“Why? ... Don’t you think it’s cute that your name is on me. I even made sure it was in your juvenile handwriting, like a personal Sophie mark. Authentic.” He smiles at me, infuriating cute boy expression and no tells whatsoever if he is serious, while I’m starting to think he is.
“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, taps his fork on my plate to remind me to eat and I keep staring at him.
“You’re not my toy though!” I retort.
“I am now.” He winks dirtily.