Love Addict's RPG Ch. 30

Sunday, February 18th

One beer and gun-wielding, oiled-up muscleman movie later, Oliver awoke the following day to find his body feeling better than ever. Not only were his aches and pains a thing of the past, but in their place was a profound sensation of sturdiness. He ran his hands across his arms and chest, testing what he felt. His skin felt firm once it was soft, which was odd given that he didn't have any noticeable muscle definition yet, but Oliver would take what he could get.

The first thing he did that morning was test it out. He did some push-ups, some ab crunches, and a couple reps with his dumbbells. Astonishingly, he didn't break so much as a sweat. Physical Conditioning Lv. 1 was a purchase Oliver didn't regret making, and he could already see how much utility it would give him in the long run. He wondered how much stronger the effect would get if he spent 50LP to increase its level, but as it was, it seemed like it was more than enough.

He'd texted Mia before bed last night. Her brother Julio was in good condition, and the pinky was deemed salvageable. Apparently, the cut wasn't as deep as she'd made it sound, and a few stitches were all he needed, that and a cast he'd have to wear for a few weeks. Not a bad trade-off, considering they expected it to regain full mobility.

Oliver shot her a text before breakfast, and when she didn't respond, he assumed this meant she was busy with family stuff like she warned him about. No big deal. It only reinforced his plans for the day. As soon as he was done eating and going through his morning routine, he cracked open his brand-new sketchbook at eleven and fired up some extremely basic drawing tutorials on his laptop.

He gave it a solid go, lasting for around three hours before he just couldn't continue. It wasn't that he was terrible at it, though he was; it was that using his brain in a way he was utterly unused to using it proved more taxing than he could've expected.

Oliver followed along with the videos as best he could, creating crude imitations of basic anime and videogame characters he was familiar with using his shaky, unskilled hands. After a few pages of that, he tried some more serious tutorials, learning basic things like how to construct and shade simple shapes like cubes and cylinders, which were evidently the building blocks of perspective drawing, whatever that meant.

Oliver was proud of what he had accomplished and wanted to continue later in the day, but it wouldn't happen without a break and coffee.

Because of how many damn coffee shops there were in his city, Oliver had a habit of going to random ones near his house when he needed a pick-me-up. There were fifteen within five blocks, most of them of a similar quality level. It rarely made a difference which one he visited, so he spun his phone and slammed his finger down, picking the nearest one to where it landed.

Galaxy Brew it was, then.

He could've driven there in half a second, but Oliver wanted his break to last longer than that. Maybe it was arrogance over his new strength or because Bradley was impacting him, but he wasn't as paranoid about the homeless people as usual. He passed several of them while he walked, and true enough, they were minded their own business.

The main thing on his mind was the same thing it usually was as of the last couple of days: Mia. Oliver blushed while thinking about what happened. She was on his bed yesterday, as surreal as it was to recall. He wouldn't have believed it if someone told him a week ago he'd be on the verge of dating his coworker, but maybe she was onto something, and this was a long time coming.

Sighing out of contentment, Oliver opened the front entrance to Galaxy Brew, where a notification and a surprising situation were waiting for him.

--- Lucky!

A chance to play the hero.

---

The coffee shop was empty save for a seedy-looking barista leaning over the counter and sporting a punchable grin as he openly gawked at the sole customer. A bead of sweat ran down Oliver's brow, obnoxious pop music blaring within his brain. Of all the shops his finger could've landed next to...

"Come on, babe," the dude petitioned in a slimy voice. "All I want is your number. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Do I really have to keep spelling it out for you? Really? Fine. Have it your way. I'll go nice and slow so you can follow along. Not. Fucking. Interested. You. Amoeba-dicked. Loser." Stacy hissed, eyes blazing like she was about to reach across the counter and slit the man's throat with her long, painted nails.

Oliver watched her from the doorway, neither Stacy nor the barista having noticed him yet.

Running into Stacy wasn't lucky. It was the goddamn polar opposite. He wasn't going to get involved and certainly had no intention of playing hero. Not like she needed it, anyway. He'd watched her tear apart tons of assholes like this before. This guy wouldn't last more than a second once he'd really pissed her off.

"Come on," the barista rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "I'll even throw in a coupon for next time."

"I already paid before you went and pulled with this shit," Stacy's voice grew dire. "Give me my order, or let me speak to the manager."

"Whoa there, Karen," he laughed her off. "I'm just playing around. Manager called in sick today, anyway, so what's the rush? You and I can figure this out."

