Love Addict's RPG Ch. 31

I didn't think I would but I split the chapter into two. Will edit what is now 32 in a bit.

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You almost couldn't tell that Stacy and Oliver just had a tense, verbal standoff, at least when talking about Stacy. The young woman had no small amount of pep in her step as she guided Oliver through the streets of Vista Venus, her designer handbag swinging from her hips. She was still smiling, excited to play dress up with her new toy, no doubt.

Oliver remained unnerved by his present company, but at least she didn't insist on making constant small talk as they went. He never thought he would see the day when he and Stacy went out on the town together in the hopes of giving him a trendy makeover, let alone the fact that he was the one who asked for it. In his opinion, this was somehow the weirdest thing that had happened to him all week, even topping the sudden manifestation of psychic dating sim powers.

Stacy led him to a little strip mall where a medium-sized men's salon simply named Cuts was sandwiched between one of the city's thousands of marijuana dispensaries and an acupuncture clinic. The bell attached to the door rang as Stacy ushered Oliver inside. The lobby section was lined with massive posters of beautiful men with attractive hairstyles and shelves upon shelves of hair products ranging from shampoo and conditioner to brushes and even high-grade hair dye.

Just like entering the art store with Mia or the fitness store with Bradley, this was yet another world that Oliver knew absolutely nothing about. He was less interested in learning how to look good than he was in art or even exercising, but style was one of his four stats, and he couldn't get around that. Maybe he would come to appreciate this kind of thing in time, but Oliver felt small and significantly out of place here for now.

The person at the front counter was a handsome, clean-shaven man wearing subtle lipstick and eyeshadow. He looked a few years older than Oliver, probably in his mid-upper twenties. His eyes lit up when he saw Stacy, and he left his station to go and greet her, spreading his arms wide open in expectation of an embrace. "Well, well, well... look what the cat finally dragged in. Bring it in, girlfriend!"

"Jordan! Sup, bitch?" Stacy brightened up as she gave her friend the hug. "Sorry I'm late. Long story."

Jordan peered over her shoulder to look at Oliver, his innocent eyes full of curiosity. "I'm gonna guess your Make-A-Wish kid over there has something to do with it?"

"More like everything to do with it," Stacy giggled as she disengaged. "Oliver, this is Jordan-"

"Hey," the awkward recluse managed, struggling with the sheer amount of high energy they radiated.

"Jordan, this is your next mission, should you choose to accept it."

Jordan, a tall, handsome, effeminate white man with a wavy haircut rivaling any of the models on display, made Oliver significantly uncomfortable. Even more so as he took a step forward, cupped his chin, and narrowed his eyes to size up the task before him. It wasn't that Oliver was bothered by the guy's appearance or presumed lifestyle- it took a miracle to grow up in this city and somehow wind up a homophobe- more so that overly familiar and friendly people rubbed Oliver the wrong way.

That was the main reason Oliver barely got his haircut. Whoever opened the first silent barbershop where barbers didn't make inane chit-chat would be a millionaire in the current socially withdrawn modern era.

"Sure, I think I can work with this," Jordan eventually expressed after much internal deliberation. "Nice to meet you, sweetheart. Are you doing okay? You're looking a little shaky. Need some water? A mint? Legal advice on getting a restraining order to stop mean old witches from kidnapping you off the street?"

"Oh my Gawd," Stacy huffed. "I didn't drag him anywhere. He asked for my help!"

Oliver smirked slightly, suddenly thinking that Jordan wasn't so bad. "I'll take you up on that last one if I have to, thanks. She's telling the truth, though. I'm guessing it's pretty obvious, but I don't put much effort into how I look, and I want to change that."

Jordan nodded along, his smile brightening. "Well, Stace brought you to the right place. Let's see what Cuts can do for you."

Jordan brought Oliver and Stacy into the back where all the action happened. There were eight little walled-off cubicles where stylists did their thing. Three were already occupied, and on their way to an empty stall, Oliver noticed that the other employees were men cut from the same cloth as Jordan, as were the clients. Like he didn't already feel out of place enough as it was.

Oliver sat on the big, comfy chair and looked at himself in the mirror. His long black hair fell down his face in shaggy, unkempt locks. It made him look like he didn't care much about anything, which was true enough. He didn't know what was about to happen to him, and the anticipation was making him a little nervous.

Stacy and Jordan started talking about the game plan without him.

"I'm thinking something short, but not too short," Stacy said, finger on her lip as she stared at Oliver's reflection in the mirror. "He's not tall or jacked enough to pull anything super macho off."

"Gee, thanks," Oliver grumbled.

"Just telling it how it is," she smirked, reaching around the headrest to play with one of his stupidly long bangs. He blushed and swatted her hand away.

"She's right, sweetheart," Jordan lifted up some of Oliver's hair to get a better look at his face. Because Jordan was a professional, Oliver didn't mind this. It also helped that he wasn't Stacy. "Underneath the incel basement dweller thing you got going on, there's a decently cute and boyish face. You want to lean into that instead of trying to rock something like a crewcut."

