I recall having a boyfriend at the time. But I wasn't in love; it was a relationship that occurred under peer pressure. During high school, I had also studied in an extracurricular art institution. There I met him... I was on my daily routine: go to school, get out, go to art classes in the afternoon, and walk around until the workshops begin. As I paced in the halls, I heard music from afar calling out my attention. It was oddly beautiful, yet a little out of tune. I followed the strangely mesmerizing sounds and found him, casually sitting against the wall playing the -unplugged- electric guitar. When I reach close enough to see his face, he turns to my direction and stops dabbling. Jesus. Why do I feel so awkward? Why is this stranger calling my attention? Why did he stop? Did I interrupt him? Why can't I move? What do I say?... Who is he?... He salutes a smile and I shatter: my cheeks boil, my palms sweat like crazy, and my thoughts hit self-destruct. I recompose, smile as if this was our everyday greeting, and walk away. I feel his eyes still on me which makes my neck hairs stand on end. I keep thinking about him for the rest of the day until the drowsiness drifts my thoughts away. I don't recall exactly how we became friends, or even how we ever spoke. All I know is, after two years of secret crushing and constant blushing, it was the best relationship I could ever ask for. Because of him, I can finally say: he was my first love.
