Our fallen souls [EN] (High Enough) : VOLUME 1

9 - Joséphine

The days passed. The passage of time had severed my connection with my uncle, to whom I hadn't spoken since my very first day at university. A twinge of guilt tugged at my conscience, urging me to bridge the gap and reach out to him. Dialing his number, I braced myself for the repercussions of my neglect. And as expected, my uncle's voice echoed through the phone, a mixture of concern and rebuke. I couldn't deny it, I'd let the days blur together, consumed by the weight of my studies. But now I had to gather my wits and regain control of my scattered thoughts. Determined, I reached for my phone, my fingers dancing across the screen as I composed a message to Joeyy. I waited impatiently for his reply, hoping he wouldn't mind.

Leaving the bench behind, I stand up on the bustling campus, aware that I only have ten minutes before my next class starts in the adjacent building. Quickly, I open the door, quickening my steps towards the amphitheater. I head for my usual spot against the wall, where I can lean back and observe the goings-on in the classroom. As more and more students arrive, the energy in the amphitheater begins to buzz. The room gradually fills with a diverse mix of students, each carrying their own backpacks and textbooks, finding their designated seats amidst the sea of faces. In the midst of it all, I notice a familiar face approaching me.

Cassie. Her usual cheerfulness amplified to new heights. Her fiery locks cascade in waves around her face, framing her rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes. As she settles into her seat next to me, her excitement is palpable, causing her to sit with an almost buoyant posture.

"You seem to be in a good mood today," I observe.

She takes a seat and turns her gaze directly to me. "Clyde invited me to dinner tonight!"

"That's wonderful," I reply, genuinely delighted for her.

She starts unpacking. "And how have you been since Saturday?" she asks.

"I've... I've had a bit of trouble recovering. I think I might have had a bit too much to drink," I reply, offering a little lie to mask my real concern.

"It was fun, though. You should have seen Blake's face when you kissed Shawn. A delight," says Cassie with a mischievous smile.

My heart inexplicably races at her words. "I beg your pardon? Don't be ridiculous."

"It was to provoke him, wasn't it?" she insists mischievously.

"No, why would you say that?"

"Because you're devouring him with your eyes, you twit, it's obvious that you like him."

"Nonsense, stop it," I sigh, trying to hide my embarrassment.

The truth is, I was tempted to seek him out on the spot. A sort of revenge for his arrogant way of behaving towards me. But although I don't think it affected him, he seemed rather... amused?

Cassie snaps me out of my thoughts by pointing discreetly behind me.

"Speak of the devil," she murmurs.

I look up instantly, attracted by Blake's arrival. He takes a seat at a table in the back, looking dejected. His brown hair is tousled, giving a casual air to his appearance. He's wearing a white long-sleeved T-shirt, with another navy-blue one over it.

Like a signal, he looks up, and our eyes lock on, an intense moment of connection. The atmosphere in the room instantly becomes heavy, almost suffocating, as if the air itself were holding its breath in anticipation. His captivating brown eyes fix on me with a cold gaze, devoid of warmth or familiarity. A shiver runs down my spine, and I quickly avert my gaze, feeling a pang of unease.

Finally, the bell rang, snapping me out of my trance. The lesson seemed interminably long, dragging on with each passing minute. I catch sight of Blake quickly exiting the room, a sense of urgency propelling him forward. Instinctively, I follow close behind, tracing his footsteps through the bustling corridors. It's as if an invisible thread connects us, drawing me closer to him despite the lingering uncertainty. I stop in front of my locker, watching the scene unfold around me. I can't help noticing the oblique glances and hushed whispers directed at Blake. It seems that all eyes are on him, the enigmatic figure of intrigue and speculation. A passing remark from a girl to her friend catches my eye, uttered in a tone dripping with curiosity and a hint of judgment.