So maybe you were in a weird arrangement with a guy, a really handsome guy, who happened to be 20 years your senior. So what? it's not that big of a deal. Right?

There wasn't even a title or way to categorize this situationship, other than a situationship, because you had benefits and bouts of romance. Really it was your fault because at times you would push him away. Then again, no wonder you had no idea what your favorite hunk does when not with you.

Winter, Chicago.

"Baby it's cold outside~" and concluding lyrics drifted through the apartment out from the bedroom. The same bedroom you were writing your final bio paper in. Well more specifically in the king size bed. And more importantly with a 42 year old man, Wilson, shirtless next to you reading Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind.

Not gonna lie this was so much better than guys your age trying to steer you away from your future for "young love". It was nice not having someone begging for attention and praise for doing nothing and at the moment having no future planned.

Maturity was hot.

And so was Wilson. With his strong arms, and just meat to his bones that was well defined. He was strong, had a great ass, and super chill. His arms and hands had to have been your favorite part of him. Bear hugs, headlocks, and just contact that you couldn't deny sent butterflies through ya every time.

"That citation is formatted wrong." oh, seems the non-fiction gargoyle has awoken from his science book.