“You need to stop and eat,” Elana says, walking into my art room with a slice of pepperoni pizza on a white paper plate.

“When did you get here?” I ask her. She’s had a key for years, but I didn’t even hear her come in.

She hands me the pizza. “Just now. I tried calling you, but your phone’s turned off.”

“I know. I shut it off so I wouldn’t be tempted to call Alex.” I take a bite, and my stomach growls loudly. I don’t remember stopping for lunch, and I’m not convinced I ate anything but a banana for breakfast today. All the days have jumbled together.

“You really haven’t talked to him in two weeks?”

I nod. “The art show is tomorrow. I had to stay focused.”

“I saw him at the street fair. I think he showed up hoping to run into you.”

I take another bite of pizza to avoid responding.

“Your new mural was all the rage at the parade. I saw your new school, too. The sign out front looks great.”

“What sign?” I ask. The one thing I haven’t been able to do is set up the space on Main Street. I’m still not convinced I’ll be able to rent it, so I don’t want to get ahead of myself.

“There’s a sign out front that reads ‘Stillwater Art School.’”

I stand up, shove the pizza plate in Elana’s hand, and walk out of my art room in search of my phone.

“What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“He promised he wouldn’t do this anymore.” I search the couch, remembering I hid the phone between the cushions to keep it out of view and avoid temptation.

“Wait, you think Alex did this?”

“Who else?” I say, pulling my phone out and turning it back on. “I can’t believe this.” As soon as the phone comes to life, I dial his number. I pace the room at the same time, unable to stand still.

“Whitney, hi,” he answers on the second ring.

“How could you?” I say.

“How could I what?”

“Don’t play games, Alex. Elana told me there’s a sign in front of the space I’m leasing. How could you buy me a sign after you promised you’d stop doing things like this? Were you not listening to a thing I said?”

“Whitney, stop,” he says. “I didn’t buy any sign.”

“What?” I look at Elana.

She smiles and shrugs. “It was the only way to get you to talk to him,” she says.

My eyes widen at her. “Hold on,” I tell Alex before covering the phone. “You lied about there being a sign?”

Elana nods. “I’m tired of seeing you holed up in this apartment completely miserable. You need to talk to him.”

“What I need is to finish everything before tomorrow evening. What I need is a best friend who has my back.” I drop my hand covering the phone. “What I need is a boyfriend who lets me make my own mistakes.”

“You haven’t made any mistakes,” Alex says.

I bring the phone back to my ear. “Of course I have, and they’re mine to make.”

“I know. I really didn’t buy you a sign.”

“Elana lied so I’d call you,” I tell him.

“Oh, well then, tell her thanks for me.” I hear his car start.

“Are you leaving work?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

I’m a little disappointed when he doesn’t ask if he can stop by. I really do want to see him. Most of the paintings I’ve done in the last two weeks are of things that remind me of him. “I finished your painting,” I tell him, taking a seat on the couch.

Elana places my pizza on the coffee table and grabs her jacket. She motions to the door.

I wave to her, angry that she deceived me but loving her for it at the same time.

“I want you to sell it at the show tomorrow.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” I ask.

“No, I’m merely telling you what I want. It’s up to you what you decide to do.”

Fair enough. “I was thinking of putting an insane price tag on it. Something no one in their right mind would actually pay.”

“Is that your way of making sure it sticks around for you to give to someone at a later date?”

“Maybe,” I say, reaching for my pizza. It’s good to hear his voice again. To talk like we did before this whole mess began.

Headlights stream through my front window before shutting off.

“Don’t get angry, but I just pulled up outside. If you don’t want me to come in, I won’t. I’ll sit here, and we can keep talking like this.”

Knowing he’s nearby is comforting on its own. Is that why he came? To be near me even if I’m not willing to let him inside?

I get up and open the front door.

“I almost forgot how beautiful you are,” he says.

I didn’t forget a single one of his features. I’ve been busy painting them. “Alex, I’m afraid if I let you inside right now...”

“I promise I’m only here to talk.” He lowers his window and tilts his head out so I can see him better. “I needed to see that you’re okay.”

I nod. “I’m fine.” I’m practically jumping out of my skin right now. I want to run to his car and throw myself in his arms. I want to kiss his full lips. I want so many things right now, and almost all of them have to do with Alex.

“You’re not going to let me in, are you?” he asks, still talking through the phone even though I can easily hear him from this distance without it.

“I’m trying to be strong here,” I say. “I have to finish this last painting before tomorrow.”

“I could watch you paint.” His voice is so hopeful I nearly cave.

I lean against the doorframe. “I can talk for a few more minutes, but then I really need to go.”

“Okay,” he says. “Are you excited for tomorrow night?”

“Yeah. I’m planning to swing by the old For the Record office tomorrow afternoon to set up. Elana’s going to help me.”

“Eliza is having one of her staff writers cover the event. He’ll probably stop by beforehand to interview you if that’s okay.”

“You guys are really doing too much for me.” I lean my head back on the doorframe. “I called Mr. Monohan after we talked last. I told him I wouldn’t be able to write for him right now.”

