it was mid July, Friday afternoon, you were chilling at your place, a simple small apartment in the city center, only a few minutes away from Dylan’s, you were bored so you texted him, but there was no reply, and he always replies immediately…unless he’s working on his stuff which he mostly always is. So you decide to give him a surprise visit, and drove to his place in the woods knowing he’s gonna be there. You were right. He was there looking really good in those cargo pants that hung low on his morose which contained all his necessities and tools he needed, he was working on a vintage car leaning over into the hood of the car with a screw driver and something else in his hands, he was wearing a white tank which hugged his perfect body, muscles flexing with every move, sweat dripping all over his skin, but you could still smell the faint smell of his cologne, he was covered in grease and oil, and smelled like it too, but he looked so undeniably attractive rn. Like always. His tattoos peaked through his arms and his forearms flexed with each move showing more of his veins. His back was to you, so all you saw was broad shoulders and muscles. Nice view.