A Haircut’s Not so Bad - Part 1 by kevinD

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Hey all, this is my first story here after a long time reading on this site. Just part 1 of hopefully 3 parts, I wanted to start slow and get a feel for it. Let me know if you like it so far, shouldn’t be long for the next 2.

Also, if you’d like to chat haircuts or about the story you can DM me @albumarchivist on IG.

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Jake and I had been driving down these backroads for what felt like hours but apparently had only taken them thirty minutes. The GPS had given them an alternative route once it had realized that the interstate was backed up for miles. This wasn’t much better. I was certain that we were lost, and had urged Jake to give up and just wait with the traffic. Driving on these middle of nowhere gravel paths was doing nothing but making them exhausted.

"I’m not stopping, Gavin, do you really wanna be at a standstill on 81 for four extra hours? No way, not happening".

"Well we’re not making much better progress out here smart guy. We’re gonna break down out here and get stuck, if the heat doesn’t kill us first".

"Please don’t be so dramatic Gav, it’s just a little backroading".

We had decided that a little adventure to spice up our summer would be good for us. We hadn't seen each other for almost the entirety of the second semester, too busy with internships and study abroad to get the chance to cross paths. Jake wanted the Bahamas, but I was not about to spend that much money on round trip tickets, so a road trip to the National Parks was the next best option. Of course, the worst traffic I’d ever seen and the most intense heat wave in years kept the trip from being anywhere near successful.

The AC wasn’t doing much to help anymore, and I could feel the sweat dripping down my neck from the thick pelt of brown hair, nice and plush. Now, though, it was drenched, and it felt anything but good. I loved my hair, and I’d had this medium length middle part for a long time now, since before I started college. But today it was killing me. Still, I could never understand the guys who kept their hair super short, especially cuts done with electric clippers, how barbaric. Those metal teeth chewing away at your precious hair, how could they enjoy that? Being sheared like a farm animal, I could never do it to myself. I liked being attended to, by someone gentle and caring, who wanted my hair to look good, not sheared. Jake thought I was a little vain about my hair, but he didn’t get clipper cuts either. His hair was still significantly shorter than mine, but he cut it himself at home with kitchen scissors rather than at a barber. He hadn’t been to a barber in years now, and his signature messily chopped dirty blonde locks seemed to suit him fine. I thought it was a little poorly done, but he had sworn off barbershops, saying that they never get his vision exactly right. Whatever that meant.

"Ok, man," sighed Jake, "we’re gonna take a break. My feet are killing me and we need to stop and find a spot to cool down, alright?"

"Sounds good with me", I hastily agreed.

We pulled into some run down strip mall down the road from a small town, with only a couple convenience stores to its name and one lone barbershop at the far end. Jake ran off to the 7/11 to grab snacks without so much as a goodbye, and I sauntered towards the Five Below to browse until I got bored.

Several meaningless purchases later and significantly less sweat plastered to my neck and forehead I decided to make my way back to the car, Jake was probably done by now. I left the store and began to head towards the car, but out of the corner of my eye noticed Jake wasn’t in the car but standing outside of the barbershop speaking to a man who seemed to be the barber. I stopped in my tracks, what on Earth is he doing?

I hurriedly made my way towards him to see what was going on, but before I could get close the barber gestured for him to follow, and they both disappeared inside the barbershop. What? Why was he going inside, he hadn’t been to a barbershop in years? Sure it was hot, but letting a barber take the clippers to him? It didn’t seem likely. I had to see what this was about.

I made my way to the door of the shop and quickly found that it had been locked. I yanked harder a few times but to no avail. Why would he lock it? There was a large glass window next to the door but it was mostly impossible to see through because of the blinds that had been lowered inside. I craned my neck this way and that until I was able to find a spot near the corner where I could peek inside. Sure enough, there was Jake, sitting in the barbers chair, red upholstery and all. My angle was from behind so I couldn’t quite make out Jake's face, but he was being caped up and lifted up in the chair. He really was getting a haircut, weird. I guess I couldn’t blame him, I had noticed him running his hand through his shag every five seconds during the drive, he must’ve been close to giving in!

I tried to reposition myself to get a better look at his face, and when I saw him I knew something was wrong. Jake sat straight up as a ruler, staring dead ahead with this glassy look in his eyes. A big, dumb grin was plastered on his face and he looked about ready to start drooling. What on Earth was wrong with him? I had to get in there, this wasn’t like him.

I went back up to the door and pounded a few times waiting for an answer. There was some mumbling inside but no response. I pounded again. The sound of footsteps approached.

The door swung open with a squeak and a ring of the bell, and what greeted me was the softest, most sculpted face I had ever seen. Striking, deep brown eyes and a kind smile, probably over six feet. Sleeves rolled up just high enough to hug the mans undeniably impressive arms He must’ve been somewhere in his later 30’s, evidenced by the gentle wrinkle in his brow and bassy voice. He had a light covering of darkly colored stubble, and the crown jewel, that super tight butch cut. For a barber, I kind of expected more style or pompous, something to show off his craft. Here, though, was just an evenly clipped and buzzed gentleman, maybe a #1 all over. It looked soft and plush, like it was begging to be rubbed, and I had trouble even imagining the pleasure of feeling those bristles on my hand. Wait…what was I thinking? I never liked buzz cuts, or short hair at all for that matter. I wasn’t thinking straight, probably the heat.

"Well hello there", the barber grinned down at me.

"Hi…", I had trouble thinking of the words, there was a strong sweet scent coming from inside the shop distracting me.

"Can I help you, boy?". The "boy" sent a warm coil up my spine. I was 20, not a boy.

"Um, well, my friend, Jake, is in there".

"Oh, yes Jake, he’s just having his haircut, he’ll be done very soon, he said you could wait in the car". I tried to crane my neck past the towering barber and through the tiny crack in the door he had opened to catch Jake’s attention, but the man stepped in front of me. "It’s best if you wait for him to finish young man. Unless of course you’d like a haircut, too, which I’d be happy to arrange for you".

"I’d just like to speak with him for a moment if that’s alright". I attempted to place one foot in the door, then the man used his palm and gripped firmly down on my head. He squeezed, hard, and my vision went a little soft followed by a warm, relaxing sensation creeping up my feet. He held me in place there and guided my gaze into his own.

"Young man, if you come into my barbershop it will be for a haircut, and no other reason. This is a business establishment, and I do not appreciate naughty young boys like you coming around and trying to interrupt that business for playtime. Do you understand?".

I was stunned for a moment, caught off guard by just how nice it felt for him to hold me like that. "So, will you be getting a haircut today boy?". This man was off, and Jake was acting out of character, I had to get in there and make sure he was okay. A haircut at the hands of this barber though…

"Yes, sir, I’d like my haircut". My stomach dropped, what had I done.

His hand on my head dug firmly into my scalp, starting a slow and gentle massage, I couldn’t move if I had wanted to. "Good boy, I’m glad to hear that. Go ahead and take a seat inside next to your friend, I’ll be right with you". As he instructed me and his fingers scratched right at my nape, I had to resist the feeling that I had somehow made the right choice.

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