Alex must have gone back to Amor Amici first thing in the morning because his story is online by 9:00 a.m. There’s no mention of me, so he kept his promise. The mural was probably some of my best work, and I have no doubt it had to do with my mood when I painted it. That kiss I shared with Alex left me feeling like a high school girl who just got asked to prom. I still can’t believe he’s willing to jeopardize his career for me. It makes me nervous at the same time because Alex doesn’t really know me. Or maybe he does. In the little time we’ve spent together, he’s figured out more about me than most guys I dated for months.

“How many times are you going to read that?” Elana asks, looking over my shoulder.

“Shouldn’t you be teaching a class?” I ask her. This is my prep period, not hers.

“I got a student teacher. Figured it was about time I let him see what he can do on his own.”

“On his first day?” I ask.

She shrugs. “He’s been student teaching with Rich up until this point.”

I scowl. “Poor kid.” Rich Masters is sixty years old, hard of hearing, and has the worst breath known to mankind.

“Yeah, Rich wasn’t letting the kid do any teaching, so I told his advisor he should come student teach with me instead. I think Rich was happy to have the kid out of his hair—what’s left of it at least.” She smirks and elbows me, but I don’t respond. “What’s wrong with you? You wanted this, right? Alex is writing the stories just like you hoped he would.”

I look around the empty supply closet, making sure we’re alone. No one ever comes in here besides me and Elana. It’s sort of our hideout. “I kissed him last night.”

“That’s great!” She grabs my arms, squeezing me in her excitement.

“While I was painting the new mural,” I add.

“So he knows?” She drops her arms. “Why didn’t you call me last night?”

I shake my head and start pacing the small space between the shelving. “I don’t want to get you involved. I don’t want him involved either, but he took my brush and did a little painting himself.”

“Whoa.” She holds her hand up in front of me, forcing me to stop. “So he’s planning to go down with you?”

“I’m not letting him. It’s completely crazy.”

“It’s just like you to meet a guy in the strangest way possible and then get him to fall madly in love with you.”

“He’s not in love with me, Elana.” That’s impossible. “He brought me hot chocolate so I wouldn’t get cold while I was painting in the dark.”

Her features soften, and she gets that Aw! look in her eyes.

“Stop it right now.”

“Stop what?” she asks, feigning innocence.

“You know what. You’re practically marrying me off in your mind.”

“When do I get to meet him? Because the three seconds I interacted with him in the parking lot doesn’t count.” The fact that she didn’t deny it only assures me I’m correct.

“I have no idea when I’ll see him again.” I have his number from his voicemail message, but what would I say if I did call him? “Thanks for making sure I was warm while I was committing a misdemeanor?”

“You have to see him again.” She’s using her teacher voice on me.

“Elana, think about this. Seeing him means putting him at risk. He should out me in his articles. He has every reason to.”

“Except that he clearly wants to be with you, which means he won’t turn you in. He implicated himself the second he pressed that paintbrush to the building. He did that for you.” She presses her hand to her forehead. “God, please don’t mess this up. You’re so dense when it comes to men. Please trust me when I say you have to go out with this man again.”

I want to. I really want to. “He offered to come to the board meeting on Tuesday night.”

Elana shakes her head. “No way. You aren’t waiting until Tuesday to see him. You have the whole weekend before then. Call him.”

I haven’t decided what to do this weekend. Do I risk painting another mural? According to Alex’s article, the owner of Amor Amici was delighted when he arrived at work and saw the mural. He heard about the publicity Bonnie’s Boutique and Fitness World were getting, and he was happy to be in the spotlight next. I couldn’t have asked for these business owners to react better than they are. One of the reasons I chose Bonnie’s as the first location for a mural is because I’ve known Mrs. Hershel for years and knew she’d never press charges against me. I hoped the mural would drive some more business her way, which it happily has.

“What are you doing?” Elana shakes her head at me. “You’re trying to talk yourself out of this, aren’t you?”

“No. I just haven’t thought things through yet. I need time.”

She sighs. “Look, I was in the office this morning, and Principal Perry got a call from Superintendent Turner.” She pauses, and I know what she’s not saying.

“There’s no hope for the art program, is there?”

She pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry, sweetie. We all know budget cuts are a bitch.”

“I guess I should start looking for other jobs.”

“You have to finish out the school year first. It’s only October.” She pulls away but keeps her hands locked on my arms like she’s afraid I’ll flee from the storage closet and keep running right out of the school.

“My classes are semester-long courses. They could cut the art program as early as December.” Two months and I’ll be out of a job. It beats being in jail serving up to a year for vandalism, but it still hurts.

