It had been three weeks, four days, seven hours, and fifty-three minutes since I ran into the boy, who at the time did not have a name for me to call him. I decided to call him Luke, probably for my subconscious obsession with star wars. It had been almost a month since I ran into Luke on the street and all I thought about, day in, day out was who was this boy, who made me forget about surviving, and focus on living.
The beautiful summer was winding down and school was starting in two days, and I had to wonder, would Luke be there? Would I get a name to place with the face that had not left my head? Would I get an answer as to why he was not leaving my mind alone?
Because of my past experiences, boys had not been at the top of my priority list. When all you think about is surviving, the simple pleasures in life are not thought about often. Or ever.

It was the first day of school, so I hopped into my jean skirt, a black top, my jean jacket, and some boots and left the house, giving my dad a quick hug goodbye.
When I walked in the somewhat giant building for a town where the graduating class count never exceeded two hundred. I went straight to the office, to do the "new girl" thing. Getting my schedule, and a guide, who would be one of two people. The person who actually enjoys giving the tours, and spews out fact after fact about every after school program and every significant achievement that the school as learned. Or, they could be the tour guide who hates giving the tours, shows you to your class, does not say a word, and gives no helpful advice as to how you can get to your classes quicker.
Lucky me, I got the first kind. The Chatty Kathy that after the first five minutes I could not handle anymore mindless banter so I tuned her out, which I was all too good at doing.
I got there early, so I got to see a little bit of the school, that was not completely tragic, and then I made my way to my first class. First period calculus. So here I was. The new sophomore girl walking into a classroom full of seniors who had lived here for all eighteen years of their lives.
And then it happened. There Luke was. Sitting there. Looking beautiful as ever, sitting with his back only slightly towards me, but enough where he had not noticed my presence in the room. But he soon did as I walked to the front of the room to talk to the teacher, pretending as if I did not see him sitting there.
"Class! Listen up!" The teacher practically barked at the room.
"This is Nicole. She is new here to the school and I want all of you to help her if she needs it. Now let’s begin class."
At this point, there was no avoiding the awkward stares being exchanged between me and Luke, sitting only three desks away.
When the bell rang to change classes, I casually walked out wondering if Luke would follow me so maybe I could get some answers. Like what his real name was. As I was about to reach my next class I feel a hand grab my arm that is free of books, startling me. I immediately knew who it was, as he took me into the schools empty auditorium.
"We have to stop meeting like this," I say both jokingly and completely serious at the same time.
He did not say anything. He just had that completely irritating but adorable smirk on his face.
"What?" I said starting to become self-conscience.
He continued to be silent. Instead of trying to decipher this boys mind, I had to ask, "What’s your name?"
With a few seconds of hesitation, probably just to drive me crazy he answers with, "Cameron."
Finally, the boy had a name. Instead of playing our usual, twenty questions game I looked around.
The auditorium was much larger than any school assembly would ever need. It had a high tech sound board just below the rows of red velvet seats, to match the heavy stage curtains. On the stage was an array of microphones, wires, and within reach, a piano, obviously only used for special concerts.
Cameron seemed to notice my staring and said, "You play?"
I nodded my head and asked, "You think anyone would mind...?" as I gestured towards the piano.
He shook his head and I slowly made my way to the bench, and started playing.
Now, when all you do is surviving, the simplest of things seem irrelevant, like makeup, or the weather outside. But music is different. It was what kept me sane when all I could do is try to get to the next day. So any chance I got, I played, and lately, singing became an outlet, or so says my highly paid therapist.
I played Blackbird by the Beatles, and sang like Cameron was not in the room. I had almost become unaware that he was still there. If it were not for his intense stare that I could see through the corner of my eye, I would have completely forgotten that he was there.
When I was finished with the song, Cameron spoke.
“I know who you are.”
And with those five words, Cameron had entered my world.