Love Addict's RPG Ch. 25

Gonna take a break today since I haven't done one in a while, so next chapter might be a few days out. We'll see.

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The same cashier who greeted Mia now checked the both of them out. It turned out that this was the titular Rob himself, who was a pretty friendly guy in his forties with a thick beard and a wide smile. Rob asked Mia how her art was coming along, and she gave a couple of vague non-answers before she deflected by introducing Oliver. Even though he didn't like having to randomly interact with people, Oliver did his best and got away with the bare minimum amount of socializing it took to not come off as a weirdo- or so he hoped.

--Spent $75

Item Received: Assorted Art Supplies--

There, that ought to do it. Plenty of stuff to start training his spark stat.

In comparison, Mia spent just shy of $200.

Oliver thought her massive collection of empty sketchbooks and assorted pencils was overkill at first. It made more sense when she explained to him that she only comes here every couple of months to stock up on supplies. Still, she bought so much that she had trouble carrying it all. Mia was a small, petite girl, looking so delicate that one might think the wind could sweep her off her feet. On the days they unloaded the truck at work, Mia mostly stuck to unpackaging boxes and pushing carts.

Oliver offered to take her bags for her, as it was the polite thing to do. She didn't turn him down. The unfortunate twist of the knife was that Bradley's muscle massage was starting to wear off. Mentally, he was riding high. Physically, things were getting dire.

"Starting to look a little worse for wear," Mia frowned and buckled herself in after they put their bags in Oliver's trunk. "It's cool if we need to take a rain check on dinner. I mean, since you're already planning on upping your Mia dosage..."

Oliver sat down at the wheel and struggled against the pain in his legs, cursing his past self in all his stupidity. "Not gonna let that go, are you?"

"Would've thought you'd understand by now that letting things go isn't my style," she offered Oliver a less than sincere smile. The simple gesture was enough to make him feel a lot better, giving his addicted brain a sweet boost of dopamine.

"My legs are just tired, that's it. I'm not gonna pass out over something like that. Besides, I want to keep hanging out with you while you're here with me, not later."

Mia blushed slightly and looked out the passenger side window. "Well, not gonna argue when you put it like that... we could still get takeout and chill, though. No reason we gotta sit down and wait somewhere."

"We could, but I want to take you somewhere nicer."

Mia raised a brow. "And why's that?"

"Because I'm still sorry about the way I fucked up yesterday, and I want to make up for it," Oliver turned to face her, suddenly serious. "Make it up to you."

She registered his thoughts and feelings, placing her hand on his knee after a few seconds. "Really don't have to. I'm not mad anymore, Ollie."

The sudden physical contact made Oliver nervous, though at least he wasn't alone. Mia's face displayed a subtle hint of anxiety that he was just barely able to pick up on. This gave him the courage to reach down, placing his hand on top of hers. The car grew silent as they looked into each other's eyes.

"I know I don't have to. I want to."

Mia gave in. She smiled, took her hand back, and looked away. "Fine, fine. You win. Where did you have in mind?"

"Nowhere, really. What sounds good to you?"

"Not that picky."

"C'mon, if you could have anything you want right now, what would it be?"

"Now there's a question," Mia mused. "Assuming you're only talking about food, I'd be fine with steak. Can't see that working out tonight, though."

Oliver rubbed his chin in thought. She was right. All the steakhouses would be busy as hell on the Friday after Valentine's Day. Guess that was on him for asking what Mia was in the mood for.

"Can't hurt to try," Oliver said, whipping out his phone. Instead of searching for restaurants, he made for his contact list. Bradley said he would poke around and find some options, so he figured now would be a good time to check in with him.

Or not.

Before Oliver could even open their text log, his phone buzzed with a notification indicating a new message from his best bro. He inspected the contents and found a list of ten restaurants. Bradley claimed these places had good reviews, were decently affordable, and they wouldn't take long to seat them. The options were all over the place, ranging from a Vietnamese diner to a children's pizza arcade.

At the end of the list was a steakhouse named '12oz House'. Oliver had never heard of it, but it wasn't very far away, and a quick internet search verified what Bradley had said about the reviews. There were only about ten reviews, but all were five stars. Might as well, he supposed.

