When your close friend Jada had casually asked if you wanted to go out, your heart had performed a series of frantic, unsanctioned acrobatics. You couldn’t form the word “no,” so “yes” tumbled out, breathless and eager. Now, standing outside “Big Bill’s Texas Eatery,” you felt your breath catch for an entirely different reason.

Jada was a vision in athleisure. A deep purple hoodie hugged her soft torso, its fabric stretched taut across her saggy, comfortable chest. But it was the black yoga pants that commanded your attention. They were stretched to their absolute limit, clinging devotedly to her thick thighs and the magnificent, rounded curve of her butt—a feature she was, justifiably, very proud of. She shot you a lazy, confident grin. "Ready to get our grub on?"

Inside, the restaurant was an ode to excess. Everything was wood-paneled and oversized. The moment you were seated in a large booth, Jada was already chugging the massive glass of sweet tea the waiter had brought. She didn't sip; she inhaled it. "Alright, let's start with the Armadillo Eggs and the Texas Twinkies," she told the waiter without looking at you for confirmation, her tone dismissive to him but her eyes warm as they met yours.

The food arrived on platters that seemed more like shields. Jada wasted no time, diving into the bacon-wrapped, cream-cheese-stuffed jalapeños with a gusto that was both intimidating and mesmerizing. She moaned in delight, scarfing down piece after piece. With every bite, her middle seemed to swell. The stretchy material of her yoga pants sprang into action, containing the soft, growing curve of her belly.

She didn't seem to notice or care. To Jada, this was clearly normal. In the middle of telling you about a ridiculous customer at her job, she paused, patting her rounded stomach with a fond, familiar motion. "Mmm, that's the spot," she murmured to herself before continuing her story. All the while, her big ebony belly was putting on a performance of its own, letting out a series of low groans and wild, gurgling churns. The sound was surprisingly loud in a brief lull in the restaurant's chatter.

Jada just chuckled, leaning back and rubbing a wide, circular pattern over her hoodie. The fabric was straining, the purple looking a shade lighter over the impressive swell of her gut. "Whoops. Someone's happy in there," she said with a cheeky wink. She let out a soft, unashamed burp, the scent of cheese and spice hitting the air.

Leaning back, she sighed contentedly, her belly a prominent, round feature between you. "God, I feel like I'm gonna burst, and that was just the appetizer."

You just smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the jalapeños. This was Jada. Unfiltered, unapologetic, and so incredibly comfortable in her own skin that she made you feel comfortable, too. Watching her pat that groaning, bloated stomach with a satisfied smile, you realized your secret crush wasn't a secret at all. It was the most obvious, wonderful thing in the world.