Dear Journal,

I finally see what the big deal about backseats is. 

Blaine and I celebrated our one year anniversary yesterday and he asked if we could go out for a picnic by the lake. It was better than anything I could come up with because there really just isn’t a lot to do in this dead end town (just you wait till we’re in New York, Blaine).

I had made us a rather fabulous lunch spread, if I do say so myself, and I even had time to make some homemade lemonade, too. I kept having to fight Dad and Finn off as they tried to sneak some of the brownies I had baked, but it was worth it for the look on Blaine’s face when he took his first bite. 

 Blaine insisted we take my car and while I didn’t mind driving us, I did wonder at his vehemence. It all became clear, though, after we had picked up our lunch and began to make our way home again. 

It had been chilly, but dry all day, but we decided to call it a day when the sky kept getting darker. I guess that happens when you try to have a picnic in March. I was all set to drive us to Blaine’s house because his parents were away on yet another business trip, but Blaine surprised me by pulling me into the backseat. 

I had never been more glad that Dad gave me an SUV for my Sweet Sixteen than when we both had to fit in my backseat. It was still a tight squeeze, but we did fit, unlike what would’ve happened if we had taken Blaine’s Prius. We did eventually make it to Blaine’s house and continued our celebrations there, but I don’t think I’ll ever look at those seats, or that parking lot, the same way again. Here’s hoping Dad won’t ever find out…

~ Kurt