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

31 - Joséphine

I emerge from my first class of the day. The sun bathes the campus in a warm light, and I decide to make the most of the free hour I have left by heading to the bookshop. I settle down at a table away from other people, seeking the quietude to concentrate on my work. Just as I'm about to finish writing, someone sits down next to me. My first instinct is to sigh discreetly, but when I look up, I'm surprised to discover Cassie beside me, her head resting in her hands, wearing a bright little smile.

"You seem to be in a good mood," I whisper to her.

"And how!" she exclaims, rolling up the sleeves of her beige sweater. "My parents are throwing me a birthday party in a fucking castle, it's going to be crazy. And of course, you're invited!"

I raise my eyebrows. "A castle?"

"Yeah, a castle," she confirms. "My grandparents owned it just before they died, and now it belongs to my father. He insisted that we celebrate my birthday up there, as if I were still eight years old, but isn't that a bit fancy?" she adds cheerfully.

"Yes, of course."

"So, are you coming?"

"Of course I'm coming. When?"

"This weekend. Saturday," she says.

"Send me the address."

"You don't have to, just meet me at seven o'clock in front of the residence," she decrees in a confident tone. I don't even have time to protest before she's skipping off, as lively as ever. Her childlike airs bring a smile to my face, and I realize that Cassie has always been cheerful and lively.

Having finished what I had to do at the bookshop, I leave the place having managed to immerse myself in my reading. The sun is still shining high in the sky, and I decide to take advantage of the short walk to the amphitheater to reread my notes and make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Guided by habit, I instinctively head for the amphitheater where my next class will be held. I like to sit in the middle, against the wall, a place that gives me a certain sense of security and discretion. Arriving at the amphitheater, I settle down in the usual place, taking out my computer which I carefully place on the desk, then plug it in to make sure it's fully charged. Suddenly, the professor speaks up, breaking the ambient silence.

"Hello, everyone," he says enthusiastically. "Today, we're going to delve into the world of writers who have left their mark on literature."

I look down slightly, preparing to take notes. The class begins with some insights into the great names of literature, and I try to stay attentive, conscientiously taking notes.

"Do you have any ideas for authors?"

I dare to raise my hand in response. People turn to me, some intrigued, others curious.

"Yes, you?" says the teacher, calling out to me.

"Jane Austen."

Behind me, I hear a soft, muffled laugh. Intrigued by this reaction, I turn discreetly to see who's the author. It's Blake, sitting just behind me, who seems amused by my response. A shiver runs down my spine, and I quickly look away, trying to banish any distractions.

Despite my efforts to chase away the distraction, Blake's words still find their way to my ear.

"Typical you."

I feel my cheeks flush slightly, and I concentrate even harder on the course, trying to conceal any emotion.

"I wanted to see you," he whispers again into my ear. A shiver runs through me once more, and I struggle to ignore the unsettling effect of his voice so close to me.