“You’re yellow,” I said in a small voice.

He flicked a glance at his hands, then concentrated his stare at me again, confused. “What?”

I took a deep breath. “You’re yellow. Like, sunshine-bright yellow. That means you’re trustworthy. You believe in saving the world. You’re yellow. But you’re also a little bit gray. Or you were. That has been kind of going away for a while now. Gray means you were hiding something. But I’m pretty sure that something had to do with Leon and Javi and that mess with Leon’s sister.”

His lips parted. The air between us felt full and heavy. He had told me in a moment of vulnerability about the gang war that resulted in his sister’s death and his brother’s incarceration. Maybe he’d forgotten telling me. Maybe he’d hoped I would forget.

“This restaurant is swanky as fuck, so it’s off-white swirling with lots of pastels. Like an opal.” He looked around, his mouth still open. “Not the actual restaurant itself,” I said. “The air. It’s pearl air. And you leave yellow on the tablecloth and sometimes when you’re really mad at me, I can see rusty starbursts try to break through the yellow on your forehead, but they can’t, because you’re that yellow.”

“I don’t—” he started, but his voice was soft, husky, and I didn’t let him finish.

“I see colors.” I gave an impatient head shake. “I mean, everyone sees colors, but I see them in places where other people don’t.” The waiter came with our food, and I sat back, pressed my lips together until he left. As soon as he’d gone, I pointed to my lobster. “The word ‘lobster’ is like a speckled blue and black. Blue because it lives in the ocean, and everything related to the ocean comes at me in blue. Except for the actual ocean. It’s pink. I can’t explain it. Black speckles because lobsters aren’t too pretty. Um, ‘three’ is purple. The word ‘restaurant’ is the color of bread.” My confession was coming fast now, my heartbeat speeding up. I suddenly wanted him to know everything, all at once. “Rebecca Moreno’s license plate is bubble gum, pearl, blue, bronze, silver, foamy sea green. JSB946. It’s easy for me to remember because I remember the colors.”

“Oh my God,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now. “Your hunches.”

I nodded, tears filling my eyes. “Peyton had it too. That’s how I found all those clues. She was leaving them for me in colors. They weren’t hunches. They were just hard to explain without sounding crazy.”

He sat back, laying his napkin on the table next to his untouched plate. I could practically see his mind spinning. “And that’s why Peyton had your number in her phone.” I nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”