"See anything you like?"

It's moments like these where the economic divide between Patrick and you becomes glaringly obvious; weekly trips to the high-end store block downtown had never been your thing until your boyfriend started picking up the bill at his insistence.

"Get whatever you want," he'd said the first time he took you out, shrugging before he gestured at your surroundings and glanced back down at his phone. He'd been fighting off a pesky client via email for the better half of the afternoon— that newbie councilman from the 12th congressional district if you recall correctly— about finances and how much was being allocated to the man's election campaign. "I mean it— it's not a big deal."

"It's not a big deal," said the man who came from old money and made more monthly at his finance firm than you ever would doing business admin. It is a big deal; it just feels wrong to be shopping on Patrick's dime when you have plenty stowed away in the bank for moments like this.

Warm palms rest on your shoulders before they pull you into his chest. "Those are nice," Patrick comments, pointing at some loafers that'd probably be good additions to your business wardrobe. His clean scent of aftershave and cologne wafts all around you, and it's almost impossible to answer— because of how good he smells and how many expensive options of the same style of shoe exist.

And maybe you're just hesitant to let him spoil you, not wanting Patrick to think you're with him just for his money and influence. You see the looks you both get whenever you take a trip out to the shops together; it's not uncommon to see an older guy and someone younger in a similar situation as you and Patrick… but they're not you and Patrick.

"Just get 'em," he sighs, motioning for a salesperson to come over as his hand snakes into your back pocket. "Wear them for your pitch Monday."

His mind's made up, and you know his reward's what you two will get up to after you blow the pitch out of the water.