The hostess seats Elana and me at my favorite table next to the fish tank. I love this spot because I’ve been dying to paint the fish. I snap several pictures of the tank from all angles before finally putting my phone away. We usually eat at the corner café on Main Street because the food is great and the outdoor seating allows us to watch the stars come out, but it’s officially getting too cold for outdoor eating at night. So instead, we chose Bella Noche, a great family-owned Italian restaurant.

“How did you meet someone in the grocery store parking lot?” Elana asks once we have our menus and the hostess walks away.

Before I can answer, a waiter approaches us. “Good evening. Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?”

“I’ll have a glass of the red sangria,” Elana says.

“Same for me.”

The waiter nods and walks away.

“So?” Elana says. “The man you met. Spill.”

“He’s not just any guy. He’s Alex Wilkes, the reporter from For the Record.”

“The one who wrote about the mural?”

“That’s him,” I say. “Crazy, right?”

She shrugs. “I guess he has to eat, too.”

“I wound up going to see the mural with him.”

The waiter returns with our sangria, placing the glasses on the table. “Have you had time to look over the menu?”

We scan the menus quickly, and I settle on the chicken Parmesan, while Elana opts for the chicken cacciatore. Once the waiter leaves, Elana picks up her glass and swirls the sangria around, waiting for me to continue with the story.

“He was...sweet in a very awkward kind of way.” I laugh, remembering how embarrassed he seemed to be in the parking lot after he realized he was trying to open my car door instead of his.

“You have the strangest taste in men,” she says. “What does he look like? How old is he? What color eyes will your babies have? I want details.”

I laugh because Elana is determined to find a green-eyed man to make sure her child winds up with green eyes like hers. I’ve tried to explain genetics to her, but she isn’t listening one bit. “He’s about six feet tall, dark hair and eyes, and I’d say around my age. Oh, and we drive the same car, which is how we met since he thought my car was his and tried to open the door.”

Her head bobs as she takes in the information. “What made you go see the mural with him? Is he that good-looking?”

“Yes, but that’s not why. He’s...genuine.”

Her brows lift. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? Genuine? Who describes a man that way?” She pretends to fan herself with her napkin. “He’s just so genuine,” she says in a southern belle accent.

I roll my eyes. “Do you know how difficult it is to find an honest man in this city? I’m tired of phonies and superficial people. Alex is very real, and yes, that’s extremely attractive to me.”

She holds up her hands. “Okay, so when are you going to see him again?”

I take my sangria in both hands, staring at the orange and apple slices inside the glass. “I guess that’s up to him. He knows my first name and that I’m a teacher. I told him to use his reporter skills and look me up.”

“You little flirt,” she says with a smile. “I like that. If he takes the time to put in the work, then you’ll know he’s worth your time in return.”

“That’s the plan.” I still haven’t told Elana the truth about the mural or the other reason I’m interested in Alex. I hate keeping things from her, so I decide to come clean. “Listen...” Before I can say more, the waiter returns with our food. After checking to see if we need anything else, he leaves.

“God, this smells heavenly,” Elana says. “The chef here is amazing. I’ve seen him before, too. He’s not bad on the eyes.”

“A man who cooks is right up your alley,” I say. “You should ask the waiter to bring him out here so you can introduce yourself.”

She pauses, fork halfway between her mouth and plate. “Maybe.”

I’m surprised she’s considering it, but Elana hates to cook, so finding a man who does would be perfect for her. Done stalling, I say, “I have a confession.”

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at me. “What did you do? You have that guilty look on your face.”

I cut my chicken and then put my utensils down. “I painted the mural.”

“What?” she says much to loudly. She looks around and then leans across the table and whispers, “What were you thinking? You’re a teacher. You could get arrested for this. It’s vandalism. You could lose your job.”

“I know, but we both know that’s a real possibility anyway. The art program is most likely going to be cut. I had to do something.”

“Why this? And why not ask Mrs. Hershel if you could paint the mural. I’m sure she would have loved the idea, and then you wouldn’t have been breaking any laws.”

“Because if I asked first, this wouldn’t have made the news.” I fold my napkin in my lap before meeting her gaze. “I had to do something big to get the attention of this town. If I can rally the troops and start an uproar over the school board cutting the art programs, then maybe...” I shrug. “Is it stupid?”

She sighs and reaches across the table, her hand palm up. I place mine on top of it, and she squeezes. “Did you tell Alex it’s you?”

“No. If I do, he’ll stop writing about it. Mystery solved.”

“So then, what do you plan to do next? It’s been two days, and nothing has come of the article in the paper.”

I lower my gaze to my plate. My stomach flips. “I have to paint another one. In an area with a lot more foot traffic.”

“Are you insane?” She lets go of my hand and widens her eyes at me. “And why are you telling me? Doesn’t this make me an accessory to a crime now?”

“If I’m caught, I won’t tell people you knew. Don’t worry.” She knows I’d never jeopardize her career.

“Maybe you should tell Alex. He might be willing to help. Write an article on the proposed cuts instead.”

“Do you really think anyone will care?” The topic has been brought up at several school board meetings, and no one is doing anything about it. I can’t afford to be passive now. I have to move forward with my plan. But Elana is right. I can’t tell her what I’m going to do because it does put her in danger. Everyone at the school knows we’re close. She’d be questioned at some point. “Look, forget I mentioned it, okay? I didn’t paint it. I was only joking.”

She knows I’m lying, but she doesn’t push. “So what’s the plan with Alex? Are you going to see him again?”

Hopefully. “Depends on his researching skills, I guess.” And how much he wants to see me again.

* * *

After dinner, I don’t go back to my apartment. Instead, I head downtown. Elana was right. Buzz about my mural has already died down. I have to do something else. Something much bigger. And I have to do it now. If I lose my job, so be it. Keeping the arts in school is much more important than my paycheck. I know my mom would’ve thought so. She’d do everything she could to fight for what she believed in, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

The streetlights are all lit up when I reach the main stretch with the stores, restaurants, and my destination: Fitness World. I’ve decided to target businesses in the hopes that they won’t mind the free advertising and will waive the idea of pressing charges when I’m caught. And I know I will be caught. Especially if I stay in contact with Alex.

The streetlight in front of the blank wall on the side of Fitness World is out, which is why I decided on this location next. Hopefully, the broken light will offer me a little cover. This is also the wall that the outside camera is attached to. It faces the opposite direction, which means if I stay underneath the camera, I should be out of view. Still, I pull the navy blue hoodie from my back seat and put it on, securing the hood so it shields my face as much as possible while still allowing me to see what I’m doing.

I get out of the car and walk to my trunk, where my paints are. I’m careful to only take one color at a time so there’s nothing left behind if I have to flee in a hurry. My nerves are much more rattled than they were when I painted the mural on the boutique. The risk of being seen is much greater. I just hope my hand stops shaking so I can paint something the owner of Fitness World will actually like. I tiptoe to the building, sticking to the shadows as much as possible.

Now to paint my scene.