“Noo …. I think it’s weird, and why your foot?” I retort, no longer gooey, emotional, and starting to think he is an actual moron for something so lame.

It’s not cute. It’s weird.

“Because that’s how you claim ownership of your toys. I thought you had that movie committed to memory?” He sticks more food in his mouth and taps his fork on my plate to remind me to eat while I keep staring at him.

“You’re not my toy, though!” I retort.

“I am ...