𝑀𝒾𝓍𝑒𝒹 𝒰𝓅 | Joseph Descamps x Michele Magnan

The New Year

Before winter break, Joseph and I delivered our project and got a relatively good grade on it. Mr. Marcelin had even commented on how well done the project was, which surprised me, considering that I was nervous to even stand next to Descamps.

Other than our project, however, we hadn't spoken since I was at his house. I had stolen glances at him every now and then, but he was quieter than usual in all our classes and hardly looked up from his desk.

I thought about what happened between us nearly every moment over break. There was undeniable chemistry between us in that embrace. I hadn't known what that feeling was until he awakened the hunger in me for it. The insatiable craving for his taste and touch consumed me.

But, what would I say to Simone? To Jean-Pierre? To everyone?

"Michèle!" Simone called, running up to embrace me.

I wrapped my arms around her, relieved to see her after having gone nearly all of the holiday without talking to her. "Bonne année! How was your break?"

"I would've rather been in Algiers with my parents."

We walked through the front gates, passing Laubrac and Pichon. Simone looked over her shoulder at him quickly. "Have you heard from Laubrac?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, trying to change the subject. "I worked at the shop most of break."

"Bonne année Laubrac!" Simone said.

I smiled at him. "Bonne année Alain."

"Bonne année," he said, walking up to us.

Simone looked at me, smirking. "I have to go to the dean's office. I'll see you later."

I waved goodbye to her and turned back to Laubrac. "How was your vacation?"

"I worked on the Colombier's farm. It was fine." He half-smiled.

"What are you reading?"

"Ahh," he looked down at the book he was holding and held it up to show me. "Le silence de la mer."

The famous novel about a man at sea popped into my head. "It's about a whale right?"

"That's Moby Dick."

I laughed, blushing at my mistake. "Right."

"Alain!" A voice called from next to us. "You don't say hello to old friends?"

Immediately the smile dropped from his face and his body language shifted to be more closed off. "Hi, Yves. What do you want?"

"We're racing tonight; we need you."

"I can't. I'm busy. Sorry."

"You're busy."

"Yes."

He smirked, looking between us. "Busy doing what? Reading and sharpening pencils?"

"No."

"Come on!" He pleaded. "We've been challenged by the Val d'Or guys, we need you." He looked over to me and motioned at Alain. "Laubrac is our champion."

"It's not my problem anymore," he said, annoyed.

"I see. Mr. Voltaire has forgotten his old friends. Your friend can come too."

I looked at Alain. He seemed guarded, and not in a good mood.

"I said no."

Yves stood quietly, thinking, and then turned to me. "What's your name?"

"Michèle," I smiled.

"Well, Michèle, if you want, you're welcome to come." He winked at Laubrac and left.