Don't Explain

seventeen

A couple of hours later, I stirred awake, feeling even more rested than before, still wrapped in his embrace. The simplicity of the day—no drama, no stress—made me feel lighter than I had in a long time.

As I stirred awake, shifting slightly in the cozy warmth of the bed, I felt Prince's hold on me tighten for a brief second before he, too, began to wake up. His arm, which had been draped lazily over me, moved slightly as he blinked awake, his breath hitching in that groggy, just-woke-up way.

I turned my head to glance at him, his eyes still half-closed, blinking against the soft afternoon light filtering into the room. A slow, sleepy smile crept onto his face as our eyes met, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Did I wake you?" I asked softly, my voice still heavy with the remnants of sleep.

"Mmm, you did," he murmured, his voice deep and raspy from the nap. "But I don't mind." He shifted slightly, rolling onto his back and stretching, his hand still resting lightly on my side. "That was a good nap."

I chuckled softly. "Yeah, it was."

For a moment, we just lay there, quietly enjoying the peace, the soft sounds of the desert outside, and the closeness we shared. There was no rush to get up, no pressure to fill the silence. It was just us, wrapped in the quiet comfort of the moment.

Prince rubbed his eyes lazily, his arm still brushing against my side as he stretched out beside me. The peaceful energy from our nap lingered, making everything feel softer, quieter. The world outside felt distant, as if we were in our own little bubble in the desert.

He turned his head to face me, his smile slow and lazy. "I could get used to this," he said softly, his voice still laced with that raspy post-nap sound. There was a tenderness in his words, something deeper than just the casual remark.

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze settle over me. "Yeah," I agreed quietly. "Me too."

For a moment, we stayed like that, lying side by side, just taking in each other's presence. The simplicity of it all—no rushing, no agenda—felt perfect. In that space, there was nothing but the two of us, and I found myself wishing time would slow down even more.

Later in the afternoon, after we had both fully woken up and the sun began its slow descent, we decided to take a drive. The quiet of the desert was wonderful, but there was something appealing about the idea of exploring, finding a little spot to eat and maybe even some unexpected entertainment.

We rolled the windows down as we drove through the open roads, the warm desert air sweeping through the car. Prince had one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on my thigh, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles. The drive was peaceful, and though we didn't say much, the quiet between us felt comfortable.

Eventually, we came across a little roadside restaurant that looked like it had been plucked out of an old movie. It was small, rustic, with a sign that read "Daisy's Diner," and the faint sounds of music spilled out into the parking lot. It wasn't what we had planned, but something about the charm of it caught our attention.

Prince parked the car, and we stepped out, glancing at each other with curiosity. "What do you think?" I asked with a smile, taking in the quirky charm of the place.

He grinned, sliding his hand into mine as we headed toward the entrance. "Looks perfect."

Inside, the diner was cozy and welcoming, with mismatched chairs and old vinyl records hanging on the walls. A small jukebox in the corner played soft rock, and a few locals were scattered at the tables. It had a relaxed, down-to-earth vibe, the kind of place where you could linger over your meal without feeling rushed.