This guy was more persistent than most. He wasn't taking the hint, and it seemed like the guy was holding her order hostage. Between the leverage he had over her and the way he could bounce her barbed insults off like they were no big deal, the barista stood up to Stacy for a lot longer than guys in his position usually lasted. Evidently, she wasn't used to that.

Oliver couldn't believe it, but she was actually starting to look a little upset. Must've felt bad, running into someone she couldn't instantly tear apart. Not that he cared, since Stacy had probably done something to deserve this, somehow...

"The only thing we're gonna figure out is how hard my boyfriend can kick your ass as soon as he meets me here, so if you don't want that to happen-"

The barista blew a raspberry. "You don't have a boyfriend."

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Girl like you, dressed like that?" He eyed Stacy's ensemble. Denim booty shorts. A cut-off top that exposed her midriff below and pink bra straps above. Silver gladiator heels running all the way up to her knee. He laughed. "No way. You're obviously looking for some fun. Feel free to prove me wrong, though. Call him, and I'll pretend this whole thing never happened and give you your coffee."

Stacy had her phone in her hand, but she hesitated. Her fist was clenched so hard around it that her fingers started turning red. There was a faint sparkle in her eyes.

...Tears?

Oliver walked straight up to Stacy, casually placing his hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Sorry I'm late, honey."

Stacy was confused. Extremely confused- but the barista didn't notice her initial reaction. At the drop of a hat, she snapped into an act ten times more convincing than Mia's the other day. Her entire personality changed into that of a bubbly, lovey-dovey airhead obsessed with her man.

"Babe!" Stacy threw her arms around Oliver, squealing. "Fucking finally! I thought you'd never show up!"

---

Milestone achieved! Hugged Stacy +10LP

---

Oliver paid no mind to the notification. He was deeply uncomfortable being so close to Stacy like this, but that didn't matter. He couldn't properly explain why it didn't, only that getting her out of this situation was what did.

"Sorry, thought it was earlier than it was. Everything okay?"

"Listen, Ollie, this jerk just took my order and said he wouldn't give it to me unless I gave him my number! I already paid and everything!" Stacy whined. "Get this, he even tried slut-shaming me for dressing up the way you like!"

"...That so?" He narrowed his eyes, which were twitching at how unnecessary that last comment was. Worse was the chest pressing against him- the one noticeably larger than Mia's. Oliver looked at the barista to distract himself, glaring as best he could. "You better get my girlfriend her order if you know what's good for you."

The creepy barista didn't know how to react. He was partially annoyed about the current obstacle Oliver presented, but he was also amused. "Yeah, whatever, shrimp. What are you going to do about it? Come over here and make me?"

Oliver disengaged from Stacy, leaning over the counter and refusing to give this asshat an inch. "You think I won't?" He tried playing it up, putting some venom in his voice. "Call me a shrimp however much you want because I'll let you in on a little secret. Short guys like me? We get shit from people like you our whole lives, and there's nothing better than the look on your faces when we knock you flat on your ass right after taking us lightly."

You wouldn't typically describe Oliver as a threatening person. He was a dark, gloomy guy who blended into the background, but most people understood that those kinds of guys could be the most unsettling of all from time to time. Projecting himself as unhinged worked like a charm. The barista wasn't outright scared of Oliver, but he did get the sense that this wasn't worth fucking around and finding out.

"Whatever," he exhaled, throwing his hands up. "Shows what I get for trying to be nice."

"Nice, huh? What would be really nice is if you threw in another cup on the house for the shit you tried to pull." Oliver insisted, then to rub salt in the wound, he added, "I'll have what my girlfriend's having."

The man glared angrily back at Oliver, but when that didn't work, he shrugged it off and mumbled some vaguely misogynistic comments while preparing Stacy's order and an additional cup. In the meantime, Stacy stared at Oliver as she continued to embrace him. She was trying not to show it, but she was deeply impressed by the spine he'd just demonstrated.

Oliver didn't notice, as he was trying to avoid looking at her as much as he could.

He only had to endure the torture for another few seconds as the barista finished up and handed over two large espressos with more whipped cream than coffee and what looked like a barrel's worth of caramel drizzle on top of it. He didn't say a word, nor did she as they took their drinks and left.

