Apparently, Theodore was hungry. Or maybe I was. I can’t remember how the topic of food came up, but now we were sitting in a local burger joint, me dressed to the nines, and him looking like he’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine. It was an interesting clash of worlds.
"Are you sure you want to eat here?" Theodore asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His tailored suit stood out against the cracked vinyl and neon lights like a diamond in a sandbox.
"What’s wrong?" I asked, slowly unwrapping my burger. "Afraid your thousand-dollar suit will get ketchup on it?"
His lips twitched, somewhere between irritation and amusement. "I’m more concerned about the health code violations."
I took a dramatic bite of my burger, letting the sauce smear deliberately at the corner of my mouth
