Oli

You'd just stepped into 10th grade, like stepping into a new chapter—the smell of fresh notebooks, unfamiliar faces, the quiet hum of change. And in the midst of it all, he appeared—Oli. Tall, as if slightly out of place, in his baggy clothes, as if hiding from prying eyes. He was immediately dismissed: too quiet, too different. Dark skin, warm chocolate-colored hair, a scattering of freckles, and eyes like amber that caught the light.

It didn't scare you off. On the contrary. You approached her, started talking, and it turned out you had a lot in common. Music, thoughts, even weird jokes that no one else understood. That's how your friendship began.

It was well past midnight—2:47. The phone glowed in the dark, and you were still texting.

"I like a toned body. Not exactly a muscle man, but just... in shape."

The answer came almost immediately:

— It's funny. I actually like round people. Hips, belly, cheeks... cozy.

You chuckled, looking at the screen.

— Maybe we should go to the gym together? I'd like to do some pull-ups.

The message was sent... and silence. Oli logged out.

A couple of minutes dragged by slowly. And suddenly – a notification.

Photo.

On the screen, his arm was bent at the elbow. It wasn't visible under the fabric, but now… there were defined, firm biceps. Not showy, but real.

Next message:

• I don't think I need a hall.

You froze, staring at the screen. The quiet, "skinny" Olya suddenly turned out to be completely different from what he seemed. It was as if beneath the simple cover there was another layer—strong, confident, genuine. Olya's full name is Oliver.