Companion To Paris

Plaster sucks

"This is what, Paris? Something similar ..." Sandra is researching. "Wait, this ..." Sandra's eyeballs glanced towards Paris. Paris' lips growled with an annoyed expression again. "You guys kissing?" sandra asked slowly and slowly. This time Paris grumbled. "Wow .." said Sandra smiling.

"Wow whatan ...," said Paris annoyed while forcing the plaster was re-attached. "This is plastering what? Non-sticky. Biema take it from where, anyway!" Paris was getting furious because the plaster was very difficult to arrange.

Sandra who was looking started to chuckle. Paris panicked and was upset at one time.

"Don't laugh. I'm so late ..." Nervousness was lost changed with a taste of resentment.

"OK, okay. I'm quiet." Sandra stopped her laughter suddenly, but could not. Sandra laughed again.

Paris also nagged again into a really annoying plaster. "Robble nih plaster, uh!" Paris threw the plaster to the ground. Then stomp on it with all your heart. Sandra laughed even more as she pointed at the plaque. "Biema sucks." Because these laughs are people who have seen earlier, now pay more attention to them. Especially the Parisians.

"Okay, Paris ... I laugh at kebablasan, yes ..." Sandra just woke up. But it's just Sandra's wits to mock Paris. Paris' eyes looked at Sandra straight. This girl is already at god's level. Sandra understands. He tried to stop his laughter. "Don't wear plaster. Use the foundation."

"Make-ups? I don't have one."

"I knew. Where do you have stuff like that."

"You have? Quickly put it on."

"No."

"I'm disappointed."

"To school, of course, do not bring foundation dong, sister-in-law ...," said Sandra.

"Trus this how dong? Biema is the culprit. Where the plaster can not stick much longer. He must've taken plaster a long time ago, huh." Paris remembers Biema.

"I brought plaster." Sandra ransacked the contents of her bag. "It." Sandra showed a pink plaster. The eyes of Paris are glaring.

"Pink? I don't like pink." Paris grimacing.

"You look so?" ask Sandra. Paris shakes. "Eat it ... Wear aja. Here don't pair it." Paris approaching. Sandra deftly installed the plaster.

"Cool?" ask Paris to worry.

"Cool." Sandra gave a thumbs up for her sister-in-law. "So curious, why did Biema make her stamp there?" They stepped into the school building again. Paris hissed annoyed at Sandra's sense of urgency.

"In the beginning of the story, I heard that Biema did not want to stop you. He deliberately avoided. Hide out. So tell Fikar to do the job. It was only two days ago, or three days ago if it wasn't wrong. Now the story is different. Jumped far away. I found traces of redness on your neck. And .. That's your kiss sign." Sandra spelled out an explanation like Agatha Christie spelling out a murder trick in her novel.

"You guys are better?" Listening to this question from Sandra said that she did not yet know the furore in Biema's workspace. Fikar means to keep his mouth shut.

"Yes." Yeah." Sandra mangosteen.

"Kok can, the stamp fits really stuck there. Hayo ... What are you guys doing, right?" Sandra's getting sucked up.

"Nrpain ... Yeah, no crap, dong. What the hell are you thinking?" ask Paris to avoid. Panicked. Nervous. Wrong attitude.

"Think of good." Sandra glanced and laughed again. They finally arrived in front of the class.

Basic Biema. I became Sandra's material. Usually, children do not dare to mock me. Watch you later.

"So, really, Paris? If you're a call girl," intercept a friend at the classroom door.

Paris saw the girl with a squint. Then look to the side.

"About? It's old gossip or there's new gossip, anyway?" ask Paris to Sandra beside him. He who rarely reads school group chats does not understand. And again since last night he hasn't opened his phone.

"I don't think you're his son." The girl immediately responded with a nyinyir face.

"I haven't answered yes or no. How did you give me a response? Better than the beginning to judge. Ask all." Paris is in gas. The bell came in.

"Ih" the girl sneered and left.

"I want to talk about that. I sent a screenshot to you. There's a recent up-date photo of you and Biema's sister." Sandra told Paris in a whisper.

"Damn." This is the swearing of Paris for the umpteenth time. "What a wonder, the photo is just the two of them are already excited. Where does it go to call girls again. They're thirsty for gossip, aren't they? This picture of no sin can already be a gossip of the whole school. I don't know if I married Biema. Can faint them."

"Husso ... Don't be so hard on Paris. If the whole school knew you were married, what would they say? You're getting bothered later." Sandra scolded Paris. The eyeballs of Paris look right and left. If it really is.there are nguping.

"Thick is also just a photo once it has been able to move the masses to talk people. Priski is te-o-pe." Paris gave her thumbs up in agitation.

"They don't just discuss the photo of you both the same brother. They also saw the clock on the left. At 23:00. It was eleven o'clock at night. They think the news Priski made is real. Because of that clock you entered a man's apartment."

"Why did they not think it might be his brother's apartment" asked Paris in surprise.

"The name is gossip too. He thought that was weird, let's add sip."

Eleven nights? Around that hour, I was busy walking the Biema. Uh, wrong. It seems like that when Biema was still talking about the seeds, the might and so on. Or ... lest the clock tickle as Biema kisses my neck? So it felt Biema's lips on my neck. Well, why goosebumps.

Paris made an alternating expression when thinking of her moments together with Biema last night. Unconsciously his hand moved to touch the neck of the plaster. Sandra grimaced at the expression of her sister-in-law. From this look of disdain, surprise, blushing and last that made Sandra hit Paris slowly.

"What a baby, so it looks like a pervert. The smiles themselves are different again" Sandra said.

I again cast a shadow on your sister Sandra, replied Paris inwardly. Although Sandra is her best friend, but because Sandra is also her sister Biema, for the story about that Paris becomes uncomfortable.

"Mahaha ..." Paris answered with a laugh. Paris's cell phone rings. There's an incoming message.

"Why so?" It turns out that the other one is in Paris. Biema.

"More than think you're my crap." Without a second thought Paris replied to the message quickly. Clik. Undeliverable.

"Who?" ask Sandra.

"Biema's." Eh? Wait for. What message did I send you? Paris felt something was wrong. He opens the phone immediately. I quickly saw the message he sent. Paris reread the message he sent.

"More than think you're my crap."

What's?!