“I know. He told me.”

“I got a check for the article you wrote. Care to explain that one?”

“You technically did help me write it. You came along on the interview and took the pictures that ran online. You deserved to get paid.”

“You could rationalize anything, couldn’t you?”

“When I care enough about it, yes.”

I don’t dare ask him to rationalize our relationship. It’s been a whirlwind since it began. “Are you coming to the art show tomorrow?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He pauses. “Unless, of course, you don’t want me there. I wouldn’t want to ruin your day in any way.”

“I want you there, Alex.” I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for him. He has to be there. I’m just afraid that if I go with him, I’ll lean on him for support when I should be trying to mingle with potential buyers. “Let me apologize now in case I don’t have much time to talk to you there. I’d be really happy if you stuck around afterward, though.”

“Of course. I’ll stick around as long as you’d like.” The true meaning of his words isn’t lost on me. He’s waiting for me to give him the go-ahead so we can pick up where we left off. If my life wasn’t still so up in the air, I would.

“I should get back to work,” I say. “See you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Good luck finishing up tonight, and remember what your mom said. You have to visualize the future you want for yourself. Picture that success tomorrow, Whitney, because I know it’s going to happen for you.”

“Good night, Alex,” I say, standing up straight.

He reaches his hand through the open window and gives me a small wave before pulling out of the spot. I watch him drive away before realizing he’s ended our call.

I walk back inside and close the door. Then I dial Elana, ready to give her a piece of my mind.

“You two didn’t talk as long as I’d hoped,” she says when she picks up.

“What did you think would happen? He’d drive over and we’d be having make-up sex right now?” I flop down on the couch and finish my slice of pizza.

“Well, yeah. Exactly that.” She crunches on something. “Sorry, I’m eating dinner. I left all the pizza at your place. The box is on your stove. I had to make myself a salad. Yum.” I could practically hear her eyes rolling. “Croutons are the only good part of a salad.”

“I can’t believe you lied to me about that sign.”

“It’s only a partial lie. I was pricing them for you. I was going to make it an early Christmas present.”

“That’s sweet but totally unnecessary. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to keep that space. It all depends on how the art show goes.” Why can’t anyone seem to understand that? My bills are piling up. I have just enough money saved to get me through the month with bills and food. Quitting the paper was the worst idea I had, but there was no way I could work there and get everything ready on time. Not to mention being around Alex would have caused a huge problem for me.

“What’s your plan B?” Elana asks. “Or do you not have one?”

“Follow in my mom’s footsteps, I guess.”

“Become a waitress? Whitney, you can’t.” Elana used to waitress in college, so I know she’s not against the job itself. She’s just against me doing it for a living.

“I’m kidding. Don’t worry. I’d probably try to get a few more jobs painting for businesses in town. I’m not too proud to paint solid walls if I have to.”

“The horror,” Elana says. “I could see you putting your signature S on them somewhere to see if anyone notices.”

I laugh. “I probably would.”

“You’ve always had to claim what was yours. The only exception being Alex. Why is that?” she asks.

“You make me sound like a spoiled brat who doesn’t know how to share,” I say, avoiding the question.

“You refused to share any supplies at school, even with me.”

She’s right. I’m very particular about my art supplies. “You know I hate when people don’t roll the paint tubes correctly,” I joke, even though we both know it’s entirely true.

“Do you like when other women hit on Alex?”

“What?” I ask, sitting up straight.

“At the parade, this woman was brushing up against him. She kept hinting she was cold—I’m sure to get Alex’s jacket. He told her to stand in front of one of the buildings so it blocked the wind. It was hysterical. She was pretty, yet he didn’t give her so much as a first glance. Forget about a second glance.”

I smile and fold my legs up under me on the couch. Now I wish I’d let him in tonight.

“When are you going to admit that you’re falling for him?” she asks.

“I’m not falling in love with him. That’s crazy.” I scoff.

“Really? Then tell me why all you do is paint his face.”

“I don’t. I’ve painted tons of things.”

“Yeah, and on each and every one of those things”—she stresses the word—“you have his initials hidden somewhere or one of his facial features. I’ve seen it, Whitney, so don’t try to deny it.”

I get up and walk to my art room. “You’re crazy.”

“Look at the one you did of the crowd in front of the coffee shop. The guy wearing the purple shirt has Alex’s face.”

“He does n—” I stare at the man, who is in fact Alex. “Oh my God!”

“And the fisherman,” she says.

I flip through to find that painting. How did I not even know I was painting him? “What am I going to do? If he sees this...”

“He’ll know you’re in love with him,” she says when I can’t bring myself to finish the thought.

“No. This is going to send him running in the other direction. It’s way too soon for this. Why didn’t you say something? Warn me? The art show is tomorrow. I can’t let him show up and see this.”

“You don’t have a choice, Whitney. If you don’t do the show, you can kiss your dreams of being an art teacher goodbye.”

But if I do the show, I’m going to scare Alex off forever.