The High School Bad Boy
Chapter 21. Why Do I Wish It Was You (Why I Wish It Was You).

Wulan looked at her reflection in the mirror. Long hair tied in a ponytail, a knee-length black mini dress wrapped in a thick coat of the same size, then stockings that wrap around her legs and an ankle-high boot. She looks neat, and beautiful.

He stopped his mirrored activity and grabbed his sling bag lying on the bed, when the sound of the door was knocked. He immediately stepped out of his room and opened the door.

Damien was standing while smiling.

"T'es pret (are you ready)?" tanyanya while admiring in her heart the beautiful face in front of her.

"Oui (yes)." replied Wulan as she closed the door and locked it.

Wulan and Damien walked side by side down the stairs and out of the building.

"Please, Miss," Damien said as he opened his car door for Wulan, as soon as they got outside.

Wulan got into the latest white citroen car followed by Damien who positioned himself behind the wheel.

"You're beautiful tonight, Wulan." Damien finally let out his words of praise. Making a thin smile Wulan flinched.

"Merci," replied Wulan. He looked at Damien who was also looking at him. The smile of the man is sweet. Her words of praise sound romantic. But unable to shake his heart, as when the words you were so beautiful, Miss, were slid from the mouth of a Maximilian that night. Although at that time he did not respond at all, but in his heart, there was a strange whirring whack.

Why think of Max again?

Wulan swallowed his saliva. He shook his head slowly trying to repel the shadow of Max's face that arrived - just crossed his mind.

"What's up, Wulan?"

"It's okay." Wulan turned her gaze out the window.

Paris at night is always beautiful. The streets are decorated with beautiful classical lamps from the seventeenth century AD, the era of King Louis XIV. Buildings that look ancient without skyscrapers with a dominant cream color make a warm impression of the city feels strong even though on a winter night.

"We've arrived." Damien's voice spread the Wulan's daydream.

Damien had parked his car in the spacious courtyard of a magnificent building with huge pillars at the front.

Wulan who had just set foot in the most famous opera house in France was amazed to enter a super magnificent room with an epic intricate neo-baroque design initiated by the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte III's.

He ceaselessly circulated his gaze to every corner of the room with a capacity of two thousand two hundred people. A curved roof painted with psychedelic paintings with a large chandelier in the center that resembles a chandelier (wax holder), is, balconies - a rotating balcony divided into three floors surrounds the room with red curtains and is devoted to VVIP spectators, the large stage on the first floor, and the row of chairs that began to fill the audience, all of it made Wulan feel like she had just teleported to classical European times.

"Our seat is over there." Damien held Wulan's hand towards the empty seat past the few people who had been sitting between their seats.

A song by Leo Delibes, the famous French composer of the 1800s titled Lakme performed by musical performers numbered around thirty with two soprano and mezosoprano singers, and was performed by a group of thirty, playing with her from the stage.

Wulan felt her soul flying following a tone that was so poignant yet romantic at the same time. He closed his eyes. Enjoying the cradle of the stunning voices of the two melodious female singers.

Until a moment in the middle of the song, the shadow of Max who was painting him on the Pont Marrie bridge appeared in his mind. A faint smile and blue eyes flashed just like that.

Wulan gasped. He opened his eyes and turned to his side, where Damien sat there.

It wasn't the thin-fringed man he expected to be beside him.

But the owner of black hair and half long hair and blue eyes that make him feel a hissing - a strange hissing that he can not interpret with words.

I wish it was you (wish it was you).

Why (why)?

Damn it!

.

.

"Merci, Damien, c'etait sympa (the performance was good)."

"Da rien (same - same), Wulan. Thank you for going to watch with me."

"Miss!"

Wulan gasped at the familiar voice from behind her. His heart was as if - about to jump from the recess of his chest. He immediately turned around and found Max standing on his back beside the main door of the apartment building which was minimal lighting. Just the bias from the street lights made Max's face look, very handsome.

"What are you doing here?" ask Wulan coldly. Although his heart cheered happily at the bengal boy who, I don't know. He could not even choose the right words to describe his current feelings.

"I want to apologize, Miss," Max said. He pulled his back against the wall, then approached Wulan.

"No need" said Wulan. He was about to step in, but Max held him back by grabbing his hand.

"Miss .. please don't be mad at me. I can't ...." Max's words just hang.

"Can't what?" attack Wulan while pulling his arm from Max's hand.

Max breathed deeply - deeply. He did not answer Wulan's question. "Miss, I promise I won't be rude to you again. But .. please don't be mad at me," she asked with a face. "Please ...."

"Please ...."

Wulan closed her eyes for a moment. Then turned his eyes to the empty streets. He could not look into the boy's eyes, which would surely have left him devastated.

"Please promise me you'll never do it again, Max." Wulan. "Remember, I'm your teacher, please respect that."

"I promise, Miss."

Wulan nodded. "Yes, I'm going in."

"Emc .. Missus!" call Max to stop Wulan from pushing the door.

"What's up, Max?"

"I want to cancel dinner this weekend. But instead ...." Max scratched his un-itchy head. "Will you accompany me to the street painting fair in Les Marais this weekend?"

Wulan fell silent. Of course he wants to. But he did not want to make this bad boy happy just like that. There will be a moment to answer Max's offer.

"I can only afford to take you to such a cheap event," she was embarrassed. "It's not like Damien took you to see an expensive opera show."

"What are you talking about?" hardik Wulan was upset.

Max chuckles. "So how, Miss?"

Wulan pushed the large wooden door in front of him slowly. "We met in front of Picasso like that time" he said as he stepped in.

"I'll pick you up, Miss!" Max hurriedly exclaimed before Wulan closed the door. "We took the metro (underground train) together from here" he continued.

Wulan raised her eyebrows. "Bonne nuit (good night), Max," Wulan said as he closed the door.

"Attend (wait), Miss!" Max holds the door until Wulan uncovers his intention to close it.

"What else?" wulan was upset.

"You're not dating that shitty Damien, are you, Miss?"

Wulan was open to Max's question. "Bonne nuit (good night), Max!" repeat it while really closing the door - meeting.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question, Miss!"

"Merde (fucking)!" mean it.

From inside Wulan can still hear Max's mockery out there. He walked up the stairs to his apartment with a faint smile on his lips.

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