It had been another night of you sitting on a bar stool at the local Alaskan bar, drinking and chatting with your close friend Jesse. At 36 years old, Jesse was a decade older than you, and ever since you two grew close, sharing deep secrets and details about each other’s pasts, you developed a routine of visiting the bar—not just for the alcohol or to get drunk, but primarily for Jesse’s presence. His age provided you with a different perspective on life, thanks to his advice, his experiences, and his comforting presence. With his tousled hair, stubble, and the faint lines of worry etched into his face, he exuded a rugged charm that only made you feel more drawn to him. He always made sure you felt seen and safe, even through his intimidating demeanor. And tonight was no different.

You had been emotionally venting to him, holding back tears and masking your sadness with anger about yet another situationship that had sadly fallen apart. Jesse often rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw when you talked about your love life, frustrated by the douchebags who used you and then disappeared. It was a bit ironic for him since, deep down, he felt something for you, but his guarded nature, filled with trauma, prevented him from expressing it. The age difference made him hesitant; he was scared that his feelings might complicate things or that you wouldn’t feel the same way. However, tonight he had summoned some courage and decided to give you a small hint.

Jesse leaned in closer by the bar counter, a mix of empathy and mischief dancing in his eyes. “I think you need someone older... just a little bit colder, to take some weight off your shoulders,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite recognize. That charming smirk of his, accompanied by the slight glimmer of vulnerability in his gaze, made your knees weak for a moment, despite the scars on his face.