When James Potter said he wanted to drive, he didn't mean it like this.

He'd gotten a car at 15, despite not having a license, simply because his mother wanted him to falsely believe that he had power at such a young age, to show off to all his peers that he was superior in the sense that he had a car and they didn't. The drawback that he didn't know at that time was that he wasn't getting a license any time soon, nor was anyone going to even show him the basics of driving. Euphemia Potter knew how to keep her son level-handed as much as she possibly could.

What was the point in getting a car, even if it was any car he chose, if he couldn't even drive it? That was the point of a car, to take one to the destination that they wanted. It was like holding a piece of meat in front of a dog and pulling it away as soon as they got close enough to nearly taste it. James would have even rathered to get a dingy little car, whose previous owner would have called it something ugly, like Bertha— no offence to anyone walking around the earth with such a name—, so long as he got to drive around in it as much as he wished.

Maybe it was the spoiled little kid in him that was forcing him to have such a mindset, but he liked to think that it was his inner teenage rebel, who had dreams of freedom and the occasional thoughts of the sweet release of death. This was the 21st century after all, where jokes about death were commonplace.

And now, three years later, when he'd finally gotten his license, he'd expected to go on four annual road trips with his best mates and take them around the country because he could at last drive, but in reality? The only times he'd been allowed to take his car, which had not yet been named because he hadn't found any inspiration yet, were for trips to the grocery store, running errands for his parents, and, now, as of late, taking his little sister to her dance classes because their parents had a business meeting to attend to out of the country.

Really, he was stoked to finally be able to take his sweet Bentley out for fresh air, after having rotted inside of his garage for nearly three years, but he couldn't help but admit his disappointment for the entire ordeal. It was like being excited for a ride on a roller coaster, except the roller coaster didn't drop as high as he'd thought it would, and the higher it dropped, the better.

Amelia, his sister, had expressed a desire for dancing when she was younger, probably since James had been her current age, and their mother would not let a passion like that get tossed in the bin. James knew that all too well, having taken crochet classes when he was younger because he'd stumbled upon her doing it one day, and who knew how interesting it was to arrange threads in such a manner that they'd create an entire item of their own? He still had a scarf that he'd knitted hanging somewhere in his room because he'd been so proud of it.

He loved his little sister with all of his heart, really, he did, but if his plan that he'd concocted went accordingly, then he'd be able to finally put his sweet car to proper use, instead of just as the ticket to the grocery store, because eventually, the sight of the watermelons set up on display got sickening after twenty visits.

On the very first day, the first of many he believed to be the ticket to freedom, even if just for three hours, he'd been weighed down with the accumulating pressures of school, only ever increasing by the days as the school year nearly came to an end. It wasn't exactly the actual schoolwork, per say, because he was top of the class, but the amount of it. It probably would have been smart of him to instead do his work, but where was the fun in that? Sleep was for the weak, and Euphemia Potter did not raise him to be weak.

Nope, not at all.

Physical strength? He had loads of that. Emotional strength? He could easily bounce back from a horrible situation.

And now, as they sat in the comfort of his car, with Amelia chattering on about what the gossip going on at school— James lived for that drama, tea he'd happily sip because he was quite interested in the love life of his 12-year-old sister's classmates— he pushed his gear shift to reverse as they pulled out of the driveway.

"Luca says that he fancies Phoebe, but it doesn't make sense at all, because then why would he buy flowers for Georgia?"

"Doesn't Georgia fancy Caleb? And Phoebe fancies Luca, doesn't she?" James said, and Amelia nodded frantically at him.

"Why do boys go around playing with hearts like that? It doesn't make sense at all, James."

"As a member of said gender, I take slight offence to that—"

"It's true," she sniffed, before quickly adding, "Except for you, James. You're the best, lamest brother ever. Plus you can't go around breaking hearts, because you don't ever get a girlfriend."

"I can't believe you can easily insult and compliment someone simultaneously in one sentence," he said, shaking his head in amusement, "As for the girlfriend bit? I've had girlfriends before."

"Not for too long, though."

I'd like to argue that I've yet to meet someone who's caught my eye."

"Maybe it's because you have terrible vision."

"Oi, insult me one more time and I'll throw you out the car."

"I'll tell Mum."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"You have no remorse for a poor bloke like me," he sighed, "But if you do tell Mum, I'll just drive away on Esmeralda here."

