Florianas
Chapter 23: Historical Papers

Flo sat leaning against the chair, behind her study desk. He had just finished the paper he had to gather tomorrow. Something that rarely happens, because usually he always finish the task early.

Flo's head looked up, looking at the perfectly round moon behind the open glass window. A cool night wind flowed in, gently blowing his face. He breathed out memories that he kept trying to get rid of but came back.

His relationship with Farrell now becomes complicated by the fact he just found out this afternoon. He was half sorry to hear it. Finding now he must be confused how to deal with Genta and Farrell simultaneously.

He had wanted to assume Farrell's speech was just a guaruan. But the face of the man did not seem to be joking. In fact, Farrell was very serious, more serious than any moment he had ever remembered. After all, if all Farrell's sayings were just joking, again he had to agree if the man liked another girl who was too amazing for him to rivali—and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Why is it that among the many girls in school, in Genta's life, the man is attracted to her instead? And that question applies to Farrell, too. Why would the incredible Farrell like her so ordinary?

Ting!

Flo turned her eyes. Mind slumped. The focus was on the glowing phone on top of the blue-covered paper. Then he took the thin object, which revealed a new message notification from one of the people who filled his mind.

Ghiffari Genta: Flo.

Genta Ghiffari: Your class is given the task of making papers?

Long Flo did not flinch, looking at the phone in his hand with a gamang. Such a message is a simple, ordinary message. But after finding out that Genta liked him, each of their interactions led to a lot of speculation in his mind.

Is Genta seriously asking or is he just trying to open a conversation? So, has Genta routinely contacted him no other purpose? And all the attention and kindness Genta had to her just because she liked her? Or is Genta really good? If the man is good, how do you know that the man has moved on?

Plaque!

Flo slapped his cheek. It was the hot feeling that made him grimace. He was too excited to slap himself. Though his intention was only to awaken his mind and to recall Farrell's words yesterday.

Genta is blushing.

But handing over is not a guarantee of forgetting, is it? He gave up on many things, but he did not forget that he still liked them. So, even though Genta gave up on him, it was not necessarily that the man had stopped liking him, right?

Plaque!

Flo again peaked her cheek.

Conscious, Flo! Don't think too much. Genta's feelings have not been confirmed.

Flo let out a long breath. Now focus on the message. Genta asks about the task, keep a moment about the feeling.

Quick fingers Flo typing reply for Genta. And while dancing his fingers, he remembered that this was the first time Genta had asked about the task. Previously the Genta messages contained only pleasantries that had no content.

Me: Yes, I am loved. Why, Ta?

Genta Ghiffari: Dikasih what kingdom?

Fast respond, thought Flo.

Me: Srivijaya kingdom.

Me: Your class can also be paper assignments?

Genta Ghiffari: Yes. My group is to Majapahit.

Genta Ghiffari: I read a lot of articles. Confused which pack. Lazy read.

Genta Ghiffari: I was going to ask you for a recommendation, but our material is different.

Me: Do you own the paper?

Genta Ghiffari: Yes. There's nothing to sign up for in my group, all guys.

Me: Oh that's.

Flo felt pity. He used to do group work alone. Because he prefers to do it himself. According to him, the more heads and hands even make things more complicated. But that certainly doesn't apply to Genta. That man must be unusual to do group tasks alone.

Me: Yes, I will help you find the material. I sent it by email yes.

Me: Send your email address.

Genta Ghiffari: Okay. Thanks, Flo. Best indeed.

Me: Equally.

Done. Flo let out a sigh of relief. He put his cell phone back on the table, on the side of the fish jar***** which was still adorned with Farrell's messages.

Just as Flo resuscitated her back to the back of the chair, her phone clinked and lit up again.

Sighing, he again grabbed the thing.

Genta Ghiffari: There was a message from Farrell.

Flo chokes. His heart raced fast. Nervousness began to tickle his stomach.

He gets messages from people he likes, delivered by friends who like him. Ribet once, isn't it?

Genta Ghiffari: He said, unblock the number. Not really, but, she's.

As sure as Farrell is that Genta no longer likes him, so he dares to send him a message through Genta?

Me: sometime.

***

It needs distance.

And there, across the street, stood Farrell who looked at him with his usual good-morning smile. Stretching the distance he asked for. Although actually the distance he meant was more than just the width of the highway, but he could not deny that he felt touched instead of upset.

Not wanting to be dissolved, Flo melengos and began his walk to school. Along the way, he reminded himself not to turn to find the figure of Farrell, which is not easy. It is his desire to turn away.

Flo was greatly relieved as soon as her feet climbed the second-floor corridor. Soon he can languish in his class without the possibility of having to be restrained by Farrell's existence. He could hide in the peace of his class, escaping the complexity of the thought of taste in the swiftness of today's subject matter.

