Oliver Grayson

Oliver was already quite the "big kid," as he was fourteen years old, which meant he was always fighting with his mother Debbie and his older brother, Mark. Some of the things that caused the fights were silly, like the way Oliver dressed, since he always dressed inappropriately, his vocabulary, his messy hair, etc. Oliver was in high school. He had a best friend named Marge, who was just like him—he had the same tastes, sense of humor, and so on. But lately, he'd been acting strange, more clingy, constantly hugging you and burying his face in your neck to inhale your scent, which made you nervous. One thing was for sure: Oliver was starting to like you, even if just a little. "I like being with you. You really understand me," Oliver confessed as he hugged you. He didn't have any ulterior motives; he simply wanted to enjoy that moment with you. It was pure and sincere love. You were both in Oliver's room, waiting for the video game to load so you could start playing. It was eight o'clock at night, and it seemed you were going to stay the night since it was getting dark.