Sitting in class is by far the most boring thing to do on a Saturday morning.

When my phone buzzed as I was making breakfast, Scout right on my heels because Mr. Bruin came by early to ask if I could watch her for the weekend while he went to visit his daughter in New Hampshire until Tuesday night, I nearly fell on my face trying to grab it. Sure enough it was a message from one Kurt Hummel.

Why are you in class on an Saturday morning?

Oh you know Anderson, the joys of being an actor.

No, I don't know.

Well it sucks. Almost as bad as this hangover. And if my dance instructor keeps pounding that wretched stick to keep time in this studio there could be a murder. Do you know a good place to hide a body?

Laughing out loud I gathered up the pieces of my breakfast burrito, giving some sausage and bacon to Scout whose tail was murdering my thigh as she wagged it in happy anticipation then chased the food across the floor. Making my way back to the living room I curled up on the couch with the little fleece blanket I kept on the back. This apartment could be so drafty as the seasons changed into fall.

Maybe Wes is right and I am turning into a geriatric old man in a bathrobe.

Luckily I left the fuzzy slippers in my room today so there's a bonus for my youth.

You do have to go through the struggles in order to pay your dues right?

This is a due I would rather have paid in cash.

Imagine the due you'll have to pay if you get caught with your phone out. Think of all those mirrors tattling on you at every turn.

Haha! She's blind as a bat and I'm stealthy you don't even know.

You're stealthy and you're a sleuth, professional facebook stalker extraordinaire. Surprised you haven't friended me yet.

Look at you trying to put a label and a commitment on this thing already. Next thing I know I'll have a ring on my finger and an official relationship status change request.

At first I didn't know how to take this. Was he joking? Was he telling me I was coming on a bit too strong? I didn't want to seem clingy or needy right off the back. I mean sure I just posted a wanted ad on Craiglist with an assortment of music and that might come off as a little needy, or at least crazy, but that didn't mean I was clingy or needy or coming on too strong right? At least I hoped not. I really need to get this insecurity thing under control. I could blame sebastian but I'd rather not. The problem really is me.

As I stared at the wall, Scout coming and laying at my feet, my thoughts consumed me. Dalton Academy had been quite the adventure when I started there freshman year. I had just moved up to the high school at my local public school with high hopes. My life had been hell during middle school with guys bullying me for being gay, but I tried not to let it get to me. This was my chance to shine. So when the Sadie Hawkins dance rolled around I asked the guy I had a crush on to go with me. It was a pretty good night dancing and having fun, but I couldn't help feeling like something was coming. Sure enough some upper classmen caught us on the corner waiting for my dad to pick us up and beat the ever living crap out of us. Like in the hospital beat. It was awful. Tired of the bullies and the drama I retreated to Dalton Academy, a private school with a no toleration bullying policy.

Things were great there. I met some of my best friends and became the lead vocalist for our Glee club, an acapella boys group called The Warblers, which was kind of like the Yale Whiffenpoofs. We had common interests and a common goal. Then Sebastian came into my life. A new arrival my Junior year, his smirky little face and flirtations did not go unnoticed. I'm not going to lie, there was something about him right off the bat that just rubbed me the wrong way. It was like he always had the upper hand, and he knew it. And he used it to his advantage.

"Come on small fry. We all know you've got talent out the butt but that doesn't mean that everything Blaine says go. Lead vocalist does not mean fearless leader. And I think we need to mix up the boy band bebopping across the stage."

"But guys this isn't classy. This isn't what we stand for."

"This isn't your grandfather's glee club anymore squirt. So why don't you have a seat? The big boys are talking."

It was always like that. His smirk and always getting my goat. The flirtations. And I'm sorry but my willpower was weak. Ever since what happened at my old school I had the appearance of cool collectedness, but in reality I was scared. I didn't like to initiate and I was paranoid. If I was really being honest with myself I could talk about how I'm emotionally needy because my parents are disappointed in who I am as a person, if they're even home with their zipping about from one country or exotic locale to another, and my older brother acts like everything is a competition. So a lonely kid, who doesn't think much of a himself, sort of settles for the one thing he had going for him. Sebastian.

As Sebastian got more and more suggestive, I couldn't help but try to keep up with him. It was like a contest almost and I didn't want him to see me sweat. So when he took me to a bar and challenged me to a challenge trying to drink me under the table, I couldn't resist the chance to try to show him up. You know how they call people a tall drink of water? Well he must be made of water, or have an exorbitantly high alcohol tolerance because that boy carried my drunken ass back to the car like he had been sipping Kool-Aid all evening.

I'm not going to say he took advantage of me. That wasn't it at all. But I was intoxicated and he was attractive and I did get handsy and I did kiss him in the back of that Volvo all desperate and heated. And when he tangled his hands in my hair I couldn't help but moan into him encouragingly. As his hands trailed inside my shirt it felt like my skin was on fire. And I don't remember exactly how we ended up laying in the back of the car, but I do remember clothes being pushed aside and how he felt smooth like glass in my hand and his fingers were gripped around me like a vice. And after a few moments we were both laying there breathing heavy, hot and sticky, and I thought what does this mean. As my eyes met his with the question written all over my face he laughed and said that I was cute when I was worked up and he was going to take me home.

From there things didn't turn heated exactly, but it was like this unspoken thing between us. A look across the room would result in both of us going searching for something later and pressed to the wall hands everywhere desperate and needy. Whenever I tried to do something sweet though he patronized me. We didn't date or go to dances. It was just this unbridled lust, and I remember having a bitter taste in my mouth every time he would sort of slink away with a condescending tone or jab. Every time I tried to make it more, turn it into a relationship, he'd sort of pat me on the cheek like I was cute and left.

I felt used and dirty and I didn't want it to be like that again.

Not that Kurt was using me or dirty, but the silly banter did leave me with a lot of internal questions myself.

I guess I'd zoned out for a while because when I looked down at my phone there were more messages.

Did my relationship talk scare you away? Not to self, avoid commitment.

No. I was just pondering how to take this. I guess I'll just have to wait for you to friend me.

Whew. I thought I'd lost my salvation through this wretched morning.

I'm your salvation?

You are today. And pretty much any day that I have class and am bored. So you better exercise your thumbs.

Is that right? I'd like you to know I'm good with my hands.

I figured you were. I stalked your pictures remember? They're nice.

As are yours all slim and long.

Too bad you can't see them in the flesh. Rachel is always jealous of my porcelain baby butt soft hands.

Maybe one day I will. We'll have to see how this interview goes.

Interview?

Yeah. Your interview to deem the worthiness of you to my friendship.

Oh I'm worthy.

Confident are we?

I am. You're bound to love me.