The second they left the building, Oliver disengaged from Stacy and took a few steps away, breathing heavily. He looked at his coffee and then at her, wondering why he'd even done what he had just done. The strangest part of it was the way she was looking at him. Stacy was smiling, her eyes half-lidded in amusement. The smile looked like it could have been genuine, but Oliver somehow doubted that.

"Let's not make a big thing about this," he turned around and tried to walk away. "I'll just leave it at 'your welcome' and be on my way."

"Mn, no, I don't think so, babe," Oliver's escape attempt was blocked by Stacy hooking the back of his shirt's neckline on her finger and yanking. "Where in the hell did that come from?"

Accepting that he had to interact with her a little bit, he shrugged his shoulders and turned to face her. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"I'll say," Stacy laughed. "God, like, the sheer fucking levels of irony at play here just boggles my mind..."

"Maybe instead of waxing nostalgic, you could try thanking me?"

"Why'd you think I stopped you from bailing?" Her expression turned a tad grumpy. "I was getting there."

Oliver didn't say anything in response, trying to get her to speed it up so he could get out of there. She got the message but didn't appreciate it, one of her perfect brows wrinkling in mild annoyance.

Stacy looked off to the left, her cheeks reddened beneath the thick shroud of makeup on her face. "That... wasn't half bad back there," she said. "Thanks, Oliver."

--- Stacy Gained 1 Affection! ---

...That was it?

Oliver stared at her, a mix of confused and insulted. He didn't mean to think highly of himself, but he felt his impulsive act of kindness was worth a little more than that. Then he forced himself not to think about it, realizing it almost sounded like he wanted to see Stacy's affection for him increase when, in reality, he couldn't care less.

Sure, the embarrassed look on Stacy's face was cute, and it might've made his heart skip a beat, but that didn't really mean anything. His heart skipped a beat over the tiniest shit that cute girls did. It was just how he was wired.

"I just think it's funny how you still can't keep your nose out of other people's business," Stacy commented, shaking off her conflicting emotions.

"You looked like you needed help."

"Pretty sure I had it covered."

"Pretty sure you didn't."

Stacy frowned. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough to see you tearing up," Oliver started walking away. He closed his eyes in frustration as the sound of heels clicking on the pavement trailed behind him.

"I didn't fucking- ugh-" Stacy grumbled, then shook her head. "Okay, maybe I'm having an off day, and I let someone get under my skin. So what? I'm not perfect."

"This must be devastating news to you," he quipped, looking over her shoulder. She took the joke in stride, to his surprise, and let out a begrudging laugh.

"Why are you following me?"

Stacy's expression tensed, then softened, going back and forth between the two extremes as if she couldn't decide. She settled on soft as she said, "Because I'm trying to thank you for being nice to me, and you're being a total asshole about it."

Oliver wished she hadn't made that face. "You can thank me by leaving me alone."

"Sit down and have coffee with me," Stacy commanded, seemingly out of nowhere.

"...Why?"

"Why not? Would it be so hard to chill for a few minutes and give socializing with me a shot?"

It definitely would, and he knew that she knew it would, so Oliver wasn't entirely sure why she was so insistent. "I thought you were waiting for your boyfriend?"

Stacy scoffed at the notion. "As if. Have you seen the men in the city? That douchebag back there is the fucking norm, and I've never wasted my time with a single one of them."

That was a little surprising. "Never?"

"Never," Stacy sighed. Her expression turned distant- eyes narrowing, frown deepening.

Oliver hadn't seen her look like that before and was tricked into feeling sympathetic, if only for a second. "Bad experiences?"

"I..." Stacy started, then trailed off. Frustrated, she walked towards a vacant bench on the sidewalk outside a flower shop, took a long sip of her espresso, and gazed into the middle distance. "Yeah... something like that." Her hand briefly brushed the golden heart-shaped locket hanging from her neck.

He wasn't sure how she did it, but he suddenly felt like he was the bad guy here. It didn't sit well with Oliver. While he wanted to take off, his instincts guided him to sit on the opposite side of the bench from her, putting as much distance between them as possible.

"Sorry."

"Eh. Doesn't seem like I'm missing out on anything from living the single life in my experience." Stacy shrugged. "You don't have to stick around, Oliver. Just thought I'd try and be nice, but you're obviously not into it, and it's not like we'd have anything to talk about, anyway."

Just as Oliver thought he'd received his chance to bail, a notification that changed the game popped up.

--- New Quest! Ask Stacy for a makeover. +10LP ---

Goddamn it.