"You chose Esmeralda? When?"

About three seconds ago, he'd wager, because it just came out so naturally, and if it was an unconscious decision to call his car by that name, then it was settled. Her name was Esmeralda.

"Yes, is there a problem, Amelia Grace Potter?"

"I can't say anything, because then I'll be thrown out of your car, and I really like these seats."

"You'd better bloody— don't tell Mum I said that to you— like them. Esmeralda doesn't take kindly to insults," he said, patting the piano black of the armrest without taking his eyes off of the road, because a car accident was not in his agenda, not today, not ever.

He heard her pushing some of the buttons, and his eyes flickered over to her small form as she adjusted her seat back, her eyes widened in wonder. The navigation system on his phone prompted him to turn left, and so he did.

"This car is so cool."

"I know. Fifteen-year-old me had fantastic taste," he replied, turning his head towards her suddenly, "Oi, why the sudden interest in Esmeralda? Not trying to impress a bloke with her, are you?"

"No, they're all stupid, and I'm loads better than them. That's why there's so many lining up for me."

"You're full of yourself, 'Melia, but you know, if a bloke ever gives you trouble, you've got to let me know. Don't hide it from me."

"Duh," she said, matter-of-factly, and he smiled at her, leaning over to ruffle her wavy hair, now pulled up into a bun— hair that had been fortunately not been blessed with their father's own messy hair, and thank fuck for that, because she took her vanity very seriously. "James! I spent a long time fixing my hair!"

"It'll get messed up when you're dancing, anyway," he said, waving it off, and after they had pulled up into the lot of the dance studio, he locked the doors, a signal that his sister should know very clearly that he wasn't quite done with the conversation. "All right, so I'll bring you into the studio to check you in and all, and when that's over with, I'm going to dash and do my own thing until it's time for me to pick you up—"

"You want me to tell Mum that you were with me the entire time?" she finished for him.

"Please?"

"She's going to find out."

"Obviously, yeah, but at that point, at least I'll have put Esmeralda to great use."

She stared at him in contemplation, her brown eyes revealing the cogs shifting in her brain as he waited on her answer. "Okay, fine," she said finally, and James let out a breath that he'd been holding.

"You'll do it?"

"Only if you let me drive one time."

"No. No way. Abso-fucking-lutely not."

Her brown eyes pierced into his as she pulled out her phone, making a rather large emphasis of pulling up their mother's number up. "Your last chance."

"FIne. Only once. And only if it's in a parking lot and I'm sitting beside you."

"Deal," she grinned at him, slipping her phone back into her pocket. He rolled his eyes at her, to which she responded with a "Love you."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, unlocking his car, and they strolled into the studio, his keys jangling from his hands.

And he was going to go through with his plan, his carefully-devised plan that he knew his mother would find the true nature of within the week, but of course, life never followed the script that he'd crafted moments before a scene was to unfold.

He looked quite of place among all of the supportive mothers who looked as if they could form a league of Pinterest boards to end all Pinterest boards. He had a feeling that iif he were to attempt to join in on their motherly conversations, he'd either be accepted with welcoming arms or be scorned at because he didn't sport expensive department store perfume and an equally expensive bag. Knowing him, it'd be the latter that would win out. He was not one to bother with these kinds of women.

Amelia had left him— the traitor— to join her group of friends, most likely to continue their conversation about the blokes they— as in, her friends and not herself— fancied and whatnot, and he'd nearly begun to turn around when he'd noticed them giggling and looking in his direction. He chose not to pay any mind to it, but then they walked over to him, Amelia trailing behind them with an apologetic look on her face.

"Hi! You're Amelia's brother?" a blonde asked him.

"Yeah, hullo—"

"She didn't tell us you were so fit," the other one cut in, and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise, because he did not in any way expect to be chatted up by 12 year olds. It made him feel like a creep, even if he didn't have any intentions to divulge them.

"Right, but I don't think Amelia would ever willingly talk highly of me like that, not unless she's being held at gunpoint."

"You're making him uncomfortable, Phoebe," Amelia insisted, tugging on the brunette's arm, "And besides, he doesn't like girls."

"That's a reach, Amelia—"

"It's okay! I already like Luca, and your brother is too old for me."

"Yeah, he's too old," the blonde agreed, "I think he'd be a good match for Lily, though."