Oliver mentally cringed at that description but trusted the advice and said to go for it. Jordan and Stacy then convened behind his back. Picking up a few hairstyle magazines scattered around the workstation, they flipped through the pages and bickered. There were many petty jabs mixed between their discussion, which Oliver found mildly amusing, mainly because Jordan had a talent for getting an irritated reaction out of Stacy.

Eventually, they narrowed it down to ten different options that they pitched Oliver, explaining the merits and downsides of each. Most of the models had faces similar to his own, and the hairstyles they sported all helped draw attention to their youthfulness. Though he didn't have much of a sense for these things, there was one that Oliver felt drawn to more than the rest.

"I think I'll go with that one," Oliver said, pointing to one of the magazines Stacy was holding up. His choice positively thrilled her, so much so that a notification appeared.

--- Stacy Gained 1 Affection! ---

"Suck my dick, bitch! I fucking told you he'd go for it" Stacy smirked triumphantly.

Jordan rolled his eyes. "Broken clock, twice a day, blah, blah..."

Oliver inexplicably felt a little pang of satisfaction at seeing Stacy's affection meter lower closer to zero, even if it was a single digit. Before he could try gaslighting himself into writing off his legitimate feelings, she reached over the chair and casually placed her hand on his shoulder, her smile softening. "Just you wait, Ollie. You're going to look amazing."

"... Hope so," Oliver mumbled, distracted by Stacy's reflection.

Christ, that smile of hers...

For a split second, Stacy was so blindingly pretty and perfect that it was almost enough for Oliver to forget that she was the initial domino that tore his life apart. He wasn't even being shallow; it was just that there was something supernatural about how pretty she was. Fuck. Greece went to war with Troy the last time the world had someone even half as beautiful as Stacy.

She never looked like this at work, which Oliver thanked God for. All it took was a throwaway smile to make him feel this way, which scared him deeply. It only lasted for a few seconds, but Oliver felt like his heart would still be reeling from this for weeks. He tried thinking about Mia to ground himself, but that only made him feel guilty.

Thankfully, they went straight back into talking about the haircut.

Oliver had chosen a not-so-short, wavy style and would need a perm and a lot of advice on maintaining it. It wasn't the most difficult one he could've went with, it but wasn't the easiest, either. He wasn't sure it would look good on him, but the important thing was that it might match Mia's type. Many villains she liked had short, wavy hair to emphasize their wildness. Might as well give the girl what she wanted.

The downside was that this process would take him a lot longer than an ordinary haircut, but he was already in this deep. Might as well go all the way. The actual haircut was quick enough, while the perm would take around two and a half hours. Throughout the process, all kinds of shit was done to him that he didn't initially understand. Jordan and Stacy kept up with the advice, though, since as Oliver's goal was to start looking better from now on, he needed to at least have a vague understanding of what was happening.

After getting thoroughly washed, his hair was divided into four parts, strands were rolled around small rods, and an alkaline perm solution was sprayed onto his hair when he was ready. He then had to wait while the rods and the solution did their job. Throughout this long and arduous process, Jordan and Stacy made small talk. The good thing was that it didn't involve him most of the time, aside from obligatory attempts to make him feel included.

Oliver couldn't have contributed much, even if he wanted to, anyway.

Apparently, Cuts was a relatively popular gay salon whose owner also owned a drag club, and the reason Stacy came to see Jordan was so they could discuss makeup, wigs, and costume ideas for an upcoming competition he was entering. Oliver felt bad when he discovered that Jordan was supposed to be off duty and was now staying past his shift to do a three-hour-plus session for Oliver's sake, but Jordan insisted it was fine and that they would just have their brainstorming discussion while he worked.

It turned out that Stacy was very into the drag scene, enjoying reality TV shows revolving around the topic and name-dropping many of her other friends who were also performers. It was interesting to learn about a subculture he knew nothing about, even if he had nothing of value to say whenever Stacy showed him a potential outfit and asked whether or not Jordan would look good in it.

Somehow, Oliver was able to mildly enjoy his time getting a perm. Given that he expected to suffer every extended second he spent in Stacy's company, that said something.

It was odd.

He'd spent so long building up this idea of Stacy in his head of her being a trashy slut who liked stupid shit like 'fashion' and 'boys' that it shocked him to discover she wasn't the NPC he wrote her off as- that she was a real person who differed drastically from the mental effigy of her he'd built for so long. This cognitive dissonance made him feel like he needed a long chat with his therapist for the first time in over a year, and he grew quieter and quieter as a result.

He only snapped out of it after everything was over and the final perm rod had been removed. Stacy placed her hands on his shoulders from behind and leaned in, her face hovering over his head as she looked into the mirror at Oliver's reflection.

"Hot damn," she exclaimed. "That looks even better than I thought it would! What do you think, Ollie? Was I right, or was I right?"

--- Stacy Gained 1 Affection! ---

The notification gave him a much-needed dopamine shot, and Oliver looked at himself in utter disbelief as he ran a hand through his now-curly hair. He didn't understand what he was looking at. It felt like he blinked and somehow became a different person by the time he opened his eyes again.

