Chapter Text
Lottie Matthews had perfected the art of disappearing in plain sight.
At Smith College, where money whispered instead of shouted, she still managed to stand out in all the wrong ways—too quiet for the rich girls who wore confidence like perfume, too polished to be invisible. She was a Matthews, technically, but the inheritance sat in a trust she pretended not to think about. Easier to be a nobody with a nice camera than a somebody with expectations.
Photography class met in a narrow, sun-bleached building that smelled like dust and chemicals. Lottie loved it there. The darkroom didn’t ask questions. The lens didn’t care who you were supposed to be.
Professor Adler had handed out the assignment that morning, voice crisp and merciless.
“Photograph something you find fascinating,” she’d said. “Not beautiful. Not impressive. Fascinating. Then assemble a collage—images, text, whatever supports your obsession.”
Obsessions. Lottie had laughed quietly at that. She had too many and none at all.
She wandered the halls afterward, camera strap around her neck, mind blank in that frustrating way that only happened when she wanted inspiration too badly. Dorm doors slammed. Laughter echoed. Someone argued about Kierkegaard near the stairwell.
And then—
Laura Lee Campbell.
She was standing by the bulletin board, carefully pinning up a flyer for the campus Bible study, fingers precise, almost reverent. She wore a long skirt and a soft sweater, blonde hair perfectly brushed. People passed her without stopping. A few snickered. Someone muttered, “Bible Thumper Campbell,” under their breath.
Laura Lee didn’t flinch.
Lottie did.
She stopped so abruptly someone bumped into her shoulder. Her heart kicked hard against her ribs, instinct before thought. She raised the camera without meaning to—then froze.
Don’t be creepy, Matthews.
But she couldn’t look away. There was something magnetic about Laura Lee’s stillness, the way she occupied space without apologizing for it. Faith worn openly at Smith was practically an act of rebellion. Fascinating didn’t even begin to cover it.
Laura Lee turned, catching Lottie mid-stare.
“Oh,” she said, surprised but not offended. Her voice was gentle, curious. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Lottie blurted, then winced internally. Brilliant. Pulitzer-level dialogue.
Laura Lee glanced at the camera. “Are you… taking pictures of bulletin boards now? I can..move?”
Lottie snorted before she could stop herself. “God, no—sorry. I mean—yes? No. I’m in photography. There’s an assignment.” She exhaled, steadying herself. “I swear I’m not stalking you.”
Laura Lee smiled at that, small and warm. “Good. I’d hate to have to pray for your soul.”
Lottie blinked. Then laughed—really laughed. “Okay, that was good.”
They stood there for a moment, the hallway humming around them. Laura Lee tilted her head, studying Lottie with the same open curiosity Lottie felt herself radiating.
“You said photography?” Laura Lee asked.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to photograph something I find fascinating.” Lottie hesitated, then decided to be brave for once in her life. “And—this might sound weird—but I think that might be you.”
Laura Lee’s eyebrows lifted. “Me?”
“You,” Lottie said firmly. “The way you’re not hiding. The way you let people think whatever they want.” She gestured vaguely. “It’s… honest.”
Silence stretched. Lottie’s stomach twisted. She waited for discomfort, for refusal.
Instead, Laura Lee smiled again, softer this time.
“Well,” she said, “I’ve never been anyone’s art project before.”
“I can drop the project part,” Lottie said quickly. “I just—thought I’d ask.”
Laura Lee considered this, fingers lacing together. “If you’re serious,” she said, “I’d like to know when. And why. And what you plan to do with the pictures.”
Lottie nodded, relieved. “Fair. Completely fair. We can meet somewhere. Daytime. No dark alleys, I promise.”
Laura Lee laughed. “Tomorrow afternoon? The quad’s quiet after chapel.”
“Tomorrow works,” Lottie said, already feeling lighter. “I’ll bring contact sheets, too. You can veto anything.”
Laura Lee extended her hand. “Laura Lee.”
“Lottie,” she replied, shaking it.
Their hands lingered a second longer than necessary.
As Laura Lee turned back to her flyers, Lottie walked away dazed, camera suddenly heavy with possibility. She finally knew what she was going to photograph.
Not faith.
Not rebellion.
But the space where devotion and defiance quietly, beautifully overlapped.