“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, genuinely not knowing for once. The fog is still there, but it’s paled, becoming lifeless and limp where it was once an aggressive, all-consuming force. Adam feels withdrawn—distant in a way that makes my insides ache. Even when I get pulled under by the tide, I miss his feelings when they aren’t there.

“Almost never,” he laughs darkly. My heart clenches in pain—my own pain. I would give anything to make Adam okay.

He glances up at me again, before rolling his eyes at my worried expression. He sighs again, quick and overblown, his cheeks puffing out in drama.

“I don’t know,” he says after a moment. “It comes and goes in waves, you know?”

“I do.” I nod vigorously to keep from laughing at Adam’s choice of words. “I really, really do.”

“There’s something strange about you, Caleb.” He squints at me and I feel a small curl of curiosity bend out of him and tickle my ribs. I should be worried that I’ve shown my hand—that he’s getting suspicious—but then I feel a bit of that good blue softness stretch out of him and meet my yellow. Suddenly, we’re in that green space and the tiniest ghost of a smile is trying to come to life on Adam’s face.

I look away, instantly shy at the swell of positive feeling between us. It’s fragile and precious and I know if I open my mouth I’ll ruin it.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing, by the way,” Adam says, and I can hear the small grin in his voice. I want to see it, so I look at Adam again and the butterflies reenter my stomach, stronger and more welcome than ever. The desire to reach out to him grows and Adam is looking at me like he’s thinking the same thing. His face leans closer to mine just a fraction and time stops. There’s a fizzy feeling in my chest but before I can do anything about it (or let him do something about it), panic takes hold of my body and I flinch back.

“Caleb?” Adam’s voice is small and I feel the hot rush of embarrassment wipe out all the butterflies like a meteor.

“I’m fine,” I lie on autopilot (it’s always a lie). “I just—I remembered that I promised my dad I’d help him with something tonight before bed and it’s getting to be that time so I should go.”

A fight-or-flight response has kicked into gear without my permission and, before I know it, I’m hopping off the bed and moving toward Adam’s bedroom door.

“Oh”—Adam stands too, blushing—“okay, yeah, I’ll, uh—I’ll walk you out.”