"You were right," he freely admitted, blushing a little. "I... don't even recognize myself right now..."

"In a good way, I hope?" Jordan asked, hopeful to celebrate a job well done.

"In a very good way, yeah. You did a great job, Jordan. I can't thank you enough. It's gonna take me a while to get used to this, but hell, even I think it looks awesome, and I don't know shit."

"You'll get used to it, sweetheart. It suits you. My biggest piece of advice would be to smile more, but something tells me that's easier said than done."

"A little, yeah..." Oliver laughed weakly.

Stacy suddenly spun the chair around so that he faced the two of them. "That's phase one, then," she said triumphantly. "Not a bad start, but it won't mean jack unless you do something about your clothes."

"Amen," Jordan agreed, looking like he had plenty to say on the topic.

Oliver stood up, enjoying how the open air felt on his face, which was now finally free of his bangs. "This took a lot longer than I was expecting. Are you still up for it?"

"I already said I'd help you out, didn't I?" Stacy smiled politely. "I'm not gonna quit on you now while the job's only half done... unless we need to. You holding up okay?"

Oliver read that as, 'Can you still stand being around me for a little while longer?' and he found himself looking into her deep blue eyes, searching for the answer. "For the most part. I'm good to go if you are."

"Then it's settled!" Stacy had that look in her eyes again, the one of unbridled excitement. She'd never given someone a makeover who needed it half as bad as Oliver, and she was clearly having the time of her life.

Stacy all but dragged him to the front desk where Jordan gave Oliver the bill. As expected, this didn't come cheap, and it didn't help that Oliver felt Jordan earned a modest tip for staying well past his shift to help him out.

--- Spent $80 ---

That was okay. The results were more than worth it, and Oliver assumed that whatever clothing Stacy picked out for him would likely be the same.

Jordan, now finally done with his shift, took his leave and wished Oliver good luck. He would've loved to have stuck around and helped out, but his boyfriend was waiting for him, and he was already running late.

That kind of sucked. Oliver thought he was a pretty nice guy, and his presence helped a lot with Stacy, but it was back to being just the two of them.

"So..." Oliver spoke up, walking side-by-side with his once tormentor. "Where are you taking me next?"

"There's a place called New Digs, it's a few blocks away. Been there a few times to pick up some gifts for friends of mine. It's not cheap, but they won't drain your wallet dry, either. How much were you thinking of spending?"

That was a good question. Oliver usually bought his clothes from cheap superstores and had no idea what kind of price he should realistically expect. "A hundred?"

Stacy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at him like he'd just told her he'd shit his pants.

"...Two?"

"Better, but..."

Oliver let out a deep sigh. When he left his apartment that afternoon, he figured it would be to spend ten bucks on coffee. Not several hundred on a total fashion makeover. That said, he still had a little over a thousand dollars, got paid daily, didn't need to pay any of his daily expenses, and hey, he could always take Bradley up on his offer to share some of his ratcatcher profits, too.

He could take the hit.

"Three hundred is as much as I'm willing to spend."

"Good, that's the minimum that I was gonna recommend," Stacy nodded in approval, then her eyes turned curious as she looked him over. "Gotta say, though, you're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Did me volunteering to hang out with you for half the day not already give you that impression?" Oliver asked. The strangest thing happened, and he caught himself sounding halfway teasing.

It got a laugh out of her, a cute one. Awkward, though. The tension between them was still there despite the three-hour haircut and perm. "You got me there. I'm just wondering where it came from, that's all. I never would've believed it a week ago if someone told me you were going to start trying to look like you gave a damn about yourself."

Oliver didn't owe Stacy an explanation, but she was going to an awful damn lot of trouble for his sake. He didn't see anything wrong in alluding to the truth. On the contrary, it was the polite thing to do.

"There's someone I want to look nicer for," Oliver looked away, predictably blushing. "I'm not much to look at, but I figured I could at least do this."

Stacy raised an eyebrow, wondering quietly to herself, "Interesting. Did she actually make a move...?" She then crossed her arms and leaned into his personal space. "Good on you for taking some initiative, but you really gotta knock it off with all this constant negativity. You're a hell of a lot cuter than you give yourself credit for."

Oliver lit up redder than a firework, recoiling a step back. "Uh-"

"Oh, spare me," she rolled her eyes. "I don't mean anything by it, I'm not, like, coming onto you or anything, I'm just telling you the truth. You are perfectly fine to look at. More than fine. The only unattractive things about you were the school shooter haircut and the defeatist attitude. Hell, as goofy as the hair gel and bomber jacket were back in the day, you rocked the shit out of those because at least you were trying."

A couple seconds of awkward silence passed as Oliver struggled to compartmentalize the praise he'd received from the person he supposedly hated most in the entire world. What the fuck even was today? Here he was, blushing and getting all emotional because Stacy called him cute. 'Surreal' didn't even begin to cover it.

He couldn't think of anything clever or heartfelt to say in response, so he mumbled a generic thank you, and Stacy left it at that.