It’s said that the All American Breakfast -- you know the one, eggs, bacon and a glass of juice -- was invented in the twenties to sell more bacon. Some guy did some research and there was a whole propaganda thing, convincing people it was the healthiest and best breakfast in the world, and that true Americans would eat that every day. People ate it up (the story as well as the bacon), and it became a staple of US culture. 

Randall -- Ran to his friends, Don’t Talk To Me to strangers -- knew all this. It had been on a podcast and everything. He knew that it had been a matter of not just marketing, but literal actual propaganda, that bacon was such a ubiquitous staple of his country’s food culture. He knew all that, but like, c’mon, it’s bacon. It smells good, it makes that satisfying sizzling sound, and you can have it chewy or crunchy and it tastes like… well, mostly salt, but sometimes your monkey brain really wants salt and it’s this or licking your salt lamp. 

He stirred the eggs a bit with the wooden ladle, not really because he had to but because it was something he’d seen chefs on cooking shows do. It was one of those things you did while cooking, right? It made him feel like he was actually cooking instead of just kind of staring at a pot of food, which was better than the alternative. 

The alternative was turning around and making eye-contact with the girl sitting at the table behind him, and that was too terrible a thought to think. Okay, slight exaggeration, but he didn’t deal with awkward situations very well. Pretending like he was engrossed in cooking seemed like an appropriate, realistic, and utterly acceptable way of avoiding both conflict and just kind of human interaction in general. If he didn’t say anything, things would be quiet, and he wouldn’t have t--

“Ran, right?” the woman asked, making Randall’s eye twitch, gut contract and brain go ‘prblblt’ with the terror of having to make idle conversation. There was a moment where he figured he could pretend he hadn’t heard her, but other than the fizzle of bacon, there really was no other sound in the room, and not saying anything would be really obvious, but it had been several seconds and he still hadn’t said anything, oh my god just say something it’s not even that hard. 

“Yah,” he managed. He was usually better with new people. He wasn’t usually that terrified of human contact, and he was very adept at walking through the old script of ‘Yeah, I’m looking forward to college. Experience new things, you know?’ But the girl at the table wasn’t exactly just a friend of his roommate’s. For one thing, this wasn’t the first time he’d heard her voice. He’d heard it the night before, too, when she and his roommate had been engaged in either carnal relations or the most intense game of Mario Kart. He wasn’t betting on the latter, either. 

“I’m Amelia,” Amelia said. “I hope we weren’t too loud last night.” He turned his head to look at her, but instead of the embarrassed blush he’d expected, he just saw her, perfect cheekbones and all, facing him calmly. He felt like he was being studied. He just shook his head with a little mumble and turned back to the bacon, which was on the right side of crispy, and the eggs, which were runny as hell. It’d have to do. He scooped the contents onto two plates and handed her one. “Thanks,” she said with a little smirk, again making eye contact in that gut-punch kind of way. She was pretty, he figured, but in that really queer way. She was, he figured, exactly Rachel’s type. Black lipstick, smeared after a night of intense ‘multiplayer sessions’, cheekbones that could cut glass and a jawline to shatter it with. She was also, he knew, the kind of girl that was way out of his league. Just like Rachel, come to think of it. “You always make breakfast for your roommate’s hookups, or did she put you up to this? I wasn’t that good.” She paused. “Well, maybe.” 

Ran chuckled. “I do my best to be a good host,” he said. “I don’t want to be That Guy, you know?” Amelia nodded as she chomped down on the bacon. 

“I feel you,” she said, swallowed and then grinned. “I didn’t want to be that guy so much I just stopped altogether!”

“Huh?” Ran cocked his head, his fork frozen mid-scoop.

“Wait, really?” Amelia stared at him for a few seconds, intently studying his face until he started to blush. “You really couldn’t tell, huh? I thought you were being awkward because of… Hah!” Ran had no idea what had her so tickled.

“Can’t tell what?” he asked, keeping his voice level. He didn’t like the feeling of Not Getting It, when people were laughing about something without explaining to him what was going on. 

“Down, boy,” Amelia said with the kind of smirk that would have made him weak in the knees if he hadn’t been sitting down. She had apparently picked up on the annoyance in his voice, and he blushed at being called out like it. “This really isn’t a bit, huh?” she asked one more time. He shook his head. “I’m trans, buddy. I thought that’s why you were being all…” she waved at him in general. 

“No,” he mumbled, “I’m just like this.” Amelia’s eyebrows entered the stratosphere, where they entered a stable, slightly amused orbit. 

“You don’t seem particularly happy about that,” Amelia said, sipping her OJ. “But that’s none of my business.”

“Did you just--”

“What of it?” she said, looking at him sternly and intently. “I can reference kermit if I want to.”

“You know what, that’s fair.” Ran bowed dramatically. “Forgive me.”

“You will be judged for your judgment, but not by me. God is watching and she’s a vindictive bitch.” Amelia chewed her food for a second, and then pursed her lips, looking a little guilty. “I didn’t mean to cause offense if I did.”

“You’re fine,” Ran said with a chuckle. “Do you study here?” He nodded his head in a random direction which he hoped was ‘towards campus’. Rachel and himself lived very close to the main buildings of the college, and the fairly spacious apartment was only theirs to use because his parents were wealthy enough for him to rent half of it, and Rachel’s could afford to rent out the other half. 

