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"SO, I'm curious," Oliver said, stopping to take a sip of his frappuccino

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"SO, I'm curious," Oliver said, stopping to take a sip of his frappuccino. "Why did you answer the way you did on the prompt? You must have received a bad gift at some point."

It was Thursday morning, two days after I'd swiped right on Oliver on Myxr. He had answered the prompt (about the worst gift you'd ever received) at 4 in the morning, apparently because he had a tendency to "wake up early and start his day with some yoga". 4:30 seemed too early for yoga... But either way, we made plans to meet up Thursday at 10 for coffee at Starbucks. Or, I got coffee (kind of– it was a gingerbread latte since Christmas time was just around the corner, what with it being November) and Oliver got his chocolatey-chip frappuccino.

I could also confirm that Oliver was much more attractive in person.

I shrugged. "I haven't ever gotten a bad gift," I said.

"How is that possible?" Oliver wore a smile on his face, one that was filled with amusement. But not in a way that I was like some sort of circus act. In a way that he was curious and interested in what I had to say, which was nice.

Most everyone in high school had always looked at me as a complete idiot. Like I said, a circus act. No one could ever say anything to me about it, though, because I was intimidating apparently by my size.

Leaving for college was like stepping into an alternate universe where nobody knew who I was. Nobody knew that I wasn't the brightest tool in the shed. Even when they found out, nobody cared. Everyone called me Clay. Not like I minded being called Porkchop, I actually preferred it sometimes. People would make fun of the name Clay even when I didn't think it was so bad.

"Every gift has its own value," I said, pausing to sip on my own warm beverage. "Every gift is special in its own way, even if it seems a little stupid. Someone once gave me a pair of slipper-mops."

Oliver narrowed his eyebrows. "Slipper-mops? Like... mops on slippers?"

"Yeah. You walk around and clean your floors," I said. "And they are surprisingly useful. Especially if you're too lazy to use a real mop. I use them frequently."

Oliver shook his head, again, in amusement. His brown perfectly styled hair didn't even budge. "I like your take on the world, Clay."

I smiled, bringing my gingerbread latte up to my mouth. And then I thought about what Noah said. What if Myxr was just a hook-up app? He'd explained it to me after dinner that hooking up was meeting up with people just to makeout slash have sex. I shivered. Definitely not what I was looking for.

"Can I ask you something now?" I said.

He set his frappuccino down and opened up his arms. "I'm an open book."

"Why did you get on Myxr?" I asked.

Oliver smirked (like a douchebag, I thought) before leaning forward. He looked around before meeting my eyes and pressing his tongue against his cheek. "To be honest?" He asked. "I got off of a bad relationship. So I guess all I really want is to get laid a few times by some hot men."

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