Just a Different Pigment

•°Was my pleasure°•

We're passing city streets, houses and everything else that I can't tell apart as it merges together by our speed. The setting sun shines right into my face and I can't recognize where he's taking me. The man who stood up for me. People say not to believe strangers, but there's something that doesn't make me scared. Something makes me trust the deep brown eyes.

He stops in front of a small, but really pretty restaurant close to the beach. Even being outside, I can smell bunch of wonderful scents mixing with the soft scent of the sea. Also, the restaurant looks quite expensive by its elegance and decoration.

"Where are we?" I ask before I get down from the motorbike, handing him the helmet back.

"Malibu, the Billionaire's Beach," he looks down at me and just right now, I notice our big height difference. I'm wondering how old he can be. Doesn't look like a stupid high school boy. He looks older, but I don't mind.

"Never been here?" he adds.

"No, I guess," I give him a small smile.

-

In a moment, I can find myself entering the beautiful restaurant, and him behind me, opening the door for me. As I'm looking around, noticing the sumptuous equipment, I look down at my clothes. A white hoodie crop top, blue jeans and a beige beanie hat. I'm not a fashion stylist but I can tell that street style doesn't really befit to this kind of restaurant.

"Anything wrong?" he asks. He probably noticed that I don't look very happy.

"No, except my clothes," I laugh a small laugh.

"It's okay, we can go to a private section," he smiles and makes my way to a small balcony with a beautiful view of the ocean. Up along the outer wall of the restaurant are the decorative light strings.

While I'm admiring the view, he suggests me to sit down on a leather couch before he sits next to me.

The waitress comes and we both order a chinese with rice and water. She nods and leaves.

I make myself comfortable, leaning back against the backrest. I sigh as Todd comes to my mind again.

"What about I order some wine?" he looks at me and realizes that I'm kind of downcast. I freeze.

"I can't," I simply say, letting out a sigh again. "I'm underage,"

"See? I got it right when I called you 'babygirl'." he jokes, his british accent on point. An unwanted smile appears on my face, crossing my arms.

"How old are you?" he asks, breaking the joking.

"Doesn't telling you I'm underage suffice?" I frown, trying not to make an eye contact, but I can't help smiling again.

"I'm twenty," I decide to say. I'm not the type of person who lies about their age.

"Wow," he acts surprised, "But don't tell me you've never had any alcohol," he teases.

"Can we change the topic?" I try to sound angry, but again - not very succesfully. He laughs and admires that 'no wine today' is okay.

"So, tell me about yourself," he looks at me seriously and I raise an eyebrow.

"There's nothing interesting to say,"

"Oh, c'mon. Everyone's journey is interesting in some way," he gently hits me to encourage and I feel like I got an electric shock. What is wrong with me..

"Do you go to college?" he starts the conversation.

"No, I don't. We don't have money for that. Sometimes I help at my parents' restaurant, but that's not a real job, you know," I start to talk.