He wondered when he would get a quest, but he couldn't have predicted it being like this. The problem was that ten LP was a sum he couldn't ignore, and Oliver figured it might lead to a hangout session, too, which would net him another ten.

A makeover, though?

Oliver winced at the thought. He could've maybe tried asking her for some fashion tips, but a full-on makeover was embarrassing to even think about, and he had no idea how he'd broach the topic or if he could even put up with Stacy long enough for her to give him one. He didn't think he could, but then Oliver remembered how he'd told Bradley he'd try and go for it if he had a chance to score some easy LP with Stacy or Tessa.

Doing this quest was worth the effort and the psychological stress. It would give him more resources to develop his powers and buy more skills, ultimately getting him closer to Mia. Hell, this would get him right back at fifty. Oliver would finally be able to afford Selective Hearing, which... actually wasn't that big of an issue, currently.

Stacy's theme song had changed pitch and tempo, and Oliver hadn't even noticed until now. The song was now somewhat softer and much easier to listen to. On top of that, he'd hardly noticed it today in general. It was crazy to think he was actually getting used to this, but hey, those points could be better spent elsewhere if he didn't actually need the skill.

With a mental sigh, Oliver opted in... but if this was his subconscious trying to not so subtly nudge him into bonding with Stacy, it had another thing coming. He was in it for the points, nothing else.

"It's cool," Oliver answered after a long pause, swirling the straw around and mixing the whipped cream with his espresso. "If you really wanted to hang out for a few, I guess I can stick around until I finish this." That would be a while, given how every sip felt like he was injecting diabetes straight into his veins.

Stacy didn't perk up, but she looked at him and appeared more pleased. "Nice. So what were you up to before running into me and deciding to play hero, huh?"

Oliver sucked at casual conversation, and that was without the other party being who she was. Either way, he was going to do his best. "Not much. Just hanging around at home today until I decided to go and get some coffee. I live like a five-minute walk from here. What about you?"

"I was headed to a hair salon that my friend works at before I made the mistake of trying out that place," Stacy grumbled angrily. "Can you fucking believe that guy?"

"No, it was pretty fucking crazy... like... did he actually think that would work, or what?"

"Right?" Stacy laughed. "That had to have been, like, one of the most desperate attempts at getting my number I've ever seen. Fucking creep."

Oliver stirred his drink even more. This was hell. The conversation was already drying up, and he felt he couldn't continue. A couple of seconds passed in silence before he circled back to what she said before.

"So... a salon, huh? You planning on doing something with your hair?" He asked, trying to sound less artificial than Bradley. Oliver didn't know how ordinary people did this.

"No, he works at a men's salon," Stacy clarified.

There we go. That sounded like the perfect segue into completing his quest. Oliver was just about to capitalize on it, but she continued to speak and took things in a different direction. One that he was hoping she wouldn't.

"More importantly, I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

He wasn't sure how he knew where this was going, but he did. "...Does this have something to do with high school?"

Stacy didn't see a point in hiding it. She turned around in her seat to face him, her expression guarded yet neutral. "Yes."

Oliver sighed and stared into his espresso. "Please don't tell me you're going to try and apologize."

"That was the plan. I was a bitch, plain and simple. A much worse one than I am nowadays. A lot happened since then, but what I did was inexcusable, and so on and so forth..."

"How sincere."

"Hard to keep up the motivation to make things right when you're being so quiet and dismissive."

"I have every right to act this way after what you did," he clenched the plastic coffee cup in his hand.

"I know you do," Stacy spat. "I've been respectful of your problems with me since the day we started working together. Tessa pulled me aside as soon as you went to her and explained everything to me, and for the last six months, I've given you space, never bothered you if I could help it-"

"You bothered me the other morning," Oliver reminded her.

She looked at him, annoyed. "Yeah, because I was worried about you, you little-" Stacy sighed and took a huge gulp of her coffee. "God, why does this have to be so hard...?"

Oliver was wondering the same thing. He was considering cutting his losses and getting out of here. It didn't look like completing the quest would happen at this rate, but he still had more to say. "If you're so content to keep away from me and respect that I still hate you for what happened, then why sit me down and try to bridge that gap? Are you trying to get me to forgive you so you can sleep better at night? I'm sorry to say that's not gonna happen. I can't lie and say, 'hey, it's okay' when a big part of me thinks you still deserve to feel bad about it."

Stacy stared at him in surprise. A couple seconds after he spoke, Oliver realized how intense he'd gotten just now. He looked away. Apologizing was out of the question. He still meant it, even if it wasn't his intention to be quite so rude about it.