"What's up?" Mia finally broke the silence after a minute or so, not wanting to come off as nosy just because he got a text.

"Friend texted me about something, nothing important. Think I might know where we can get some steak, though."

"We can give it a shot," Mia said. "But if there's a line, I insist on takeout."

There was not a line.

When they arrived, Oliver was skeptical he'd followed the directions correctly. He parked on the curb and was about to put some coins in the meter, only to find out that Free Ride activated it without his input. Mia had nothing to say about him not paying for the meter, acting like this was normal. What did rub her the wrong way was that the steakhouse was allegedly at the back of a dark and dirty alleyway.

"Dude," Mia cringed and let out a cheap laugh, looking away from a pile of discarded needles barely hidden beneath a bunch of tattered newspapers and feces of indeterminate origin. "I would've come back to your place if you'd asked. Didn't need to go through the trouble of luring me somewhere that nobody would come looking for me."

"Hey, don't joke about that..." Oliver replied, flustered. He got where she was coming from, though. If there actually was a steakhouse back here, Oliver figured it'd be the kind where they'd be on the menu. "Fuck, I'm really sorry. There wasn't a picture when I searched for the directions..."

"Always a good sign,"

"Right?" He shrugged.

Mia took a step into the alley and tilted her head. "Think that might be it," she pointed into the distance to a door initially blocked off from their view by a dumpster. On the door was a beaten-up sign with the correct name. "What do you say, wanna give it a shot?"

Oliver absolutely did not want to give it a shot. He was paranoid, and he believed it was duly justified in this scenario. Oliver wouldn't dream of setting foot in this or any other alley if he were alone. Shame that Mia was here, as she clouded his judgment. He still could've tried to say no, but it was a long shot when she had that look on her face.

Mia was smiling in a sarcastic, half-amused way that screamed she thought it'd be funny, her eyes staring into his with a glimmer of expectation and childish hope.

"No, but you obviously do, and that's enough for me..." Oliver sighed, stepping into the alley, much to Mia's delight.

Pleased, Mia patted him on the back. "Good answer."

The interior matched the exterior. 12oz House was a place that could only be considered charming if you were into the whole 'place that could serve the base of operations for a low-level Victorian London era street gang' aesthetic. It was like someone wagered the owner a million dollars to see how many health code violations you could have in a single building without getting shut down. Floorboards and walls had cracks in them, there was barely any lighting, and the air smelled like stale cheese.

Oliver wanted to get the fuck out of there, but Mia was entertained. Even more so when the waiter came by looking like he could've been a long-lost member of The Addams Family. The only thing keeping him here was that Mia was trying so hard to be polite and not giggle at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and damn it, seeing her acting so cute seemed worth risking the potential food poisoning at the time.

The waiter appeared to be wholeheartedly confused. Oliver couldn't imagine how long it'd been since this place last had a customer, but you'd think the man had been locked in a basement for the last twenty years with the way he stared. The man cleared his throat and then spoke.

"Welcome to 12oz House. Restrooms are in the back, and if you need directions-"

Yikes, Oliver felt terrible for this guy. "Actually, we're here to eat..."

"Don't do this to me," he stared at Oliver long past the point where it was comfortable for him, adding in a hushed voice, "Don't give me hope."

"Hey, man. Your call. We can always find somewhere else." Mia made it look as if she was about to turn around and make for the door, sending the waiter into a state of desperation.

"No, no! Don't go! You'll miss our current Valentine's Day weekend special!" He pointed at a nearby sign that had escaped Oliver until now because of how damn dark it was. "Dinner is half off for any and all couples!"

Oliver was halfway toward showing his foot in his mouth and explaining that they weren't a couple. It wasn't even entirely because of his nerves. He also would've felt bad paying half off when this place probably didn't make enough to keep the lights on.

Mia was more keen to exploit the opportunity, predicting Oliver's reluctance and ensuring he couldn't express it. She put on her best smile and wrapped her arm around Oliver's bicep. His heart stopped at how close she was, the weight of her head nuzzling against his shoulder and the impossible-to-ignore feeling of her chest pressing into his arm.