"Lily? I don't see it," Amelia repeated in surprise, and James nodded in agreement, not knowing who this Lily was, as she'd never been mentioned in any of Amelia's gossip talks. Perhaps she was a sweet little girl, who didn't concern herself with petty drama, James thought, but then Amelia opened her mouth again, finishing her thought. "Lily's loads too pretty for him."

James let out a strangled noise of defeat. He really couldn't win in this argument against 12-year-olds. He made a great deal of jangling his car keys to show that he was superior in the sense that he was older, more experienced with life, wiser. "Right, I love partaking in your little gossip bubble you've got going on, but I've got things to do, places to go, women to meet."

"He's lying. The only woman in his life is our mum," Amelia said as he turned away. At times like that, he just wanted to strangle her, but more of in a love-hate manner, not because he really wanted to murder her. He loved her far too much for that, and he was a true pacifist.

He started towards the door, and, just as he reached for the knob, the door was flung open, and he found himself face-to-face with the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen. It was almost as if time had stopped and the universe felt pity for the lack of women in his life, deciding that it should end his misery— or add on to his only-ever increasing misery, which made far more sense as far as James was concerned— by introducing her to his life.

Her shockingly green eyes were slightly widened at his sudden appearance in front of her, and her lips were parted open— lips that looked so kissable that it should have been illegal for him to be harbouring such a thought for a complete stranger. He didn't even get to her hair pulled up into a tight, professional bun, a dark, deep red that was the color of the leaves during fall and— did he mention her eyes?

She seemed to have recovered quickly from their sudden meeting before he did, and she offered him a friendly smile, the corners of her pretty lips curving up at just the slightest. "You're not here for dance practice, are you? Only I'm afraid that this class is quite out of your age range."

James could have fallen over from just her words. Oh, the wit. He was a sucker for banter.

Unfortunately, his mouth was not on his side, and he ended up blubbering like a fish out of water.

"Yes— shit— no, I mean—" he started, and she didn't even laugh like he'd expected she would, only staring at him with those curious eyes of hers, "Sorry, I'm more articulate than this, swear. I just came to drop off my little sister, Amelia."

"Amelia? Oh, she's a lovely girl," she said, but then she tilted her head in confusion, "Only, usually your mum brings her here and back. Is she all right, your mum?"

"Mum's healthy as ever. I've started to bring Amelia because I've finally gotten my license, and my parents are off in America for a business trip for the entire week."

"Then, that Bentley outside is yours? I've never seen it around before, and none of the mothers here have been bragging about getting a fancy new car."

"Seems you already know the answer to that."

"Not to mention the fact that I already know full-well of how lavish your family lives."

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I try not to make too big of a deal about it. We donate to loads of charities and have a lot of our own organizations, plus we give a lot to the studio, so it's not like we selfishly sip expensive champagne and laugh at the lower class."

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to—"

"I know," he said, smiling at her, and she tucked her stray hairs behind her ears, returning the gesture.

"So you're James, then? Not to sound like a stalker or anything, only your mum brings you up a lot when we talk."

"Yeah, I reckon that'd be me."

"Lily," she replied, her lips quirking upwards as she held out a hand for him to shake, but the name rung out quickly in his head, because this was Lily. This was the person who Amelia's friends thought would make a good match for him, who Amelia had suddenly dismissed as being out of his range, and he'd agreed because he thought she'd be one of her little friends, not this beautiful being who had obviously ascended from the heavens above.

Amelia didn't think they'd make a good match?

He couldn't trust her judgment anymore.

He'd been staring for too long, and she took it as disgust, or resent, or some other negative feeling, because she nodded stiffly, placing her hand back at her side. "Right. Okay."

She'd begun to walk away, when he'd registered the implications of his actions and ran in front of her. "No, wait!" She stopped in her tracks and stared at him as he took her hand in his, shaking it frantically. "I was— It's a pleasure to meet you, Lily. I— sorry if I came off as rude. It's just, I was… nevermind, it doesn't matter."

"You're sweet," she smiled, "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've really got to teach the class. I'll see you again, won't I?"

"'Course." She beamed at him, an action that sent his heart soaring into the third dimension, if it hadn't already gone off into the clouds when they'd first made eye contact, and she turned towards the girls, completely unaware of the effect she had on his poor little heart.

