avoid interfering with the flow of regular customers. The munch was RSVP-only, but most of the seats were taken already. I sneaked in to get one by a corner. I imagined the center of the elongated table would be more overwhelming. I already felt overwhelmed enough, my skin buzzing with nerves.

Dylan—and my family—disagreed, but I didn’t think I was any good at social situations. Dylan joked that I was a shy sunshine. I supposed it was true.

Shy was the keyword here.

At least I’d already written down my order when I RSVP’d so I didn’t have to ask for a Mouthful of Cookie in front of the dozen people here. I would probably implode.

It was the only drawback of Randy’s. They’d gone a little out there with the names of some of the items in their menu. Still, I’d fallen in love with the diner the second I’d seen the pink and blue lighting. Walking in for the first time had literally eased the knots in my upper back. It had felt like community in a way I’d only heard of online. A feeling I’d long ago given up on, accepted as a myth or an urban legend.

But… No. It existed at Randy’s.

“Hey!”

Shit.

I brought a hand to my chest. One would think that after more than twenty years of people scaring me by simply occupying a space, I’d have a better handle of it.

I did not.

“Hi.” There was no way my smile didn’t reveal how nervous I was, but I tried.

“It’s your first munch here, right? I’m Cin, they/them pronouns.”

Cin extended a perfectly manicured hand in my direction. I shook it out of sheer reflex. They were dressed in all black, giving goth, but they were too bubbly and happy looking. Granted, I couldn’t say I’ve been around many goths, so maybe bubbly, happy goths were the norm. It might’ve been kind of like that misconception about punks.

Sometimes I felt like I’d been too coddled growing up in comparison with most of the people I met at queer spaces.

“Yeah, I’m Arlene. She/her.”

It could get isolating.

“Love it.” Their smile was sincere, too. “Love the dress, too, by the way.”

They did?

I looked down at said dress. I always tended to feel self-conscious about my style when I met new people. They really looked sincere, though.

“Thanks. It has pockets.”

It reminded me of the cute dresses in old Hollywood movies. I wasn’t a fan of the blatant misogyny during that time, but the aesthetic kind of stuck with flowy dresses right above the knee, soft fabrics, and that feminine vibe.

Finding them was hard, but this one? With the addition of pockets? I was this close to buying it in every available color.

I could admit I had a problem.

“Work.” Cin winked. “I’m gonna go say hi to everyone, but let me know if you need anything, are uncomfortable, or… whatever, okay? I’ve got you.”

“Sure.” I wasn’t one to cause problems like that, but I didn’t say so.

Instead, I let Cin go be a social butterfly, or whatever it was they wanted to do, and I grabbed my phone from one of the pockets so I could scroll for a bit.

Having nothing to do was the absolute worst. I needed some kind of stimulation at all times. I didn’t have ADHD—my parents got me tested at one point—but… It was about feeling too aware of where I was and what my body was doing.

It was better if I didn’t leave room for that.

To be fair, the people at the munch were nice. As César, one of the servers I’d grown worryingly familiar with in the past weeks, served all the food and drink orders, others introduced themselves. They brought me into their conversations and asked about me. I snickered a few times, but full-on belly laughs were reserved for people I had built more trust with.

It was good, though. When Cin asked if they’d be seeing me at future munches, I didn’t give a definite answer, but I could see myself here. Maybe if Dylan came with me, I could loosen up more and give answers that involved more than five words at a time.

“Cin! You still here?”

Many people had approached Cin since I arrived. It made sense; they were one of the hosts. I’d been more attuned at first, raising my head to see who was who. The last half hour, I’d been too engrossed with the two kinksters next to me.

That voice, though.

It was familiar.

The second I turned, it made sense. The years had lowered it, made it raspier, but…

Shit.

My eyes widened. That was Claude of Spades. I’d watched too many of their vlogs during all-nighters in college not to recognize them.

What were the odds that they were in Boston? In Randy’s, of all places?

And that they knew Cin, too.

All the anxiety I’d started to shake out came back full force while I tried to figure it out. Last time I’d heard, Claude had been living their best influencer life in LA.

They’d disappeared, though, after a vlog that went viral for all the wrong reasons.

Ben—a better known YouTuber and their best friend—had been tight-lipped about it. Back then, I checked out their social media profiles a couple of times a week, hoping for some kind of update.

I wasn’t scared to say I’d had it bad. It was my coping mechanism while dealing with classes filled with finance bros and professors with outdated ideas on gender.

Cin must’ve noticed me looking because they gestured toward me and mouthed, “You know each other?”

Pulse in my throat, I shook my head. I knew Claude’s internet persona. Just because I got obsessed for a while there didn’t mean I was blind or unaware of how YouTube worked. Many people in the comments section were another story, though. I guess that was why Claude’s last video had blown up the way it did.

