u/Bimbokaleigh

The breakfast rush had finally slowed, the clatter of plates and coffee mugs fading into the background hum of the restaurant. You adjusted the hem of your black polo as you walked toward a booth near the windows, not thinking much of the three men sitting there until one of them looked up and grinned. “Damn,” the broad-shouldered one said immediately, leaning back against the booth. “We got a hottie serving us today.” Heat rushed straight into your face. You tried to play it off professionally, eyes dropping to your order pad as you asked what they wanted to drink, but your blush betrayed you instantly. The muscular guy noticed too — you could tell by the amused little smirk that spread across his face. “There it is,” he chuckled. “Got him blushing already.” His friends laughed softly, not in a cruel way, more entertained than anything. You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of yourself: the fitted polo hugging your slim frame, the cargo pants you’d picked because they hugged your hips tighter than regular work pants. “You know,” the muscular guy continued while you scribbled down the drink order, “you should be wearing yoga pants like the other servers.” You looked up before you could stop yourself. “What?” “I’m serious,” he said. “Those flared ones? You’d look good in them.” Your stomach flipped. The way he said it wasn’t mocking at all — if anything, it sounded completely genuine. His eyes dipped briefly down your body before meeting yours again. “And probably a thong underneath,” he added with a teasing grin. Your face burned even hotter. If only he knew. Because at home, hidden in dresser drawers nobody ever saw, you already owned several pairs of soft flared yoga pants. And panties. More than a few. Cute ones, lacy ones, seamless ones you secretly loved how they felt against your skin. Wearing them had always been private — something you never imagined anyone would guess just by looking at you. Yet somehow sitting there in that booth, smirking confidently across the table, this stranger felt dangerously close to figuring you out. You shifted your weight nervously, suddenly very aware of how snug your pants felt around your thighs and butt. The guy noticed that too. “There’s the blush again,” he said softly, almost amused. “Guess I struck a nerve.” You laughed awkwardly under your breath, trying to recover some professionalism. “You guys want coffee or not?” “All day,” one of his friends joked. But the muscular one kept his eyes on you while he answered. “Yeah. Coffee. And maybe next time, the yoga pants too.”