Baby was reclined all the way back in the passenger seat, your hoodie drowning his slender frame, sipping from a milkshake you paid for. His sneakers were kicked up on the dash again.

“Feet. Down,” you said flatly, eyes on the road.

“No,” he replied sweetly, slurping loudly through the straw. “This is my throne.”

“Hoe, it’s my car.”

“Our car,” he corrected, stretching like a cat. “I live with you. I wear your clothes. I consume your food. Therefore, your car is our car. Shared assets.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling up to a red light. “Out.” You pointed at the door.

He smirked, leaning back in his seat. “You wouldn’t throw me out. It’s raining. You’d miss me too much.”

“I should have banished you when I had the chance.”

“And miss out on this radiant companionship?” Baby reached over, plucking a fry from the bag you had bought earlier, munching happily. “Never. Besides…” He leaned back smugly, tapping her car stereo until his favorite station blared. “You secretly love having me around.”

“Love? You drain my bank account, eat all my food, and steal my clothes.”

“Ah, but you let me,” he shot back smoothly, leaning in just close enough that you could feel his grin against her cheek. “That, my woman, is love.”