𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃, joseph descamps

𝟎𝟐𝟖. on the tip of the lips

SHE STANDS IN FRONT OF HER WINDOW, her gaze lost in the gray, damp streets. Fine snow is falling. Yet, a mix of excitement and nervousness rises within her since she has accepted to help Joseph with his math assignment. She couldn't refuse, even though she knows there are probably other students who could have helped him. Something in the way he phrased his request pushes her to say yes, despite her resolutions to avoid him.

She surprises herself by tidying up her room a bit more: she has picked up her scattered books, folded the blanket on her bed, and organized her desk. She tells herself it has nothing to do with Joseph, that it's simply to avoid looking messy, but deep down, she knows it's more than that.

The sound of the entry bell pulls her from her thoughts. Joseph has just arrived. She forces herself to compose a neutral expression and goes to open the front door.

When she sees him on the threshold, slightly wet from the melting snow, with a feigned calm expression on his face, she feels her heart race a little faster. "Hi," he says, greeting her with a small smile. "Thanks for letting me come."

She nods and lets him in. They head upstairs in silence and settle into her room, as usual. The math notebooks and textbooks are already spread out on the desk, and she sits in the chair opposite Joseph, who takes a seat on the edge of her bed, right next to her. They begin working on the exercises, but soon the conversation becomes hesitant.

"So, to solve this equation, you have to... um..." She interrupts herself, sensing his gaze on her.

Joseph is looking at her, a sly smile on his face. "You're much better than me, that's obvious."

She blushes slightly, looking down at her notebook. "It's just a matter of practice."

They resume the exercise, but she can feel his presence every moment, the warmth of his body just inches from hers. She tries to focus on the numbers, on the lines of equations, but her mind drifts. She feels strangely aware of every movement Joseph makes, how he leans toward her to see better, the light scent of his cologne.

"Do you do this often, helping others ?" he suddenly asks.

She looks up at him, surprised by the question. "Not really," she replies. "I usually prefer studying alone."

"So, am I an exception ?" he quips, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Don't get carried away," she laughs, trying to hide her fluster. "You asked me for help, that's all."

"Maybe," he murmurs, leaning a bit closer to her, as if trying to see the exercise she's working on. "Or maybe you wanted to spend some time with me."

She feels the heat rush to her cheeks. "Don't say nonsense, Joseph," she retorts, her voice a bit higher than usual. "If you don't want to work, you can leave."

"No, no, I want to learn," he replies, raising his hands, feigning innocence. "Promise."

They return to their exercise, but the moments of silence between them grow heavier, filled with a strange yet familiar tension. Aimée feels the nervousness rising within her. For a few seconds, she forgets about math and lets herself be absorbed by Joseph's proximity, by the way he sometimes looks at her, as if trying to read beyond what she says.

After a while, he puts down his pen and looks at her again. "You know, I didn't really come here just for the math."

"And why then ?"

He leans in a bit closer, further reducing the distance between them. "Because I wanted to see you," he says softly.

She sits up straight, trying to put a bit more distance between them. "I thought we decided to leave all this behind us."