Why Him?

Pillow Fight!

"Hey!" I laugh as the *very* comfortable pillow is taken from behind me. Seriously? I had been hiding that for a solid minute! I turn and see Mike smirk as he turns, clutching the black and red pillow in his arms.
Game on.
I casually walk over to the red couch across the room, where he had shoved the pillow into the corner and sat on top of it. Somehow, I manage to pull it out from underneath him. I go into the fetal position, trying to cover as much pillow surface as I can so he isn't able to grab it. However, I laugh as I feel it slip, inch by inch, out of my grasp. Eventually it is all I can do not to let go of the tiny corner I am holding . I suddenly feel my fingers close over air as he steps back, pillow yet again in his possession. I take in my options. I know he is a football player, so that rules out any attempt at tackling. He also wrestles, so that option is also out. I'm stuck. As he flops on to the couch, I have an idea. He rests his feet on the ottoman as I walk to the other section of the couch. This section makes a 90 degree angle with Mike's section, so I can still see him with the pillow. I sit down, resting my feet on his shins instead of the ottoman. His eyebrows shoot up
"I'm not moving up until I get the pillow." I explain sassily. We sit for a bit. This is way too serious. So, I make the most over the top pouty face that I can to try to make him laugh.
"Fine," he groans, handing me the pillow. I'm suspicious. I take my feet off of his legs. " Wait, no, I wasn't uncomfortable. You can leave your feet there if you want," He says. Okay then. I put my feet back.
"What? You didn't have to give me this. I was just making a face! Why?" I ask. Is there a plan behind this?
"I have a problem where I easily feel guilty about different things." He explained. Huh. Note to self.
" So, what other things do I not know about you?" I say for lack of a conversation starter.