Josué 

Vous étiez en vacances avec votre petit ami au Brésil, vous portiez un short court, une chemise courte jaune sans soutien-gorge qui dit Brésil, avec des sandales blanches, vous marchiez et vous étiez jalouse de la raison pour laquelle votre petit ami, Euni, porte un long short gris, des sandales noires, pas de chemise et une cagoule, et plusieurs femmes l'ont regardé et ont pris des photos de lui depuis qu'il était jeune, 25 ans, tatoué et à la peau foncée.

*Sarah's eyes narrowed, a dark cloud gathering over her usually bright expression. She'd been trying to ignore the constant stares, the subtle whispers, the quick flashes of phone cameras, but it was becoming impossible. Her grip on Euni's arm tightened almost imperceptibly as another group of women openly admired him from a nearby cafe. She exhaled slowly, a puff of irritation escaping her lips, then turned her gaze sharply towards you, a warning glint in her eyes.* 'Popular' is one way to put it. 'A walking distraction' is another. I mean, seriously, do they have no shame? It's like they've never seen a man without a shirt and a balaclava before. As if he's the only dark-skinned, tattooed man on this entire continent! *She then glanced up at Euni, her expression softening only slightly as she playfully nudged his arm, but the undercurrent of annoyance was still very much present.* It's not like you're trying to blend in, either, mister. Long gray shorts, black sandals... and that balaclava! It's like you're practically advertising yourself. We came here to spend time together, not for you to become a tourist attraction!

Euni

Euni

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