FicWad

Here I am, post hair appointment.

Let me tell you, it was ridiculous. I'm a dye artist. I dye things. It's what I'm better at. I can cut hair, sure, it's sort of a prerequisite for being hired at a salon, but I don't like to do it. It's not my specialty. It's almost degrading when someone asks me to just "cut their hair". I'm probably being overdramatic but when you're famous throughout...well, never mind.

His appointment, which was my last of the day, was beyond awkward. I, as you already know, had counted on him being...well, not so straight.


Oh, he was straight...and his cousin is the college student that let's me do whatever I want with her hair. Crazy.

Not only was he straight, but he was mentionably attractive...which is why I guess I'm mentioning it. Well, here's where it went, because I'm just being obnoxious now.


"Hi." He said, removing his hat and sitting in the chair I had motioned for him to sit in. I picked up my appointment book, flipping the pages to today's date, and looking at the name next to "4:00". Patrick Stump. Okay.

"Alright, Patrick." I said, pushing my fingers through the back of his hair. He moved his shoulders upon contact. It was weird. I'd noticed. "Why did you do that?" His reflection looked up at mine.

"You gave me the chills. Sorry." I laughed. That was an effect I didn't typically have on my clients. He should start coming in more often.

"It's fine. I was just curious. Anyway, what are we doing with this hair today?" He shrugged.


"I think I just need it trimmed." I smiled, a little irritated that my fabulous dyeing skills were being put to waste...he was actually asking me to just "trim his hair." He could have at least made it worth while by allowing me to give him a Mohawk or something. Jerk. (I would have probably been more excited about a blue Mohawk. But beggars can't be choosers.)


"Just trimmed?" He pursed his lips then nodded a little.

"Yeah...well, how are you with sideburns?" I looked at the lengthy bands of hair on the side of his face, one's that had seemingly taken quite sometime to grow. They were attractive, I might add, and I'm not so sure I was too thrilled about cutting them...so, I might have told a lie. I don't really remember...


"I've never really done anything with sideburns before." He laughed.


"You most just trim them and shape them a little bit. How hard can it be?" Have I mentioned that I'm like, the best dye-artist ever? Well, I'm not, but I think I'm pretty damn good, and the fact that this (almost) totally stranger was challenging the amount of intelligence I had was beyond frustrating.

I crossed my right foot over my left, balancing my weight, and put a hand on my hip. That's my pissed stance. You'll see it a lot, trust me.


"Alright. I've got it under control then; just tell me what you want me to do with them." His reflection looked up at mine, once again, and he smiled.


"Did I make you mad?" He seemed to be challenging me a little.

"No. You think I'm overly sensitive or something? You think boys can just walk in here and make me cry? Wrong. Very wrong." He was laughing at me now.

"What's your name?" My stomach growled. Thank God.


"Maggie." He looked at me, smiling still. "Stop smiling. Nothing is funny."


"You're a pill." I made a face at him.

"A pill? What's a pill? What the hell are you talking about?" I closed my eyes, and turned his chair around. "Lean back. I'm going to wash you hair now. Please try to stop making me so..."


"Flustered?" I opened my eyes, and matched his gaze.


"Angry."


"You said I wasn't making you angry."

"I wasn't being honest."

"My hair is in your hands, and you're mad at me. Is this a good idea?" I laughed, working my hands through his strawberry blonde hair, massaging his scalp with the only shampoo I used on any of my clients. Biolage.

"You're fine. I'm mostly professional." He kept his head still as I continued to lather, then rinse, then condition, then rinse again.


"Which is why you met me ten minutes ago and have already come in and out of hate with me..." I looked at him, stopping what I was doing.


"Be careful. Your hair is in my hands."

I grabbed a towel off of the shelf above the sink, and roughly dried his hair until it was suitable for cutting.


"Are you sure I'm not coloring this hair or anything?" He nodded.


"Very. I wouldn't dream of coloring it. Ever." I ran my hands through his hair once again, noticing his shoulders kept still this time. I guess I've lost my Midas touch.


"It's a nice color, I'll admit. I would probably feel bad about coloring it anyway." I leaned forward, pulling a comb and a pair of scissors out of the pink cup at my station, and stepped back. "So I'm just trimming it, then?" He nodded.

"Just trimming it. And try to forget about what a jackass I was a few minutes ago. Again, this is my first time here, and you wouldn't want me running around Chicago saying this place is full of incompetent people." I laughed.


"I doubt you have that much power."

