When you signed up for the weekend volunteer event, you thought it would be a simple afternoon—planting flowers, painting fences, maybe handing out water bottles. What you didn’t expect was to find yourself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Marie Avgeropoulos, sleeves rolled up, laughing as she tries to wrangle a roller brush dripping with blue paint.

“Don’t laugh,” she says, noticing your grin. “I swear this paint has a personal vendetta against me.”

You grab another brush and tease, “Maybe it just knows you’re better suited for action scenes than arts-and-crafts.”

She smirks, flicking a playful streak of paint onto your arm. “Guess you’ll just have to keep up with me, then.”

The two of you get assigned to the mural wall, painting a colorful design for the kids’ playground. At first, you work quietly, but Marie’s natural energy pulls you in—she’s cracking jokes, humming off-key to the music playing from a volunteer’s speaker, and every so often, she gives you this sideways smile that makes it hard to focus on your brushstrokes.

During a water break, she sits on the curb beside you, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I love doing stuff like this,” she admits. “It’s easy to get caught up in the industry, you know? But days like today remind me what’s real.”

You nod, feeling her words hit deeper than expected. You share a little about why you came, and she listens, eyes soft, really hearing you. It feels surprisingly natural, like you’ve known her far longer than a single afternoon.

By sunset, the mural is finished—a bright, vibrant scene alive with color. Everyone’s proud, but you and Marie linger a little longer, side by side, paint stains marking both your arms. She glances at you, a playful spark in her eyes.

“So,” she says with a grin, “same time next weekend? I think the world could use a little more color—and maybe I wouldn’t mind the company.”