Looking back, it's so painfully obvious. Every clue stands out like a shining beacon, shouting "OF COURSE YOU LOVE HIM, YOU MORON!" Listening to Jake explain to his teacher that yes, he really is going to blow chunks all over the classroom, every embarrassing-in-hindsight scene runs through my head like Marco's Most Cringeworthy Moments Theater. Playing all the hits while we wait for the latest screwup, which should be any minute now . . .

"Another failed date?" Rachel asked with a laugh, leaning against one of the several hay bales that littered Cassie's barn. "What'd you do this time?"

Cassie shot her a reproving look and patted my hand, a move that reminded me of my mother. When I yanked away she looked hurt, but quickly replaced it with an expression of understanding and sympathy that I'd just bet was genuine. I swear, she's like a freaking saint. Who's that perfect all the time?

Somehow I'm the only one who finds it annoying.

Realizing I was being uncharitable, I flashed her my most charming smile and said, "Oh, nothing big. She just didn't appreciate true brilliance when she saw it."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're a regular Casanova. What's this, your fifteenth disaster this month?"

"Only my tenth," I joked, sticking my tongue out at her. Sure, the jabs stung at my precious ego, but I didn't really care. It wasn't like any of these girls were especially important to me. They were cute, don't get me wrong, but . . . I don't know, they were missing that certain special something. That je ne sais quoi that I'd never been able to put into words. "I think I just have the worst taste in girls. No sense of humor at all."

As I embarked on a recap of the date (an epic tale involving the zoo and an extremely affectionate howler monkey) I was aware of Cassie's eyes never leaving mine — aware of it like you're aware of head lice, that kind of itching, squirming discomfort that comes from being watched by someone you'd really prefer to just ignore you. There was something strangely sad and puzzled in her expression, like she was on the verge of figuring out some mystery but not sure she wanted to. Or like a disturbing suspicion was close to being confirmed.

"You've really had a lot of bad luck, haven't you?" she murmured once the story was finished. "With girls, I mean."

I held up my hands, shaking my head and chuckling. "Hey, don't make it sound like I'm some awkward weirdo."

"But you are an awkward weirdo," Rachel interjected helpfully.

"I've been in a bit of a rough patch, but I'm still young and beautiful. Don't worry about me."

She didn't look convinced. "Well, if that's all it is . . ."

"It is." I stopped as Jake entered with Ax, pausing in the doorway to check the sky for Tobias. Standing there, backlit by the sunlight with his torso half-turned away and a hand shading his eyes, he looked strangely eternal. Like some sort of ancient hero resurrected from the annals of history. (Okay, so I might get a little over-flowery when I think about him. In retrospect that should've been a clue.)

I didn't look away until he turned back to us, then I pretended to brush something off my shirt. "Having fun, guys?"

Rachel ordered me to tell the story again, which I did with a bit more flair than the first time; gesturing grandly, I almost smacked Tobias as he swooped into the barn. Ax didn't get the humor, but Jake laughed enough for both of them, and despite myself I felt lighter and more excited than I had before the date of doom.

I was glad it was such a nightmare, because telling the story for him seemed worth it.

The door opens.

"Hey," he says, looking confused and a little worried to see me waiting. "Tobias said something big was going on, but he wouldn't give me any details." His face darkens, and he steps closer until we're nearly touching. "It's not Tom, is it?" he asks quietly.

I swallow hard; I hadn't expected him to get this close, and definitely not with that sad, determined look on his face. I stumble back, shaking my head rapidly and hitting myself in the eye with a curl of almost-black hair (it's beautiful, I know. I'm never cutting it short again). "No, nothing like that. Everything's fine on that front. On all fronts, really." Just make those frown lines disappear, please. Just for a few more seconds before I have to put them back.

He relaxes, though he's obviously confused. "Ooookaaayy," he says. "So what's up?"

"I just . . . wanted to see if we could talk for a little bit." Suddenly needing air, I step back and gesture towards the doors. "Care to play hooky?"

"I guess," he replies, hesitantly falling into step beside me. "But if I fail this class it's your fault."

I snort. "Please, if you do badly it's because you don't understand a single word of Shakespeare. You can't blame me for that."

"Like you do?" he shoots back.

"I do!" I really do.

We're reading Othello in my English class, and if you ask me, Jake's missing out. I'm sure Lear is a really cool guy and whatever, but Othello is timeless. I don't know why we even bother reading the other plays.

I know, I know, you can't believe Marco is enjoying school? And Shakespeare, the most school-y thing in the universe? I was shocked, too. It's just . . . I don't know, something about a guy getting jealous over a love he can never have (well, he can, but he doesn't know that) really resonates with me. Weird, right?

"Let's get into Othello's head for a second, here. You can feel the pain he's experiencing as he watches Desdemona and Cassio. He loves her so much it blinds his rational thought, so that even the most innocent words and actions are fraught with sexual tension. It tortures him, knowing that the woman he wants more than anything doesn't share that desire, and he has to see this agonizing fact play out in front of him over and over again." Normally I ignore my teachers as a rule, but that really got my attention. And since that class, I haven't been able to get it out of my mind.

The thing is, I think I get Othello. You know, aside from him being incredibly gullible and a murderer. I'm not that messed up yet.

Jake and Cassie are really obvious about how they feel, if you know what to look for. I know Rachel and Tobias have some idea — Ax, as usual, is unaware of anything that doesn't have to do with cinnamon buns-uns-uns-sssss — but I'm like a heat-seeking missile that only targets awkward, secret romance. Somehow I'm always looking in the right direction to see their hands "accidentally" brush and linger longer than strictly necessary, the glances that are held just long enough for a delicate pink flush to spread across his cheeks and down his neck, or hear the awkward crack in his voice sometimes when he says her name. Honestly, I wonder how they get anything done with that much energy expended trying not to look like they're a thing. It's not very conducive to fighting a war, is all I'm saying. Did that sound bitter?

Once we were discussing a routine reconnaissance mission and, when he thought no one was looking, he leaned over and gave her a peck on her jawline, just below her ear. She giggled silently and shoved him away before anyone turned around, but Jake noticed that I'd seen. He flashed me a sheepish smile, pressing his lips together as though worried I'd spill the secret to everyone. And part of me wanted to, but I knew it'd just result in them being all cutesy in the open and I'm not sure I could handle that. Besides, I knew he'd get so embarrassed — he's like a kid when it comes to things like that — and I couldn't do that to him.

I grinned back and shook my head, feeling my stomach curdle. The look of relief on his face sent a sharp stab of pain through my midsection, and I curled around myself for the rest of the meeting, trying to smile and joke and be the practical, sarcastic funnyman they expect me to be. Because it's my job and Jake needs me to do it, so I will even as my guts feel like they're trying to twist themselves inside out.

Yeah, I understand jealousy.