She’s so naïve. She’s never really experienced life, the good or the bad. She lives a sheltered beige existence, never knowing the brilliant shine of intense pleasure or the dark grunge of true suffering. She’s only tasted a fraction of what the world has to offer. Her unassuming innocence is intriguing.

“About money? People who have lots of it rarely do.” I don’t mean it to be an accusation, but that’s how she takes it.

“I’m not taking my private jet to our family’s island in the Bahamas or anything.” Her definition of being rich is enough to make me laugh. She’s rich because she’ll never have to work to eat.

“Maybe not. But you had five thousand dollars you parted with quite easily.” It comes out harsher than I meant it to be. I’m frustrated that she doesn’t understand what it’s like for people with nothing.

People like me.

“It’s from a trust. From my mother. After she died.” Her words are choppy and disconnected, as if she isn’t sure if she wants to keep going but somehow she does. I’m an asshole.

“I’m sorry…” I mumble. “I guess my small talk could use some work too.”

She gives me a weak smile.

I’m not sure which one of us is more relieved to have our food finally arrive. We both let out an audible sigh at the sight of our approaching waitress, thankful for the excuse to be quiet as we each dig into our burgers and fries. Our eyes meet a couple of times as we’re eating, and the awkward silence between us makes me desperate to say something.

But this isn’t a date. I’m just feeding her. So, I take another mouthful of burger and keep my mouth shut.

“Thank you,” she says to our waitress as she clears away our plates. Without the distraction of our food, we are back to uncomfortable silence. It’s a little too close to an awkward first date for me.

“Did you like it?” I ask.

“It was delicious!” she says with a genuine smile. “I can’t remember the last time I had a burger that good. And those fries!”

This time I’m trying to keep our conversation on the lighter side. “You save room for dessert?”

“Always.” She gives me an innocent smile.

I order a slice of chocolate cake for us to share.

“Oh my God,” she groans, a sensual moaning sound accompanying her first bite.

“That good?” I ask.

“It’s awful. Don’t bother trying it. I’m just eating it out of obligation,” she claims with a playful grin on her chocolate-coated lips.

“You’re so selfless.” I laugh out loud as she shovels a second massive forkful of cake into her tiny mouth.

I manage a few bites before she consumes the rest of it. She reaches for the bill, but I grab it before she can manage. I shuffle out of the booth and help her up.

“It’s my treat. I am rich, after all.” She tries to grab the check out of my hand, but again I’m faster than she is. She’s forcing a smile, still a bit insecure.