He should have walked out, should have gone to the movie theater down the street from the place, or to the arcade that had just recently opened, or anywhere so as to not raise suspicion. He knew all too well that once Amelia, his mother, and Sirius found out about his infatuation for the redhead that they'd all take the mickey out of him, if Amelia didn't already notice the googly-eyes he had been making towards Lily as soon as she'd walked in through the door.

But, like the idiot that he was, he was willing to take whatever was to be thrown at him, because he was surely not going to miss out on catching glimpses of the pretty woman— and he meant it in the least creepiest way. Swear.

They'd begun with warm-ups first, and James knew that they were stretching and doing all sorts of exercises, the athletic and football-captain side of him being all too familiar with such. Obviously, there routines were ones James had no idea of, but since Lily had made a great deal out of stretching— for obvious reasons— he assumed that these methods would help increase flexibility. He was not going to say that he was staring at certain features of the redhead being displayed for him. He was most definitely not staring at her lovely arse.

Three long hours of her lovely arse, and her lovely face, and her lovely voice, and lovely smile and—

Fuck.

He had to be the biggest idiot known to man, because he'd just made this poor, sweet woman into his victim of some sort, and he'd gone on to taking the creepy route by staring at her while she taught a class of kids. Oh, what would his mother say now if she knew? Probably run him over with his car.

And despite that, he still continued to watch the class. She was so sweet and patient, so willing to help if someone didn't exactly get the move, and she'd go through the movement in full detail, counting the intervals and miming the steps. She looked graceful in her demonstrations and enthusiastic when her pupils landed a move, clapping her hands and congratulating them.

Amelia had looked in his direction a few times, shooting him a knowing look but not saying anything— at least, not yet, anyway—, but she'd quickly returned to her class, because she had more important things to do than take the mickey out of her brother. The latter was a priority, but the former was higher on such a list at the present moment.

They'd gone on very brief breaks— three, to be exact— and they'd all turned out to be missed opportunities to talk to the redhead, because with twenty-two students in the room, she was bound to end up talking to at least one of the girls in those periods. Seeing as how he didn't know anyone, save for his sister and Lily— and he didn't even know her all that well— he had to stand awkwardly to the side, because his sister had far better options to engage in conversation with.

Perhaps she'd taken pity on him, but then Lily had approached him, a small smile on her face as class ended. "You haven't left," she observed.

"I've got to support my little sister. I'd like the recognition as World's Best Brother, see."

"Is that why you've been staring at my arse the entire time?" she asked, and he felt his face growing hot at the sheer embarrassment of having been caught. It was an ugly blush that he had, not even wanting to call it a blush because he felt as if he'd been reduced to having a prepubescent crush, where it started at the base of his neck and grew upwards until it consumed all of his face in red.

He was caught red-handed.

And it wasn't as if he was being subtle about it. He was the only person in the room who wasn't there for practice, and there were mirrors littering the place, so the chances of her catching him on one of the many reflections wasn't all that low. Granted, he'd been pretending to be on his phone the entire time, and one would have to have been looking his way to have noticed. If Lily had noticed, then— Yes! He could come up with a diversion to avert the fact that he was in fact staring.

"The fact that you've noticed means that you've been staring at me the entire time as well."

Got her.

"That's quite presumptuous and arrogant of you to accuse me of such a fact."

"But I'm right."

"In saying that I've been staring, you're also admitting that you've been staring as well."

Got him, more like. "Shit— I, you got me, all right? I'm sorry. I didn't intend to make you uncomfortable. Look, if it helps, I'll walk out right now and never step foot in this establishment ever again, and I'll leave right away as soon as I drop my sister off every day—"

"Hey, it's all right," she laughed, "I've got an amazing arse, and I'll let it slide, only because you're pretty."

"Pretty? I've been told by 12-year-olds that I'm not pretty enough for you."

"And what do they know? I've got much better eyes for the finer things in life, and besides," she started, her eyes flickering towards the group of girls in the other side of the room and lowering her voice, "It's not as if I wasn't staring at your arse."

He'd nearly fallen to the ground at her admission, but somehow, he'd retained the ability to maintain his cool composure, thankfully. Maybe it was watching all of the practising that had allowed for his nimbleness, or maybe his body had taken pity on him just as the universe had.

"Mine? Yeah, I reckon they're quite firm. I'd grope myself, too, just to prove a point, only I don't think that'd leave a good impression on the girls in here. Just a hunch."

