Paris Adler and Sydney Blake have been college classmates for a while. Paris is captivated by Sydney's beauty and talent in fashion, while Sydney is drawn to Paris's gentle nature, photography and poetic skills. Their story is one of budding romance...
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18 days before my internship interview and orientation.
Paris and I settled into our chosen picnic spot at Highland Woods.
"Ahhh, spring breeze, I love it," I murmured, a contented smile on my face as I closed my eyes. The spring breeze carries delicate scent of blooming flowers and fresh grass. I leaned back and took a deep breath, letting the gentle wind wash over me and play with my hair. As I sat on the soft mat that we have laid together with my boo Paris, the serene view of the nearby golf course stretched out before us.
He glanced at me with a soft smile, his eyes twinkling as he pulled out two party red cups from the basket. "It does feel nice, doesn't it?" he replied, his voice warm and soothing.
With a contented sigh, I realized we had just .
I caught a glimpse of that cute smile of his, the one that made my heart skip a beat every time. Without thinking, I quickly reached into my bag and pulled out my Polaroid camera. "Paris, hold that smile!" I called out, already aiming the camera at him.
He chuckled and looked up at me, that same smile still on his face. "What is it?" he asked, his tone light and teasing.
"Keep that smile, just like that!" I grinned, holding up the camera.
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Like this?" his smile growing even more as he posed for me.
I grinned, shaking my head slightly. Just as I snapped the picture, I couldn't help but laugh. "That's not the same smile! It was cuter a second ago."
"I have a surprise, Sydney. You're gonna love this," Paris reached into the basket, I watched curiously. He then pulled out two small boxes of cheese pizzas, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "A lovely cheese pizza, just for us," he said in a joyful tone.
I couldn't help but chuckle at the Home Alone reference. "Kevin McCallister, huh?" I teased, the nostalgia of one of my favorite childhood movies.
Paris wasn't done yet. He reached into the basket once more and pulled out a large 40-ounce can of Chef Boyardee beef ravioli. "Or maybe we could enjoy Chef Boyardee?" he suggested with a questioning intonation, and holding it up as if it were a prized treasure. That size is enough for sharing only for us.
I raised an eyebrow, amused. "You're kidding, right?" I asked, but then quickly added with a grin, "Of course, I love enjoying them both."
Paris grinned at my response, clearly pleased. "The way you like it," he said with a wink. Then, as if he had one more trick up his sleeve, he reached into the basket again.
"And what would our picnic be," he began, a teasing note in his voice, "...without our La Croix? Tada!" He pulled out two cans, the vibrant colors catching the light as he handed one to me.
I laughed, shaking my head in delight. "You really thought of everything, didn't you?"
He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, it's our signature drink since freshman year," he added, his tone filled with fondness. "Only the best for you, Syd," he added.