“We’ll get through this. I promise.” She squeezes my hand.

The bell rings. “I have to get to my next class while it still exists,” I say. I wipe my damp eyes with the backs of my hands and walk out of the storage closet.

The rest of the day passes in a complete blur. It’s hard to teach students the importance of precise brush strokes when I know they’ll have no art left in their school careers after the budget cuts go into effect.

The only thing that perks me up is when three o’clock rolls around and Alex’s number shows up on my phone.

“Hey, Van Gough. I wasn’t sure if I’d be hearing from you again.”

“Van Gough,” he says. “He’s the one who cut off his ear, right?” He sucks in a loud, sharp breath. “Yeah, I have an aversion to blood, so that would never work for me.”

I laugh. “Okay, Monet it is then.”

“Much better. I think,” he says. “So, it’s Friday night, and I’m sure you already have plans, but on the off chance you don’t, would you want to go to Last Call with me?”

“You hang out at Last Call?” I ask him, gathering my things and turning off the lights in my classroom.

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“It’s a local hangout. You said you didn’t grow up here.”

“I live here now, though. Besides, the crew at the paper practically lives there.”

Great. I’m not sure running into any reporters is a good idea right now. If I’m going to get caught, I’d rather Alex be the one to tell the tale of my pathetic and illegal attempt to save my job. “Oh, is it a group thing?” I ask, walking down the hall toward the back doors.

Elana falls in step with me as I pass her classroom. Her head cocks, and she mouths, “Alex?” while pointing to the phone pressed to my ear.

I nod.

“Do you want it to be a group thing?” Alex asks.

“No,” I say much too quickly.

He laughs. “Okay, you want me all to yourself. I completely understand.”

“That’s exactly it,” I say, laughing again.

Elana smiles at me.

“Can I pick you up? Or are we still in the ‘drive separately’ stage?”

“Hmm, tough to say.” I push the door open to outside. “Hang on a second,” I tell Alex. I hug Elana and say, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better,” she says before going to her car.

“Sorry about that. I’m leaving for the day and had to say goodbye to a friend.”

“No problem. So where do we stand on the driving issue? Am I allowed to know where you live?”

I open my car door and toss my messenger bag onto the passenger seat. “Why do I have a feeling you already know, Mr. Reporter?”

“I assure you I have no idea,” he says, and I’m willing to bet he’s grinning.

“Sure you don’t. Pick me up at seven?”

“See you then.” He hangs up, and for the first time in weeks, I feel hopeful that not every aspect of my life is about to come crashing down.

I’m about to pull out of the parking lot when a police car drives in. My entire body instantly tenses. Do they know it’s me? Was I caught on camera or something? The patrol car’s lights go on as it pulls into the student lot. Did something happen after I left the building? I turn around and follow the police car.

The patrol car parks another car in, and the officer gets out. A student emerges from the beat-up Ford in the parking spot being blocked. Noah. I pull my car over, not bothering to get into a spot, and get out. “Officer, can I help you with something?” I ask, walking over and standing next to Noah.

“And you are?” the officer, a man in his early forties with dark hair and a goatee, says, his eyes narrowing on me.

“Whitney Stillwater. I’m a teacher here. This gentleman is my student, and he’s underage. If you’re here to speak to him, I suggest we all step into the main office so we can phone Noah’s parents.”

“So you are Noah Thornberg?” the officer asks, his gaze pinned on Noah.

Noah nods and looks at me.

“What is this about, Officer?” I ask.

“We got an anonymous tip today from a student at this school who said Noah was bragging about painting the murals that are popping up all over the city.”

Noah swallows so hard next to me I hear it. “Ms. Stillwater, I swear I didn’t do it. And I never said I did. I said I wished I did because the murals are awesome.”

I hold a hand up to Noah to stop him from saying any more. “Officer, I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”

“Ms. Stillwater,” the officer says, “if you’ll please lead us to the main office. I’d like to have Noah’s parents present so I can question him further about this.”

God, I can’t believe this is happening. Noah didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t let him go down for this. The poor kid has a rough enough life, and if the police question him, I’m not even sure his own parents will believe he’s innocent. There’s only one thing to do.

“Officer...” I wait for him to supply his name.

“Rodriguez,” he says.

“Officer Rodriguez, going to the office won’t be necessary because Noah had nothing to do with those murals.”

“I respect you wanting to protect your student, Ms. Stillwater, but I’m afraid I have to insist.” He extends his arm toward the building, and Noah starts walking.

“Wait!” I say. “That won’t be necessary because I’m the one who painted the murals.”