"I think I'll have to test that for myself sometime, as well."

"You're right. Equality and all that, right?"

She smiled at him. "Right."

"What I'm about to say next, promise you won't take offence to it?"

"It depends on what you're about to say," she replied, and he nodded, "But, I have a feeling that I wouldn't have taken offence anyway. We've both established that we've got great arses to each other."

"Great. You look a bit young to be a dancing instructor, and so you've either hit the genetics jackpot when it comes to age and beauty, or—"

"Or," she replied, unable to stop the smile that was threatening to form on her face, "I'm only 18, and I'm filling in for an instructor because she's on maternity leave."

"It's definitely the first one, you old lady," he said, and she laughed out of those pretty lips that formed the foundation of her smile. "How long have you been dancing?"

"This is such a cliche, but I've been doing it my entire life."

"Ah, no, my sister's the same, except obviously you're more experienced and all. But, if you're 18 like me, then how come I haven't seen you at school? There's just the one in our immediate area."

"Oh, I've been homeschooled for about as long as I've been dancing. My parents can't afford to pay for both, and they're really supportive people, so they've let take on my passion for it."

"Must be bloody nice," he said, "No homework to worry about."

"I suppose that's one perk I've never really thought about, but it's all work from home, so I guess it's the same?"

"Technicalities," he waved it off, "It's nice of your people to let you put your passions first."

"It is, isn't it?" she agreed, "Obviously I still prioritize school, of course. It'd be a shame if I just let dancing define me."

"Wait, you're telling me that your only purpose isn't to dance? What? A shocker, that."

"God, sarcastic or not, I'd much prefer a bloke think that my purpose is to dance rather than to have sex with them."

"Shit, blokes with that sort of mentality are disgusting. I'm sorry, Lily."

"For what?" she asked.

"Sorry that there are men roaming this planet thinking that the only reason women— wonderful, amazing, bloody cool women— have graced their undeserving selves with their presence for sex. It's— women are fucking awesome. Like, you could push an entire child out, but I'll bloody cry if I get so much of a paper cut."

"Well, to be fair," she started, bashfully tucking her hair behind her ears, some strands falling out despite the fact that she'd put it up, "Paper cuts are really painful."

"That's a really shit argument."

"It is, but it's because I agree that us women are amazing."

"I also concur."

Her lips quirked up for possibly the millionth time because of his doing. His doing. He deserved a pat on the back for being able to bring a smile to her face, even if her beauty had rendered him physically incapable of witty banter. "You've said that."

"Makes more room for emphasis," he shrugged.

"But, I'm sure you're fully aware that there's men out there who are just as great."

"I know. I'm right here."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled in spite of herself. "Do you pride yourself in complimenting yourself?"

"Right, how could I be so selfish as to compliment only myself?" he responded, leaning down so that their faces were merely inches apart, and god, her eyes shined even more when he was up closer to her. "You're beautiful. No ulterior motive or anything."

"None?"

"Nope."

"That's unfortunate."

"Oh. Why is that?"

She made a great deal of checking the time on her wrist, despite the fact that there was no watch present, and she beamed up at him. "Looks like I've got to go."

With that, she gave him a pat on his arm, appearing as calm as ever while James's own traitorous heart rammed against his ribcage, wanting to get as close as it possibly could to the redhead, who had picked back up on her lesson. He patted his heart sympathetically, because he too wanted to be close to her.

He wanted her to come back, to fully explain to him what exactly was 'unfortunate', because even though he had a vague idea of what it would be— or, at least a vague idea of what he wanted it to be— he wanted to hear it from her mouth. He was a human who constantly needed reassurance and confirmation, after all.

He couldn't even approach her to seek an answer, because the fancy mothers of the girls had arrived to pick them up, which, of course meant time to start up conversation with the redhead. He couldn't even stop to wait his turn, because he couldn't very well keep Amelia waiting. That was far too selfish of him, and he knew that she was tired from all the hard work she'd put in that day.

He was a good brother, and he wasn't going to do that to his little sister.

Of course, any of his charitable actions were not returned, because as soon as he'd started up the car, Amelia had immediately bombarded him with that infamous line that he'd been expecting from her since the beginning of class. "You like Lily, don't you?"

"Please refrain from talking to the driver. It serves as a distraction and may very well lead to vehicular homicide," he said, pulling out of the parking space and onto the road.

