I was at his locker when I told him.
“So…you like me?” He mumbled while he shoved books and papers into his backpack and hunted around in his jam-packed locker. He was trying to hide from me. I could tell.
I had to say something. “So…” I moved closer to him, sweeping the dark hair out of my eyes.
Slowly, he glanced up at me.
I lost myself in his eyes. They were the color of coffee, a deep rich color, and I felt myself slowly falling into them.
Standing up straight, he turned to face me, shoving his hands into his pocket. I glanced over his body. Thick black hair, beautiful face, slender body. I couldn’t help but love him. He had come from Spain only a year before. The first time I met him I was running to photo class. It was so cliché, the way we met. He was coming out of the counselor’s office right as I was rounding the corner. I didn’t see the door opening. And when my eyes opened next, I was in the nurse’s office, and he was sitting there beside me, holding my hand.
“Sam.” My name on his tongue broke me from my daydream. ”Sam, I don’t know what to say.” And it was only those few words that made my heart hit rock bottom. They hit me with the force of a million rockets, and I felt my body trembling with the blow.
“Sam?”
“Pedro, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.”
Twisting on my heel, I walked quickly down the vacant hall. I could hear him calling after me.
Sam. Sam! SAM! But I ignored him. I blocked out his desperate voice and ran, with my eyes blurred with tears, far far far away from him.

Hours later I was strumming my guitar, thinking of what had happened. My fingers licked the strings sadly, caressing their sharp cords; and before I knew it, I was creating a song, a song that I would have to perform on Friday.

Taking a seat on the tall stool that stood in front of the mic that Friday, I adjusted the guitar strap on my shoulder, and then glanced up. Hundreds of eyes were on me, and their mouths were silent. I spoke into the microphone. “Hey, I’m Sam. Uhm...this is just a little song I wrote for someone that I care about very much. It’s called See Me.”

He knows my name
And he knows my face
But does he know me, does he see
What is truly me?
Can he see inside all this pain, these lies?
Does he get that I can’t keep him off my mind?
I tell you, baby, but you just don’t understand
This feeling inside, no I can’t hide from you
Because it’s true
That I’m in love with you…

I felt the tears starting to well up in my eyes, and I tried to hold them back but I couldn’t. They dripped onto my lips and moistened my tongue. They startled my vocal chords and I fumbled, my voice cracking. I couldn’t keep going. My fingers stopped strumming and I let my head hang and the tears drip down my face.
I don’t know how long it was. Merely a few seconds. But I heard my name being called and when I opened my eyes, there was Pedro, his eyes staring at me right in front of the stage. And then he was on the stage, tilting my head up, inches from my face.
“Sam,” he whispered, his accent rolling my name. “I can see you.”
And then his beautiful eyes closed and his soft lips touched mine lightly. He tasted like I had always dreamed he had, and I sighed, closing my eyes, and left the rest of the world behind.