“Yeah, of course.” I smile. “Now I get to openly ogle you in your uniform.” I waggle my eyebrows and Caleb blushes up a storm. I still get a nervous thrill every time I flirt with him—like there’s always the chance that it’s going to go wrong—but watching the red rise up his neck into his cheeks is worth the risk.

“I knew you didn’t actually think we looked like giant candy canes.” He laughs and it’s my turn to blush. I want to shove at him but fear messing up the nail polish, so I just smile and shake my head.

“Oh my god,” he says suddenly, a surprised look coming over his face.

“… what?”

“You were jealous,” he breathes, like he’s just had an epiphany.

“Um, when?” I ask, knowing there could be lots of times to choose from.

“About Caitlin and the dance,” he says. “When she asked me, that’s what that was. That dripping, oozing stuff in my chest.”

“Ew, what?” I laugh. “Is that what jealousy feels like?” I love hearing Caleb describe emotions. He’s gotten more and more comfortable explaining his ability to me, and I could listen to him talk about it for hours.

“That’s what it felt like then,” he says. “It’s different now, when you get jealous. Like with Damien—when you were confused about why I wanted him to like me.”

“To be fair, I was confused for a lot of reasons,” I say. But I want to hear more. “Why was it different?”

“I think because we’re together now?” Caleb tilts his head like he’s tuning in to the radio of my emotions. “Like, it’s less pointed than it was with Caitlin. God”—he shakes his head and smiles—“there were so many things about you that I just didn’t get for the longest time.”

“But you get them now?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m starting to.” He smiles.

“You know,” I say, “you can always ask me what I’m feeling. I’ll tell you.” I do my best to really believe this, knowing that there are still things I haven’t told him, and that Caleb can feel that desire to hide.

Wanting to mean it must be enough, because Caleb says, “I know,” and we grin dopily at each other before I ask him to tell me more about the scrimmage. Caleb grows animated, and I keep having to pull his hand back down as he gestures, causing both of us to laugh. It’s been twenty minutes and I’ve barely painted one hand.

“I think Chloe might come to the scrimmage too,” Caleb says.

“Chloe the mind reader?” I ask.

“That’s the one.”