Mia was a small girl, but not everywhere got the memo. They were bigger than he would've expected for such a slim girl. Not huge, but more than noticeable. Probably c-cup, if he had to-

"Wow. Can you believe it, babe?" Mia asked in an exaggerated lovey-dovey voice that threatened to give Oliver a heart attack. "Guess it was good that we had to wait till the weekend for our special V-day."

Oliver snapped out of his virginity-inspired titty trance.

Though he was going through a lot because of her, Oliver knew better than to not fuck this up. He rolled with it, putting his arm around her delicate waist and pulling Mia closer. Thank God for how dark it was. Hopefully, the waiter wouldn't notice how awkward this was for him.

"Funny how things work out like that, honey," Oliver managed a much less convincing smile than Mia's as he worked up the bravery to lean his head against her own. Her hair felt soft against his cheek. "Table for two, please?"

"Yes, of course," the offputting waiter gazed at the two not-lovers during their not-a-date with a face that screamed 'God, I wish that were me'. "Right this way."

Mia kept her arms around his as they followed, and he didn't take his hand away from her waist. Without looking at him, she whispered, "Smooth as silk, babe. Smooth as silk."

"No thanks to you, honey. You aren't making this any easier."

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" Mia smirked but wouldn't elaborate any further.

They were led to a corner seat booth where the waiter lit an old-fashioned candelabra for them. Oliver slid against the wall-side seat, Mia surprising him further by continuing to play up the clingy angle. She sat on the same side of the booth as him, refusing to give Oliver an inch.

They ordered immediately because the place was dead empty, and the waiter left them alone. As soon as it was just the two of them, Mia asked, "So, did you know this place was having a special for couples ahead of time, or what?"

"Yes, Mia. You got me. My plan to drag you to the saddest fucking steakhouse in North America where we'd end up in a situation where we'd have to role-play as boyfriend and girlfriend to get half-off on a depressing, candlelit steak dinner went off without a single hitch."

Mia cracked up louder than he'd ever heard from her, almost snorting. It lasted only a second before she regained her typical cool. "Okay, I'll admit that was a reach. Just hope you know that we didn't have to pretend just now, and... well..."

Scratch that. Mia's cool was faltering ever so slightly as she looked off to the side. It didn't matter. Oliver got the drift.

"Sorry..." he hung his head.

"No, I am. Fuck." Mia grumbled to herself. "Told myself I wasn't gonna rush you, and here I am, dropping hints heavier than bricks..."

"You're fine. It's not like I didn't want this to be a little less casual, but..."

"But?" Mia placed her hand on his knee again. "Go on. You can be real with me."

Her hand gave Oliver a shocking amount of comfort and reassurance. He didn't have it in him to tell her everything, but he did spill some of what was on his mind. "I used to have... and skill kinda do have some problems when it comes to women. Not just the 'bad at talking to them' kind of problems, but you know I'm not the best at that by now. More like actual hangups problems. It makes me overly worried about all this, and-"

"Hey," she shushed him, snaking her hand up to his. "Chill. You're doing good, Ollie. Real good. I'm having fun. Lots."

He smiled at that but didn't feel much better. "It means a lot that you're putting up with me. I'm trying hard to make a difference and get out of the mental rut I've lived in for the longest time, but..."

"Dios mio," Mia spat under the breath and shook her head. "That bitch really did a number on you, didn't she?"

Oliver swallowed nervously and felt a lump in his throat. It sucked that Stacy told Mia about their shared past. He didn't want to hide it forever, but he would've preferred it if Mia hadn't started off with that knowledge so he could've told her himself when he was ready.

"Kinda, yeah, but Stacy was only the first domino to fall. When you get down to it, the one who did a number on me more than anyone else was yours truly."

Things got quiet after he said that, and he dared to look at Mia to see what she was thinking. What he saw was a strange, guilt-ridden face that appeared deep in contemplation. Hell, it almost looked like she was going to tear up.

"Mia?" He squeezed her hand under the table, suddenly much more concerned with her mental state than his own.