"What? We always talk in the car together, Big Brother."

"Yeah, well, that was before I stressed the importance of safety when driving."

"You make sure I have my seatbelt on at least three times before you start driving," she pointed out, and he cursed whatever was in charge of the gene pool for the Potter family, because she was much too smart for her own good.

"I'm stressing it even more now. Road rage is all the rage nowadays, it seems."

"You were staring at her the entire time."

"Who? The road? I didn't realize we were gendering inanimate objects now."

"Lily."

"What about her?"

"You fancy her, right?"

"Now where would you get such a ridiculous idea from? Swear, 'Melia, you've been watching too many of those romance movies."

"Then why, Big Brother, did you stay back?"

"To love and support you wherever you go. I'm going to uni soon, and I won't be able to see my favourite sister for much longer."

"I'm your only sister, and gross."

"Gross? I'll have you know, Amelia Grace, that there is nothing disgusting about my brotherly love for you."

"Whatever," Amelia said, and he was able to relax for a quick second, thinking that she'd dropped the matter. He was, of course, a fool for assuming such a thing. "Lily's really pretty."

"She is, isn't she?" he agreed, nearly melting at just the thought of her and her pretty green eyes, but then he'd nearly slammed on the brakes at the fact that that was exactly what his sister had been trying to get him to admit. "Shit, buggering fuck."

Amelia merely looked out the front window in victory, a smug expression on her face. "I knew it."

"Oi, I can acknowledge someone's beauty and not fancy them."

"Is that the case with Sirius?" she asked sweetly.

"You really want me to force you out of the car, do you?"

"You say that all the time, but it never happens."

"First for everything," he said, and he pulled off to the side of the road. He was most definitely not going to kick her out, but his flair for the dramatics had gotten the best of him. "Out."

"No."

"Yes."

"No," she insisted, "You'd never do that to me."

"I'm doing it now, aren't I?"

"Not really. You're not pushing me out or anything."

"I'm not trying to hurt you."

"You're not trying to get me out, either."

"Thank you for complying with my wishes," he said dryly, pushing the gas as he pulled back onto the road.

"You and Lily would make a cute couple."

"You think?" he inquired, his eyes darting towards his sister momentarily.

"Yeah. You two were smiling the entire time you talked, and I've never seen you smile so much. It makes me happy to see you so happy like that, Big Brother."

"Didn't you say you didn't see us together like that?"

"I can't just compliment you like that in front of my friends!" she insisted, "I've got to rib you. It's an unspoken rule between siblings. Also, that was before I saw you two together."

"Right, so I think it's safe to assume that we'll be the talk of your little preteen gossip."

"Oh, you already are."

"I'm flattered," he deadpanned.

"You should be. You haven't had a girlfriend in a long time."

"Thank you for pointing that out, Mum."

"I think that's going to change soon."

"Shit, it'd better."

They pulled up into the driveway of their house not too long after, and James was currently drowning himself in his coursework, the obvious reason being because he was a good student, and the other reason being that he wanted to get a certain redhead out of his head before his thoughts escalated into something perverse.

He was about to finish on his literature essay that wasn't even due until the next week, but then Amelia knocked at his door, having learned her lesson when she'd nearly— nearly— walked in on him being a normal teenage boy doing normal teenage things, and he'd yelled at her a great deal for it. "James, could you look over my homework?"

"'Course, 'Melia."

She smiled at him, climbing up his bed and perching at the very edge, dangling her legs as his eyes skimmed over her math, remembering when life was as simple as solving basic little equations. He'd almost sighed at how peaceful the scene was, that was, until Amelia, who was one to always speak her mind, opened her mouth. "So you do fancy Lily?"

"God, I can't wait until you fancy someone. See who's laughing then. Number 8 is wrong, by the way."

"What?"

"Yeah, see, because you've got to isolate the variable so that you could—"

"No, not that. I just think it's funny that you'll somehow find out when I fancy someone like I'm going to tell you myself."

"You are," he assured her, handing her the page so that she could fix her mistake, "Because your heart's going to be fluttering when you think about that person, and you're going to tell your big brother because he's your best friend, even if you won't admit it yourself."

"I hate it when you're right."

"I love to pride myself with that knowledge."

"I was talking about the homework."

"Yeah, yeah," he smiled, "So was I."