03

tw: weed, sexual content, birthday, unintentional transphobia due to lack of education

It’s been a little under three weeks since the “Mindy Fiasco”, as Xana and Samara have been calling it, and Caesar is a little more than miserable without the distraction from his life that was Jordan. There goes his plug, his shoulder to cry on, and his dick to suck-- three things Caesar either can’t or doesn’t trust himself enough to get from Xana and Sam.

Caesar, well, he’s tried. He’s tried to fix his shit on his own, he’s even begged Jordan over text, but he can’t distract himself from his ‘inevitable’ failure at school and his friendships; it’s happened before, so why couldn’t it happen now? It’s not as if his family was sabotaging those things, not at all!

But, regardless, Caesar is… Here. November thirteenth, his nineteenth birthday. His nineteenth year on this earth, and not even halfway through his first year of independence. His first birthday away from his family, and yet he’s managing to feel more at home smoking with Xana and Samara than he ever did with father and cross-country siblings doting on him.

He sits on the bar stool at his kitchen island, hunched over Xana’s bright-pink bong as he listens to her and Samara talk. Apparently, Samara’s been being hit on by one of her professors, and neither her or Xana are particularly pleased about that. Caesar pulls away from the bong, coughing once, twice, before passing it along to Samara.

From the kitchen table just behind and a little bit to the left of the kitchen island, a little ways away, Xana says, “Caesar. I have the perfect rebound boy for you.”

Caesar turns to face Xana, only to have her shove her phone in his face. Oh, wow. Okay, he’s… Interesting.

On the screen is a boy, that’s for sure. His hair, shaved on the sides, is long and obviously bleached, toned silver on the tips. He has a heart tattoo under his left eye, apparently right over a cheek piercing. Odd, but not bad. His chin is scruffy, his smile is wolfish, the bridge of his nose is pierced, and his ears are-- wow, that is a lot of earrings and a big gauge. His septum seems to be stretched, too, which Caesar is honestly a bit impressed by.

After a moment of taking in the guy’s appearance, Caesar turns to Xana. “Um… Are you sure he’s my type? He’s--”

“Amazing. Benji gives the best rebound sex, Caesar-- back before he came out to me and we thought he was a girl, we slept together after I broke up with my first ex, and it was mindblowing. And that was three years ago! Imagine what he can do now!” Xana laughs, despite Caesar’s reddening face. He doesn’t quite process the ‘when we thought he was a girl’ part-- that’s just a normal thing, right?

“I know he looks a little funky,” Sam says, nudging the bong back to Caesar, “but he’s a real sweetheart. He has snakes. Like, twenty. And he’ll probably give you a free tattoo if you’re nice to him.”

Caesar takes the bong and passes it to Xana, worrying his lower lip. “I don’t know. I’m not really the, uh, rebound type? Or the one night stand type?”

“Buuut you’re the fuck-a-married-man type. It isn’t that different! Just pretend Benji’s Jordan. With a pussy.” Xana laughs as she says this, taking the bong from Caesar with a grin.

“Huh?”

Xana snorts, nearly choking. “He’s trans.”

“...What?” Oh, Caesar, you poor cis soul. “Like, uh. Caitlyn Jenner?”

This time Samara’s the one to laugh, since Xana’s too busy hitting the bong. “Oh, baby. I mean, I guess? Just, uh the other way around.”

Caesar pulls a bit of a face. “So he’s…”

“He is trans. Still a he. Everyone just thought he was a chick for a bit, you know?” Xana says, voice a bit hoarse as she passes Caesar the bong again. “He’s still a guy, and you wouldn’t be any less gay if you fucked him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Caesar ’huh’s. “Okay. I’ll, uh. Have to look into that, huh?”

Xana coos. “You are so cute, stringbean.”

Caesar’s face goes even redder than it already was. “Thanks, Xan. So, uh. Is he. Is he interested in me?” This ‘Benji’ is pretty cute, after all.

“Oh, very much so. I sent him a candid pic,” Sam says with a giggle. “He says you look like a sad blonde emo with glasses and he appreciates that very much.” She pauses. “Oh, and? Guess what?”

“What?” Caesar looks a tad cautious, but he’s smiling still despite it.

“He’s British.” Samara feigns shock, putting one hand on the kitchen island and the other on her heart. “Whenever he speaks, it’s like music to my little American ears!” she says, quite dramatic.

Caesar gives a little puff of laughter. “Okay. Uh, you can give him my number if you want.”

“Oh, already done,” Xana says. “Warning. He likes phone calls.”

Caesar, about to take a hit, grimaces. “Ew. Who does phone calls these days?”

“Millennial Brits,” Sam says.

“Oh, he’s not a millennial, Sam, he’s gen-Z just like us," Xana coos.

"Wait." Caesar holds up a finger, takes a hit and then continues. "How old is he?"

"Twenty-two," Xana and Sam say in unison.

Caesar presses his lips together as he slides the bong back to Samara. "Didn't you say age gaps were bad, Xana?"

Xana quirks a brow. "I said power imbalance was bad, stringbean. Benj doesn't have any of that, because he's a dirty hippy stoner just like us. Jordan, though, is a CFO with a child. See the difference?"

Caesar rolls his eyes, ignoring Samara's coughing from behind him. "Whatever. Thank you, Xan, Sam. I'll text him."

Sam squeals, going to give Caesar a hug. He yelps, but doesn't fight it-- what is it with people with purple hair and smelling like grapes? He just chuckles, a bit awkward as he pats her back. God, what has he just agreed to?