"You're not totally wrong..." Stacy said under her breath. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't still feel guilty about it, but there's more to it than that. More than anything else, I'm... curious, I guess. I bullied a lot of people in my first two years of high school. Not proud of it, and I've apologized where I could, but... you're different than everyone else I've met up with again as an adult. It's like you're traumatized by me or something."

"I'm not-"

Stacy scooted across the bench to be closer to him, prompting Oliver to reflexively get up from his seat and take a step away. She stared at him with a serious expression, having proved her point. "You think I don't notice how you can't even look me in the eyes half the time? Christ. I'm not trying to downplay everything I did. I just want to better understand how you ended up like this and for you to tell me if there's anything I can do to even slightly make it up to you."

Oliver forced himself to meet her gaze. Stacy looked fierce, determined, and inflexible. He really hated to admit it, but she actually gave a rat's ass about him and his well-being for whatever reason. It felt like some kind of a sick joke for her to have grown up into a more well-rounded adult while he was stuck spending most of the last eight years in a constant downward spiral.

"Things didn't get much better for me after I switched schools, I-" Oliver started, then stopped himself from spilling.

Her genuine sympathy almost made him open up, which could've been dangerous. He wasn't interested in giving Stacy any peace of mind. If it bothered her that he ended up like this, then too bad for her, but that wasn't his problem.

"Sorry, I'm not comfortable dumping my whole life story on you," he sighed. "The gist of it is my hatred for you took me to a really, really unhealthy mental space that took me forever to get out of. Nowadays, I know better than to blame you for all of the bad decisions I made, but you were still the catalyst. I can't just up and get over that."

Stacy was quiet for a really long time. Eventually, she nodded her head. "I see. I think I get it. It only takes one wrong move for the entire house of cards to come tumbling down, right? I know a thing or two about that."

"...Do you?" Oliver wondered aloud.

"Is that doubt I hear?" Stacy offered up a dry laugh.

"Maybe. I don't want to make assumptions, but it's hard to imagine when all I've ever seen is how much everyone loves and adores perfect little Stacy. Hell, you can't even walk into a coffee shop without someone trying to hit on you..."

"Oliver..."

He shrank back a little. "...Sorry. That one was uncalled for."

Stacy ignored him, saying, "I'm sorry that you went through what you did. I'll live if you never end up forgiving me, but I meant it when I said if there's anything I can do to make it even slightly better, all you have to do is ask."

Oliver wanted to go home at this point. This was too confusing, too emotionally charged. He closed his eyes and tried to think rationally about what to do.

Stacy was sorry. Sure, okay. That was a thing, but more importantly, she was willing to make it up to him. If he asked her for help, she wouldn't refuse.

But was it worth it?

He drank the last of his coffee, so much sugar coursing through his veins that his blood probably had the consistency of syrup right about now. "...It's not going to make things better all of a sudden, I don't think anything ever will, but there is something you might be able to help with."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"I've been trying to break out of my mold these last couple of days and shake things up a little. One thing I've been interested in is putting more work into my appearance, but if I'm being honest, I don't have the faintest idea where I would even begin. You're the most stylish person I know, so..."

Stacy suddenly had a glimmer in her eyes. She was looking at him and seeing a blank canvas. That, or a piece of meat. He didn't know which possibility scared him more.

"Is that so? Interesting..." Stacy sipped the rest of her espresso. "I think I might be able to help you with that, yeah. God forbid I leave you alone, and you start thinking that breaking out the old bomber jacket and hair gel combo is a good idea."

His face scarlet, Oliver turned around and started walking away. "Forget I asked."

Stacy followed after him, laughing softly. It sounded cuter than he wanted to admit. "Come on, that was funny!"

"I could take that joke if it came from anyone else," Oliver lied.

"Fine, I'm sorry you can't handle the tiniest bit of teasing," she sighed. "Here's what I think we should do. First, you'll tag along with me to go see my friend. He'll start things off and take care of this," Stacy ran her hand through his overgrown bangs, causing him to blush harder and swat her away. "After that, I'll take you to a nice men's apparel store, you'll try on some different outfits, and I'll give you some feedback while helping you flesh out your own personal style. Sound good?"

It didn't, but it did sound like free LP.

"Let it be known I'm already deeply regretting this."

"Oh, Ollie... you won't regret a thing when I'm done with you."