Ever since that day, he always makes a fuss about your choice of drink, even if you have told him so many times that you are not that weak.

'Whenever you want to drink cola, you call me. We will share half a can, or bottle, or glass—your choice.'

'And if you're so faraway from me, let's say the other side of the town?'

'I will run straight to you.'

'Even so, you'll never know if I drink coke when you're away. I can accept your deal, but I don't have to do it.'

'You will'

'Why are you so sure?'

'Because you love me,' He grinned.

You didn't have any answer to defy that statement ('cause it's so, so true. You are hopelessly in love with him, although you have to endure his overly concern over you—just like a mother hen.)

You just kissed him. And it meant the contract is sealed.