Chapter 138: Mateo’s Makeover!
The rest of the evening drifted along easy, Mateo eventually pulling up Jessica’s Instagram to show Liam, scrolling through her page with the kind of quiet reverence usually reserved for something sacred. Liam watched him do it, mildly amused at how obvious the whole thing was — every photo got a longer pause than it needed, every caption apparently required careful analysis.
“She’s cool, right?” Mateo asked, angling the phone toward him for his approval.
“She seems nice,” Liam said diplomatically, though what he was actually thinking about wasn’t the girl herself but the math of the whole situation.
Because liking her wasn’t really the problem. Mateo clearly liked her plenty — that much had been obvious the second her name came up.
The problem was getting her to actually see him as someone worth liking back, and that wasn’t going to happen through a few well-placed words or a clever opening line. Liam had watched enough of how high schools operated, even from a distance, to know that reputation moved slower than actual change.
If Jessica — or honestly, anyone at that school — had already filed Mateo away as the kid who got picked on, no amount of confidence coaching alone was going to undo that overnight.
The whole perception needed to shift. Not just Mateo’s own confidence, though that mattered plenty, but how the rest of the school actually saw him walking through the halls.
Liam studied him for a moment, running through what that would actually take.
Mateo was a good kid. Genuinely good — funny once he opened up, sharper than his shyness let on, loyal in a way that had already shown itself more than once over the last few days. But the look he was working with right now did him no favors.
His hair sat flat and shapeless, clearly the product of whatever Sophia managed at home between everything else she juggled — she meant well, obviously, but “bad boy” haircuts weren’t exactly her specialty. It gave him this overly neat, slightly stiff look, responsible in the way a much younger kid dressed for picture day looked responsible. Not exactly the energy that got a cheerleader’s attention.
Mateo caught him staring and shifted uncomfortably. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Liam sighed, already deciding. “Give me a minute.”
He got up and headed toward the bedroom, where Darren was still passed out cold, sprawled diagonally across the freshly changed sheets like he owned the place.
A moment later, a sharp yelp cracked through the apartment, followed immediately by Darren’s voice, panicked and furious in equal measure.
“WHAT THE FUCK, LIAM—”
From the couch, Mateo winced at the sound, grinning despite himself. Whatever had just happened in there, it was clearly retribution, and given how Darren had woken Liam up earlier — screaming, mumbling, general chaos — it felt fair enough.
A few minutes later, both of them emerged. Darren looked thoroughly unimpressed, rubbing at his side and shooting Liam a look that promised future revenge, but he was awake now, which had apparently been the entire point.
“You’re a menace,” Darren muttered.
“You started it.”
“I was asleep. That doesn’t count as starting anything.”
“Karma doesn’t care about technicalities, you buff head!”
Darren rolled his eyes, then turned his attention to Mateo, sizing him up the same way Liam had a few minutes earlier. “What’s going on? Why’s everyone staring at the kid like he’s an exhibit?”
“We’re taking him to get his hair done,” Liam said.
Darren blinked. “Right now?”
“Right now.”
“It’s basically evening.”
“There’s a place that stays open late a few blocks from here. I checked online.”
Darren glanced at Mateo’s hair, considering it for a second, then nodded slowly, apparently coming around to the idea faster than expected. “Yeah, okay, actually — kid could use an upgrade. No offense.”
“None taken, I guess,” Mateo said, though his ears had gone slightly red again.
“This about the cheerleader?” Darren asked, glancing at Liam as he was clearly eavesdropping before sleep eventually took him under.
“Obviously,” Liam said.
Darren grinned, clapping his hands together. “Alright. I’m in. Let’s get this man some actual swag.”
Mateo looked between the two of them, a mix of embarrassment and genuine excitement flickering across his face, clearly not used to this much attention being poured into something that felt, to him, this personal.
“You guys really don’t have to do all this,” he said quietly.
“We know,” Liam said, grabbing his jacket off the chair. “We’re doing it anyway. Get your shoes, you lowbudget Romeo.”
–
Liam pulled into the lot outside the barbershop, cutting the engine before glancing up at the sign properly for the first time. Kings Cutz. Bold lettering, a mural along the side wall depicting a lineup of sharp fades and clean beard work, every photo in the window featuring Black clientele exclusively.
Darren stared at the storefront for a long moment before turning slowly toward Liam.
“…You checked this place out, right?” Darren asked him right away.
“I checked the reviews.” Liam confessed.
“You checked the reviews.” Darren rubbed a hand down his face. “Liam. This is a black barbershop. Mateo’s hair texture is not the same as what they’re set up for in there.”
“I didn’t think about that.” Liam admitted.
“Clearly.” Darren shook his head, exasperated. “Of course you managed to fuck this up. I’d think you had dyslexia if you weren’t such a damn good lawyer.”
“Alright, buzz off,” Liam muttered, already unbuckling his seatbelt, mildly embarrassed despite himself.
Darren twisted around toward the backseat. “C’mon, hop out.”
Mateo climbed out, glancing between the two of them, sensing the slight tension without fully understanding the source of it. Darren stepped out after him, already taking the lead toward the entrance, and Liam followed a beat behind, letting him.
It made sense to let Darren handle this part — not because of who could or couldn’t walk through the door, but because Darren actually had an eye for what style would suit Mateo. Liam, if he was being honest with himself, had never put real thought into his own hair beyond keeping it clean and simple. He didn’t need to. His height, his build, his face did most of the heavy lifting without requiring a signature cut to back it up.
Darren, on the other hand, clearly paid attention to this stuff, already scanning the shop’s window display with something like genuine consideration.
“Trust me on this one,” Darren said, holding the door open for Mateo. “I got you.”
Mateo nodded, a little nervous, and stepped inside.