Lightly Longing

Fill the Heart Mr. Arbi

I understand what Mr. Arbi meant, those words must have been meant for me. Remembering last night's morning.

Arriving at the security guard post, again dressed in black safari was handed a rose with a black box wrapped in silver ribbon.

"Wuih, get from the fans again, Mom," taunted Bu Afifah who nudged my shoulder, I replied with a headband.

"Nake the time, Mom can macem-macem from fans."

"Mother Afifah wants fans too?"

"Yes, obviously, ma'am." We arrived at the teacher's room. I can guess who gave the flowers. Of his movements must be Tama. Satria would never do that.

My birthday alone he always forgets and never gives anything. In fact, congratulations are not. I commented a smile towards Bu Afifah, putting aside the life history with Satria that was so flat.

"If I said I should approach Mr Arbi, would you? Mr. Arbi can be a fan of Mom."

He shuddered, shrugging both his shoulders. Face shrunk. "No, Mom. Mr. Arbi's fans, serem."

"Hehe. Yeah, hell. I was the victim, grateful Mr. Arbi nolongin. Otherwise, my face is full of dust and the treads of children's shoes."

"No, right!" The school bell rang, today I have two classes to teach. The time is also not too close, there is a pause after the break.

I definitely stepped into the class together with Ms. Afifah. He kept urging me to go watch. I gave up and agreed to his invitation.

Earlier, I put a rose on a pile of books on my desk. The parcels I still let, let loose new teaching unboxing. Afraid, just in case Tama sends something that invites suspicion.

All Tama's access to contact me, I block. Enough, yesterday. It was indeed my fault that was defeated by a lust that had never been stifled and restrained for too long.

My actions are not allowed. But who should I blame if this is the case. Ah .. I don't know.

I walked through the corridor towards the classroom which was at the end of this L-shaped building. Sometimes like to be surprised by the schedule of teaching classes, it could be that I and Mr. Arbi are always in the class next to each other.

Mr. Arbi walked in front of me. He stepped gallantly while the book in his hand, without carrying his sling bag. Yes, it's always so stylish when teaching. If there is any material that he forgot to bring, then Mr. Arbi asked one of the students to go to the teacher's room to take his bag.

Mr. Arbi stepped in, before completely missing from my sight, the young man smiled by raising the corner of his lips. Impressed underestimated. I frowned in wonder, immediately I threw away thoughts that would interfere with concentration.

After class, I started working as usual. This time, not in the class. However, the Good class that Ms. Afifah told me about yesterday. Huh, I was breathing rough.

I was still standing in the middle of class. Good to get up from his seat. Wanting to step out, in the doorway I held him.

"Wait."

"God!" he said turning to look at me. "What, Mom?" ask again.

"Sit back!" my orders were to move my head towards his seat.

"If I don't want to?"

I ruffled my waist, one hand holding my body on the table. Legs cross.

"If you take my class, and .. gets the best grade. I'll grant you one wish."

Good standing with lazy and indifferent style. Then, he swept a glance towards the classroom. Her attire stopped at one of the best and beautiful students in this class, in my opinion.

"You," pointed it at the round-eyed girl with the pointed nose. The girl pointed at herself.

"Yes, you."

"What's wrong?"

"Good! What the fuck!" the snaps that might sound to the next class. Mr. Arbi was seen walking towards nowhere. He knocked on the door asking for permission to enter.

"Please, Sir."

"Good, you I asked to BP's room, yes."

"What's this, sir?"

"I'll tell you there."

Mr. Arbi was saying goodbye, although still a little confused and curious, I went back to teaching. After greeting the children, I turned around and wrote down some material that might come out during the exam.

The subjects I taught were over, I returned to the teacher's room. There is still one more class to fill. My gaze turned towards the medium-sized box that was beside me.

I sighed for a while, then made sure around the room that was indeed quiet and quiet. It was just me, the other teachers were busy teaching on schedule.

In my heart it was pounding, ah I somehow described a lump of meat in there. I slowly opened it, narrowing my left eye.

Now, both my eyes are wide open. A picture is now in my hands. A little shaking my hand saw it. I kept it back where it was.

Down frustrated, not infrequently grabbed my hair. Hit the table slowly with clenched hands.

"****! Crazy one! Tama, really brash!" I growled with teeth that had clashed.

Someone approached, obviously I looked up. Mr. Arbi sat at the table, with his legs hanging. He smiled, again inviting the pain of seeing him so. The tube half bends towards me.

"Where, Mom? Can I join the list of men on my list?"

"Sir Arbi!" my screams are quite echoing in this room. I got up, afraid of a commotion and asked the teacher who might see us.

Mr. Arbi walked over, until I continued to step back and was cornered on the wall. Next to her hand was beside my cheek, holding back this to get out of her cage.

"Bu Ananta, why are you so seductive. In fact, I've been in love with you ever since I set foot in this school."

"You know my status. Please, stop hoping."

"Yes, I know. But, this heart," he said, squeezing his chest, "You're so in control of my brain, ma'am."

"Sir, please. We're in the school environment. Your attitude is imitated by children."

Mr. Arbi looked down deeply, looking frustrated. He let out a rough breath, one of his hands was in the pocket of his pants.

"Sir," called me again even though my heart was not safe on the spot. The heart is also like a roller coaster that goes up and down and whips up adrenaline.

"Do you remember the shirt I love?"

"D-yes."

"I've said it to you repeatedly. Even in the heart."

I'm confused what to say, why he's following through to drain the mind. It's true, likes come to anyone and anywhere, but ....

"Sir Arbi? Miss Ananta? What are you guys again?"

We were both aghast, directly turning to the origin of the voice. Mr. Arbi raised his hand to grab something from the top of the closet on my left side.