Mia took her hand away and then rubbed her forehead, letting out a deep sigh. She stared away from him as she spoke, unable to meet his eyes. "Hey, Ollie? I... look, I can't do this anymore. There's something I need to tell you. Something I've been trying bring up now for the longest time, and I-"

"Order up!"

The two awkward and emotional young adults were so lost in their world of angst, anxiety, and awkward romance that they didn't notice the incoming footsteps of their creepy waiter, who was seemingly in a much better mood now that he had customers to serve. He practically slammed down their dinner and drinks, completely ruining the moment.

"Let me know if anything doesn't look right or if I can get you anything else," he offered, which Mia instantly took him up on.

She fished her wallet from her vest's inner pocket, then flashed her ID. "Saw cocktails on the menu. Think a girl can get a Moscow Mule?"

The waiter obliged and ran off, leaving them with their food and a suddenly awkward atmosphere. Oliver was full of questions, but he was sure Mia felt the same. They both had a lot they wanted to say to each other, so he chose to politely circle back before digging into his steak.

"Need that drink before you can tell me the rest?"

"No," Mia gave him a weak smile. "Got ahead of myself, there. Would kinda prefer if you pretended I didn't say anything just now, but that might be a bit optimistic."

"Just a bit," Oliver admitted.

"I'm gonna tell you," she frowned, cutting her steak. "Soon. I promise I will. I just... don't want to ruin the night. That's all. Not the time, not the place."

Oliver looked at her funny. "You're making whatever this is sound really, really bad."

"Well, it's not really, really good..." she mumbled. "Don't wanna play this card, but I'm not rushing you, so..."

"Fair's fair," Oliver nodded, resolving to let it go for now. He owed her that much for being patient with him. It was going to weigh heavily on his mind, of course. Probably wouldn't even be able to sleep tonight, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. "Still feel like you're exaggerating. I doubt that whatever you've got to say could ruin the night."

"You'd be surprised..."

This time, it was Oliver who took the initiative and placed his hand on Mia's knee. "The only thing I'm surprised about is how great this steak looks," he said, smiling. "How about you?"

Mia was quiet for a few seconds before brightening up ever so slightly. "Doesn't look so bad, no. Might just be that my expectations were rock-bottom, though. Here," she stabbed one of the pieces she already cut with her fork and lifted it to his lips. "Test this for poison."

"At once, your Majesty," Oliver took the offered bite and was pleasantly surprised. "Tastes like a good steak. Jury's gonna be out for a while in the poison, but I'll get back to you."

Mia smiled, relieved. She was on the verge of trying her steak for herself but was interrupted by the waiter bringing her the drink she'd ordered. It came in a copper mug filled with ice and had a lime sticking out of it, with the scent of citrus wafting on the air and just a hint of mint.

After she took a drink, Oliver saw another chance to lighten the mood and went for it. "Mind if I try a sip of that, honey?"

She stared at him briefly, then slid the copper mug closer to him. "By all means, babe."

Oliver didn't know whether getting drunk would have an effect on his fast travel ability, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He lifted Mia's Moscow Mule to his lips, treating himself to the tiniest of sips. The zestiness of the ginger beer, vodka, and lime juice cocktail hit him hard. Oliver wasn't much of a drinker, as it just wasn't his preferred vice, but hey.

This was pretty damn good.

"Not bad," Oliver said, wrapping his arm around Mia's shoulder. "Turns out my girlfriend has pretty good taste, so I think I'll have what she's having. Nonalcoholic, please."

Thrilled at the chance of making additional money for this clearly floundering business, the waiter obliged and zipped off yet again. Mia leaned against his shoulder when they were alone after taking her drink back from Oliver. "Heh. I'd say you were charming if I didn't know any better."

"Am I not?"

"Half of the time. Usually, you're just awkward, but I can work with that. Hell. Might even say I think it's cute."

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to start up a back-and-forth by saying that you're cuter?"

"Rather not gag all over my dinner, thanks," Mia finally pulled out of his shoulder hug and grabbed her fork. "This is the part where you're supposed to shut your mouth so I can stuff mine."

"...Interesting way to phrase that."

Mia winked knowingly and shoved a bite of steak in her mouth, leaving Oliver to laugh, blush, and do the same.