"I know people that do." He smiled. "I'm kidding. Just a trim." I nodded, and grabbed a strand of hair placing it between my pointer and middle fingers, then snipping, but not too much.


"I like your hair." I stopped what I was doing and glanced at his reflection.

"Uh, thanks."

"Did you do it?" I laughed and pointed at Charles, the guy who actually was responsible for my hair.


"No. He did." Patrick smiled and kept still as I went back to cutting his damp hair. About 6 minutes later, I was finished. "Do you want me to blow dry it?" I'd noticed it was kind of long, and drying kind of weird and waved. My stomach growled again, and I smiled to myself.


"Sure. If you want." I grabbed my ionic dryer from it's place on the rack and turned it on, bow drying his hair in about 3 minutes.

"Alright. Now what am I doing with these sideburns?" I grabbed an electric set of clippers from the cup, along with the scissors I'd previously used on his actual hair.


"I just want them shaped up a little. They're getting unruly." I inched my face closer to his sideburns, looking at the stray hairs and small hairs that had grown longer than others. I also, in that moment, managed to make the situation a little more awkward than it already had been for both of us. No, wait. That was him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, glancing in my direction without moving his head.

"I want to know what I'm clipping before I start. I don't know about you but I don't think the whole, "shot in the dark", theory sounds very good when applied to this."


"Oh. Right." I stepped back, turning on the clippers, and beginning to slowly trim those incredible sideburns. "Actually, will you just shave them off? I'm kind of tired of the upkeep." I looked at him.


"But they're so cool."

"I thought you were professional." Had I known him better, I would have flipped him off.


"Since when does that mean I can't compliment you?" He smiled.


"You said it, not me." I rolled my eyes, and grabbed an electric razor.

"So, completely gone?" He nodded.

"Completely gone." Then he raised his hand to a spot on the side of his face. "Only to there though." I nodded, and began eradicating the incredible Patrick side-burns. I was actually very bummed to be doing it, I won't lie. Call me un-professional, but they were so...

I don't know. I might not have thought he was a cool guy, but I definitely thought he had cool 'burns.

When I'd finished, I stepped back, examining the cut off point on each side of his face, making sure they were even. They were. Man, I'm good.


"Alright. You're good to go." He Stood, and I removed the cape from around his neck, letting his hair fall to the floor. He leaned forward towards the mirror, inspecting the work than I'd done.

"I think..." He said, running a finger over the place his left sideburn had once been. "That you've just found yourself a new regular. This is probably better than I could do it myself." I smiled.


"How's your hair?" He grabbed a mirror off of the counter, and held it up, turning to find the reflection of the back of his head in the other mirror.

"It's fine too. My hair isn't that big of a deal to me." He placed his hat on his head, adjusting it. "Bet you can't guess why." I smiled, and walked over to the register.

"How much do I owe you?" I looked at him.


"Twenty." He handed me his credit card.

"Charge for thirty-five." I smiled.

"That's very nice of you."

"I gave you undeserved hell. It's the least I can do." I laughed.

"You didn't offend me. It' almost impossible to offend me." Oh wow, that's a lie.

"Good. You have a nice smile, so...don't stop." That came out of nowhere. "I think I mean to somehow incorporate how I wouldn't want to make you stop smiling, but I'm sort of socially retarded, so I'll just...call when this hair and these sideburns get out of control again." I smiled. "Unless you would let me call before that time."


I don't have time for a boyfriend. Did I mention that?

"Uh, I don't know..."

"To get coffee. Nothing loaded. I don't have time."


"This is weird."

"I'm weird."

"You shouldn't tell me that."

"Right. I told you. I'm a social retard. Can I at least give you my number, so it's up to you? I won't be offended if I don't get a call." I smiled.

"I have your number. I sort of have to." He nodded.

"Right. Cause I gave it to the lady that I scheduled my appointment with. Okay, well, I guess I'll go so I don't make you think I'm a fool and in turn cause you to never call." I smiled. What a charmer....?

"Okay. Here's your card. You may need it later or something." He laughed.

"Right, yeah. Thanks."

"You tell me I'm right a lot. I might just have to call you." He smiled and waved as he pushed the door open and entered into the freezing cold evening.




What did I tell you? Totally ridiculous. I didn't even get to dye his Mohawk that I never actually gave him, blue.

I'm hungry. Too bad.



Word of advice: Don't be a bitch to a cute guy or tell him he doesn't have the power to ruin your reputation...

You could be oh, so wrong.