The sky over Velmont University glowed in a soft gold as the sun dipped low behind the glass buildings. It was move-in day — the kind of day where everyone seemed to be in a rush, dragging boxes, hugging parents, and wide-eyed with excitement. Arielle Monroe stood alone near the Design Hall, map in hand, utterly lost.
"East Wing… Room 307," she murmured, squinting at the directions.
Her suitcase tipped sideways, and in her attempt to catch it, her sketchpad fell — pages fluttering across the pavement like wild butterflies. She gasped, kneeling to pick them up just as a pair of polished black shoes stopped in front of her.
"Need a hand?" a calm voice said.
She looked up and time paused for a second.
A tall guy knelt beside her. Sharp jawline, clean-cut hair, warm eyes behind sleek glasses. He had an effortless grace about him, wearing a simple black turtleneck and slacks but he looked like he belonged in a fashion editorial. He picked up one of her sketches, eyeing it with surprise.
"You drew this?"
"Y-Yeah," Arielle said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Don't judge, it's just practice stuff."
He handed it back with a smile that made her heart skip. "No judgment. It's good like, really good."
She nodded awkwardly, suddenly aware of how plain her outfit was compared to the aura this stranger carried.
"I'm Ezra. Ezra Quin," he said, standing and offering a hand.
"Arielle. Arielle Monroe," she replied, taking it gently.
He smiled again. "Well, Arielle, welcome to Velmont. You're clearly not just here for the views."
That was their first meeting. Brief but magnetic. He showed her the way to her building, carrying her suitcase halfway. When they parted, he gave her a nod that lingered like he wanted to say more but chose not to. She watched him disappear into the crowd, unaware that they'd just stitched the first thread of something life-changing.
Still a little dazed, Arielle reached her dorm.
Room 307.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
"Finally!" a voice chirped. "I thought I'd have the whole room to myself."
Inside was a petite girl with long chocolate-brown curls and stylish boots, sprawled on the bed with a fashion magazine. She sat up as Arielle entered.
"I'm Tasha Lin," she said brightly. "Fashion major, fashion victim, fashion everything. You?"
Arielle managed a smile. "Arielle. Design major."
"Oooh, fun! Are you into streetwear or high fashion?" Tasha asked, already poking at Arielle's sketchpad on the desk.
"Mostly modern elegance… I like structure and movement," Arielle replied, trying to organize her things.
"You'll fit in great here. Everyone's either intense or insane," Tasha said with a laugh. "And if you're hot, like Ezra Quin level, they'll literally worship you."
Arielle blinked. "You know Ezra?"
"Who doesn't? He's, like, top of the med school and also lowkey model material. Trust fund guy. But quiet, too. I've been following him on socials since first year."
Arielle turned away, hiding the soft blush that crept into her cheeks. He met me first, she thought, heart fluttering.
That night, as Tasha scrolled through her phone, chatting about campus gossip, Arielle lay on her bed, sketching again. But now, she added something new to the page a tall silhouette in a turtleneck, standing at the edge of a fountain, with pages swirling at his feet.
She didn't know it yet.