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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It's funny how life works sometimes. You can spend years living in a city like Chicago, surrounded by millions of people, yet it's not until you move a few hundred miles away to college that you meet someone who ends up changing your entire world.
My name is Paris Adler. It's my first day here at the University of Michigan—U of M, as everyone likes to call it—and everything feels a little overwhelming. The campus, the classes, the sheer size of it all. But here I am, standing on South University Avenue, camera in hand, taking photos of the sidewalk. Not because it's anything special, but because that's what I do. I capture moments, even the mundane ones, like cracks in the pavement or fallen leaves. It's in those small, unnoticed details that I find beauty.
I didn't know it then, but that day would mark the start of something bigger than any picture I'd ever taken.
***
The other morning, I walked into my first lecture room—English Literature with Professor Wallace. I scanned the room for an open seat and found one. Just as I settled in, someone approached, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. Sydney Blake. She sat beside me, her presence quiet but somehow impossible to ignore. We exchanged polite "hi's" and "hello's," and that was it. Nothing more. We were just two students, seatmates because our last names happened to be next to each other on the alphabetized list. I'm Adler, she's Blake. She was majoring in Fashion Design, and I was in Photography, with enthusiasm in Poetry. Two Fine Arts majors, walking parallel paths but not yet crossing them.
***
A few months later, during one of our English Lit sessions, Sydney leaned over and asked me for my notes. She'd missed the last class, and I was more than happy to help her out. "Sure thing," I said, trying to sound casual.
Not that it was a big deal or anything, but I had noticed her around more often—at the Shapiro library, on the quad, even passing by the art studios. Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe... I don't know. There was just something about her.
And it didn't help that every time I saw her, she looked like something out of a painting—cute, but more than that. She had this presence, this way of being, like she was blooming. Like a goddess.
***
One afternoon, I was in the library, reading about Orpheus and Eurydice, when Sydney appeared again. This time, she actually approached me. "What are you reading?" she asked, her curiosity soft but unmistakable.
"Just something for class," I replied, showing her the page. Our conversation drifted, and soon we were talking about where we were from. That's when it hit us—we were both from Chicago. Not only that, but we were practically fellow neighbors back home. How we hadn't crossed paths before, we had no idea, but it felt like fate had brought us here, to this exact moment.
***
Over time, we grew closer. What started as borrowing notes and casual conversations evolved into late-night study sessions, group projects, and those little moments where you realize you're spending more time together than apart. Sydney admired my photography, always praising the way I could capture the world through my lens. And I couldn't help but admire her in return—the way she sketched, the way her fashion designs seemed to come to life on the page.
Of course, there was something more beneath it all. A crush, I guess you could call it. But neither of us could quite admit it, not fully. We were shy, unsure of how to take that next step. Instead, we danced around it—checking each other's Instagram, liking each other's photos, following each other's stories. Small, careful moves that didn't say too much but said enough.
***
By Christmas, things hadn't changed much in terms of "official" moves. But something was different. I couldn't stop thinking about her, and from what I could tell, she felt the same way. That holiday season, back in Chicago, I shared my thoughts with my friends, Robinson Aitchison and Harper Hailey. I told them about Sydney, this girl from U of M who, it turns out, was also my neighbor in our hometown. They teased me, of course, but I didn't care. There was something special about her, something I couldn't shake.
Turns out, Sydney was doing the same. She told her friends—Charlotte, Audra, and Talia—about me. And while they were probably teasing her too, just like mine, it didn't stop us from exchanging Christmas gifts that year. I had something for her, and she had something for me. It was awkward at first, both of us still too shy to fully express what we were feeling, but when I handed her the gift, and she handed me mine, there was a spark. It wasn't much, just a simple exchange, but it felt like the beginning of something more.