“Yeah,” Amelia said. “Lit student, transferred here from Arizona.” 

“My condolences.” Amelia bowed her head in gratitude. 

“Yourself?”

“Oh, just sort of piddling around until I find out what I really want to do with my life.”

“I mean, same, but I did mean more specifically.”

“For now? Coding, but I’m thinking of taking some electives in different subjects, see what sticks,” Ran said as he took both their empty plates over to the sink. This was the kind of talk he was comfortable with. He’d had that talk several dozen times in his first year as well, every time he met another student. It was an easy conversation to have, and he was grateful she wasn’t pressing him on more personal subjects. “Rachel not joining us?” he hazarded. Amelia laughed. 

“After last night? Not a chance,” she said, and Ran could feel his ears burn. “That girl isn’t waking up until this afternoon. She didn’t get a lot of sleep.” Amelia winked at him, and he felt his gut tighten up. Something about the way she’d said that made him distinctly uncomfortable. He wasn’t being flirted with. He knew that. Girls like that didn’t flirt with guys like him. It was the image her words conjured in his head, of his roommate Rachel making out with Amelia and, well, more. It made his skin itch in a way he couldn’t quite put to words. “You alright, dude?”

“I’m fine,” he said, scrubbing the plates. “Just a little uncomfortable with that kind of talk.” He hoped she’d drop the subject. She didn’t, of course.

“Sex talk?” Amelia asked. 

“Just… not very used to women having this kind of relationship with each other,” he said quietly. It was true, too. Not that he had been raised particularly Christian or with a distaste for gay people. His parents, having grown up in the 80’s, had somehow managed to embody the spirit, if not the letter, of the flower power movement. Maybe it was his way of being rebellious, but he’d never been very, well, rebellious, or experimentative. Gay people were… fine, even if thinking about them made him uncomfortable. Rachel especially. 

“You better not be homophobic, my dude.” Amelia crossed her arms. “I just decided you were chill.” Ran winced. It’s something he’d been afraid for a while. This wasn’t, after all, the first time Rachel had brought a girl home, and it wasn’t the first time he’d been uncomfortable around them. It was just weird, that there was a wealth of human experience he was precluded from. Girls loving girls in a distinctly gay way was just not something he’d ever really get to, well, experience, and he’d worried on more than one occasion that this discomfort had made him somewhat homophobic. 

“I mean, not really,” he said. “Just not used to it is all. And I don’t know how to deal with the whole…” he made a vague gesture at the whole everything, “random girl in my house in the morning.”

“So slut shaming, then?” Amelia asked, but she had a playful smirk on her face. He groaned. 

“No, that’s not… I don’t… ugh…”

“I’m fucking with you, buddy,” Amelia said. “Just try to keep an open mind, alright? Rachel’s cool as shit, I’d like to see her again, and if you turn out to treat her like an asshole I’ll have my dad beat up your dad.”

“My dad would absolutely lose,” Ran said, thinking of his scrawny dad. “But right, yeah, okay. Promise.” He sipped his water and tried not to look at her directly. 

“Good girl,” Amelia said with a grin. Ran almost choked to death on a sip of water, which would have been an unfortunate but completely understandable way for him to pass away. “Sorry,” Amelia chuckled. “Force of habit.” She winked again. “Think of it as exposure therapy.”

“Exposure therapy to what?!” Ran wheezed, trying not to drown in his own kitchen. 

“To your roommate having hella game,” Amelia said. “Like I said, she’s cool as hell, sweet as candy and hotter than… hold on, I’ll come up with something…”

“Fair enough,” Ran mumbled, still blushing and coughing. “Just… y’know… try to keep it down…” 

“No promises,” Amelia said as she stood up and stretched. Despite her being fully clothed, Ran felt like he had to look away. He just didn’t want to feel -- or look like -- a creep, especially in front of the kind of girl he’d be too scared to talk to in public. He hated the thought of being the kind of guy women crossed the street to avoid (which was why he did it preemptively when he saw them come the other way), and he hated the thought of being the guy who stared at girls. That didn’t mean it was easy, women are gorgeous. “Anyway, I should be heading out. If I wait for Rachel I’ll be here until the day is over, and I do want to shower before class tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” Ran said, standing up too as Amelia put on her coat. “Good to meet you, Amelia.” 

“You too, Ran. You seem pretty cool. You can call me Amy when you’ve earned it.” 

“When I’ve… earned it? When is that?” 

She shrugged. “Dunno. I’ll let you know.” 

“You’re different, huh?” he asked, and stuck out his hand. She looked at it for a second, then stuck out her other hand. “Oh, sorry,” he said, and shook that one.

“I’m not left handed,” Amelia said. “You just don’t want to touch the other one.” She winked again, and he heard her laughing even after he’d closed the door behind her. His cheeks were glowing, and he shook his head. 

“Bye, Amelia,” Randall mumbled to himself. “Weirdo.”

Elamimax

Welcome to Chapter 1 of Plot Twist! It's going to be a slice-of-life romance. If you know my other work, feel free to assume it's going to be about self-acceptance and non-standard relationships, as well as carry Deeper Themes like Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner. 

If you want to read more right away, a lot of it is already published on my Patreon, along with a lot of as-of-yet unpublished stuff, and even some completely exclusive works. It's not expensive, and it really does help me out a lot :) 

Other than that, I'll see you in the next one!

Heck,

Ela