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“Don't get ideas.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Liar.”

“Improving.”

That earns another smile.

We stand there in silence for a while, and for once I do not rush to fill it.

Earlier today, Sweet told me the school was hers.

She told me she was staying because she found something here that belonged to her before it belonged to anybody else.

Then she looked me in the eye and told me not to ask her for an answer about us yet.

I said okay.

So I do not ask.

Sweet studies my face.

“You listened.”

“Yeah.”

“When I told you not to ask yet.”

“Yeah.”

Her mouth twists. “You are making me suspicious.”

“Of what?”

“Personal growth.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“On you? Extremely.”

I almost smile.

Sweet looks down, then back at me.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

“I know.”

Her eyebrow lifts.

I catch myself.

“I heard what you said.”

“Better.”

She takes a breath.