"Eh, Flo!" One of Flo—Freeska—'s classmates blocked his path. He was surprised Freeska had left school, but usually was the first student in her class to arrive at school.

"Why?" ask Flo. Inevitably he eased his steps to face Freeska.

"Is he already?"

"Udah." Flo nodded.

"Where do I want to see?"

Flo took off one of her backpack straps to get out the papers she had finished last night. In silence, Flo knew Farrell was still behind her, making her want to turn to make sure. But again he held back. Choose to focus on the friend in front of him and their group paper.

"Here, I'll take it," said Freeska, taking over Flo's backpack. "Mending lo to the office aja—gue almost forgot to say."

"Why?" Flo's eyebrows shot up. What's so early to be told to flank the office? It seemed that he was not too late to collect any tasks.

"Call my brother."

"Sir Firza?"

"Well, Flo," said Freeska, with a faint smile. "My brother who works here is the only one who does."

"Make what?" ask Flo. Mr. Firza does not teach any lessons in his class, nor is he a member of the OSIS he mentored. So what is the reason for this order?

Freeska poked her shoulders. "Absolute school anniversary maybe. Maybe you were told to do the show. He's seen your ballet once and said it's really good."

Upon hearing Freeska's conjecture, Flo turns around and leaves her backpack with the girl. He lowered his head, carefully keeping his eyes from touching Farrell's figure on the side of the corridor. Nevertheless, he could still feel the man's gaze highlighting his steps until he turned down the stairs. And a sense of relief covered it.

It was almost bell in when Flo came out of Mr. Firza's room with the decision he accepted the teacher's request to perform at the school's birthday event. Because usually only extracurricular children fill the event, while he does not participate in any extracurricular, it is a pretty special request. Actually, he just had fun dancing ballet, it's just that it must be very stressful dancing in front of all school students who are not real ballet fans. They probably won't appreciate his looks.

Upon arriving in class, Flo finds his backpack lying on a table, accompanied by a high-vitamin C drink that he suspects from Farrell.

"Well, what's the paper, Frees?" Flo tapped on the shoulders of the friend sitting in front of his desk.

The one asked turned his head, then said, "Nothing." He answered, as if there were no burdens. But if the paper does not exist, they will be in trouble because the history lesson is a lesson in the first hour and the teacher of the subject has absolutely no compassion.

"Seriously?" Flo began to rummage through his backpack, while Freeskan only nodded at a glance before returning to face the front.

After poking his bag, removing all the books from it, Flo admits that his paper does not exist.

Gosh darn. Flo rubbed his face rough. He remembered very well when last night he put the paper on the table, and carelessly seemed to have forgotten to put it in the bag. What is he thinking so he can forget to bring the task emblazoned real in a strategic place?

In a panic, he glanced at his watch. It's almost eight. There really is no hope. There was no way he could run home and go back to school before the bell resonated.

Flo sighed in despair. His back he rested on the back of the chair, while his eyes surrounded the classroom with agitated strokes. Each group is with their paper to present. How are you doing with the group? What do they want to present?

Flo's stomach churned as the entrance bell rang as scheduled. The sensation of anxiety becomes more so when the history teacher said hello to enter the classroom.

The lesson also begins.

Classes have been really conducive since the history teacher entered the classroom, even now when the first group started their presentation. No one dares to start a muddle during the history lesson, for the guide is not a gentle-hearted person who can be compromised to loosen discipline. All standby, carefully maintaining the voice and position of the body, making Flo increasingly tormented by his worry.

The thundering applause marked the end of the material-exposing word in front. Makes Flo's heart break. Because then the second group must start the presentation—group.

Geck, tok, tok!

"Excuse me, Mom!"

All heads were thrown to the sound source. Found a man breathing heavily standing in the doorway of his face. His face glistened wet with sweat, his uniform untidy, out of the waist of his pants; his eyes straightened at Flo who was beginning to pound his heart.

"Why Farrell?" ask the history teacher.

"Nganterin papers, ma'am. There's a paper left on the canteen table."

"Who's left in the cafeteria?!" ask Miss History in a loud voice. "You may have lost your duties in the cafeteria" he said.

Flo waited for Farrell to say his name. He was pretty sure that the blue paper in the man's hand was his that was left at home, not someone else's left in the cafeteria. If the paper was from the cafeteria, Farrell wouldn't be breathless as if he had run so far, Farrell wouldn't sweat that much, and Farrell wouldn't look at it that way.

"Freeska," said Farrell, reading a name on the first sheet of the paper, then his gaze once again floated to the figure of Floriana Adinda.

And back, Flo remembered the distance he had asked for.

***

hola guys, anyone waiting for this story? If there is a tori already make a long wait. I like males ngedit. btw, I want to ngingetin that no matter how small your appreciation of this work will mean a lot to me. so please, please, for those who enjoy this story, expect to be like, vote, comment, and love five stars. thank you. lof you💕