I never would’ve claimed to know anything about them. I’d just enjoyed the content. It had been the best safe space I could afford to enjoy.

Kind of what Randy’s had quickly become.

Randy’s was probably better for my mental health than rabbit holes down the lore of a dozen YouTubers. Worse for my finances, for sure, but… One couldn’t have it all.

Besides, I’d already built it into my budget, so it was fine. All under control.

“Love the vintage look,” Claude said. They were moving closer. The guy who’d been sitting to my right had already said his goodbyes and headed out. I… “I take it you’re a fan?”

Fan.

No, that wasn’t the right word, but… I supposed it was the easiest way to explain it.

“Used to be” felt like a good compromise, though I winced when I said it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel awkward.”

I cataloged the changes as they sat in the booth next to me, our legs almost touching. Their hair was dyed dark fuchsia, cut around their shoulders. I had never seen them wearing a natural color, so I supposed that had remained the same. The undercut, too.

Had they stayed on T? There was something about the set of their jaw. More angular. I wasn’t about to ask, obviously, but I wondered. I remembered they complained about access to gender affirming care.

“It’s fine. Believe it or not, you’re the first person to recognize me since I moved here.”

That, I did not expect. “Because you moved in yesterday?”

I mean, even if they’d ridden off Ben’s followers and had appeared in many of his videos, they’d never really reached his levels of fame. I was aware. But… Still. I wouldn’t have assumed they were that niche.

Claude laughed. Their voice was definitely deeper than I remembered. Not too much—others may not have even noticed—but I did.

“A few months ago. A PR agency gave me a chance as an intern, and I needed the change.”

I nodded. It made sense that they’d do something marketing-related. “I work as a financial advisor.”

What didn’t make sense was why I thought sharing that piece of information was called for.

Could I just bang my head against the table and end this conversation—which had barely started?

Thankfully—or not—Claude just smirked. “I used to have one of those.”

“Oh yeah?”

I wanted to say I didn’t squeak like a hormonal teenager caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing. Chances were I didn’t sound like a functional adult, though.

“Well, he was Ben’s, but he let me borrow him.” Their nose wrinkled then. I zeroed in on the action. They looked so young and careless when they did that. It made sense, though. One of my favorite things about Claude’s videos was the dichotomy between their dry humor and the expressive facial expressions. “I hated it.”

“I’m sure I have clients who share that sentiment.”

Great line, Arlene . Good job.

Claude laughed again, so that was… good, though, wasn’t it? I really should’ve made more of an effort in all those bars when Dylan offered to be my wingman. First impressions, first conversations? Not my thing.

Never had been, and it only got worse with age.

“Did you wanna keep talking? I just ordered fries, and I asked for extra, but I probably won’t be able to finish them.”

“Uh, sure. Okay.”

Needless to say, I was in shock, but… Claude, my stupid Internet crush for more reasons than I could count, was asking me to share fries with them.

No, I was not hungry. I did not care.

Even if those hormone-inducing feelings weren’t there, Claude was interesting. There were so many things I wanted to ask, to talk about. I’d always been fascinated by the world they used to live in.

“Great.” As they stood up, they spared a glance in Cin’s direction. “I’m also saving you from their spiel to join the local kink club. It’s a whole thing.”

“Huh?”

“Unless you were interested?” Claude tilted their head to the side, looking me up and down. Yeah, imploding was definitely on the menu for today. “I’m sorry. I people watch a lot, and you didn’t look completely comfortable. I assumed?—”

“No, it’s fine.” I stopped them from talking for two reasons. One, it wasn’t completely true. Two, I didn’t want to risk Cin overhearing or getting the wrong idea. They’d been so nice , and my being overwhelmed was… well, a me problem. “They already wanted to know if I’ll be coming back.”

“Will you?”

They started leading the way to their table as they spoke.

“Probably,” I admitted. “Maybe if I get my roommate to join me.”

Claude seemed to regard me for a second. “You’re one of those people who need a clutch, aren’t you?”

Uh… should I be offended?

“What do you mean?”

They just groaned.

“Sorry, sorry. Julian keeps saying it’s funny how I have no way with words.” They rolled their eyes at some memory I wasn’t privy to. I knew who Julian was, obviously—Ben’s boyfriend, and the other half of one of the longest-lasting queer couples online. But Julian wasn’t in many videos, and he definitely did not talk a lot when he was there. “I just mean… There are different kinds of introverts, right? There are the ones who… stay introverted, I guess. Then there are the ones who are introverted at first, but then you give them some time, and boom , they suddenly don’t shut up. And the ones who benefit from a third person to move from introvert to not shutting up.”

Huh.

I guess I was that, then. My cheeks still heated up, though. Was it a good thing, a bad thing… a neutral observation? I couldn’t tell.