𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃, joseph descamps

𝟎𝟏𝟐. a hidden appetite

SHE LIFTS HER SKIRT AND ADJUSTS THE BOW in her hair. As she approaches the front door, Aimée can't help but feel a slight unease. They have agreed to work together on their presentation, and today is the designated study session. Joseph's house stands before her, a mix of apprehension and excitement in the air.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Aimée raises her hand and knocks on the door. The sound echoes in the hallway beyond, and she waits, her heart racing. The door opens moments later, revealing Joseph standing there, an amused smile on his face.

"Hey, redhead," he says, stepping aside to let her in. "Come in. I've set everything up in the office."

She hands him the jacket he lent her. "Here, I'm returning this," she murmurs, avoiding his gaze while feeling the warmth of his smile.

Joseph takes it, his fingers brushing against hers, a barely noticeable shiver passing through the space between them. "Thanks," he replies.

The air inside is cozy, with soft lighting and a faint scent of coffee in the background. Aimée follows him down the hallway to the office, her mind already focusing on their project.

Upon entering the office, she notices the organized chaos that seems to define Joseph's workspace. Books are neatly stacked on the shelves, papers scattered across the desk. It's clear he has already started diving into their topic.

They spend the next few hours discussing Rimbaud's influence on modern poetry, breaking down his themes of rebellion, love, and spiritual quest. Joseph's ideas complement Aimée's meticulous research, and together they craft a captivating narrative for their presentation.

As the afternoon progresses, Joseph quietly observes Aimée. He notices her unease, despite her efforts to appear focused and engaged. Being well aware of her personal struggles, he wants her to feel comfortable and supported. Joseph gets up and heads to a corner of the office, where his mother has left a plate of freshly baked muffins.

"Here, take a muffin," he says softly, extending the plate toward her. "My mom made them this morning. They're delicious."

Aimée looks at him gratefully, touched by the thoughtful gesture. She takes a muffin, feeling a bit better already. Joseph doesn't stop there. He moves to the adjacent desk and presents her with a bowl filled with fresh fruit.

"And take some fruit too, if you want," he adds, offering her the bowl.

Aimée nods slightly, touched by his kindness. "Thanks," she murmurs, grabbing an orange from the bowl.

He watches her bite into the juicy orange, a burst of freshness flooding her palate, yet her mind remains plagued with anxiety. Then she forces herself to focus on their notes, but her thoughts often drift to the boy who, despite his arrogance, captivates her.

"So, where were we ?" he asks, his eyes fixed on her, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"I thought we could discuss the spiritual quest in A Season in Hell. That could really enrich our presentation," she suggests, her voice betraying a confidence she isn't sure she feels.

Feigning indifference, he raises an eyebrow. "Hmm, really ? Are you sure you don't just want to talk about it for an hour and a half like you usually do ?"

She feels a sting, her face flushing. "I'm not going to spend my days debating with a disruptive student like you. I prefer to invest in our work," she retorts, challenging his gaze.

"Oh, I see. You're afraid I'll overshadow your brilliant ideas ? Maybe you should really worry about that. Do you know what's frustrating ?" he asks, leaning against the desk, suddenly serious. "It's that you always seem so concerned about the image you want to project. What if you let that facade drop for once ?"