I'll wait for you (Dayasco)

The embarasment

I awoke nestled against Daya's chest. After the horrors he'd endured the other night, he seemed back to his usual self. I could touch him without him flinching, and he welcomed my embrace. He rolled over, still half-asleep, and I could feel his hardness against my thigh.

"Good morning, sunshine," I teased.

"I can't help it," he protested his voice groggy from sleep. "It happens every time I wake up, you know that."

"Yeah and  about fifty times throughout the night," I added grinning. "I always feel it poking me in my ribs or back."

We erupted in laughter, our bodies entwined. I checked my phone and saw a message from Irene inviting us to lunch at a quaint cafe near her place. I turned to Daya, "What do you think?" Not wanting to force him out of the house again if he wasn't ready.

"Sounds great," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

We got dressed, and as I slipped on a ribbed dress, I couldn't help but scrutinize myself in the mirror. My bra was too bulky under the thin fabric.

"Just take it off," Daya suggested.

"But—"

"No buts," he said. "You'll feel so much better without it I promise."

I reluctantly removed my bra, and he was right. The dress now draped flawlessly over my body. As I uncrossed my arms nervously to show him, I could see his jaw drop.

"Wow, Bosco," he stuttered. "You look... incredible and they look so, so pretty... it's so beautiful."

A surge of confidence washed over me knowing how much Daya appreciates my body. I leaned in to cuddle him, my chest pressed against his. He felt so protective over me a I cuddled against him tighter.

"Let's go," I said, taking his hand. "We have a cafe to try and actually find!"

Hand in hand, we left our cozy little apartment and headed towards the cafe, following maps on my phone like tourists. We were like two excited kids, our minds filled with anticipation of the delicious food we would soon be savoring.

As we entered the cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the soft notes of jazz music. The space was adorned with a striped awning and vintage posters, creating a charming and inviting atmosphere.

Irene was already there, her infectious smile illuminating the table she had sat down at. Irene greeted us with a warm hug, stopping to make sure Daya was okay with that before she flung her arms around him. Daya's smile seemed to stretch from ear to ear as he chatted with her like she was just an old friend.

We sat down at our table and ordered an array of pastries and coffee. As we talked and laughed, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Here I was, surrounded by people who loved and supported me unconditionally.

Daya's fingers brushed against mine beneath the table. I looked up into his eyes and saw a reflection of the same love and happiness I felt.

The jazz music in the cafe was a low thrumming counterpoint to Irene's incessant chirping. She was in full-on, protective older-sister mode, perched on the edge of her seat, her hazel eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Honestly, Bosco, those hormones are doing wonders for you," she said, her voice a husky whisper over the clinking of coffee cups. 'Look at you, all curvy and... well, you know."

She winked, taking a bite of her croissant, the crumbs dusting her dark hair. I could feel my cheeks warming up. Irene, bless her heart, was just trying to be supportive, but these kinds of conversations always left me a little embarrassed.