Kurt calls me that night, about an hour before Im supposed to meet Sebastian and his friends at Scandals.

"Hey," I mumble, chewing on my thumbnail. "Please tell me youre calling to say the deals off."

"Are you nervous?" he asks, and I huff out a laugh.

"Ive been staring at a pile of my clothes for the past two hours," I admit. "How am I supposed to know what to wear to this place?"

"Oh, honey, choosing your attire is my job. What are your options?""

I clear my throat, grinning like an idiot. He called me honey. "Well, most of my wardrobe is back at my parents house. But theres still a decent selection here. Couple of pairs of black pants, some khakis, three pairs of jeans, a bunch of button-ups, some cardigans-"

"Seriously?" he interrupts. "Those are the descriptors youre giving me to work with? I need details, Blaine. What kinds of jeans do you have there?"

"Um... denim ones?"

He sucks in air slowly, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. "Do you have your dark bootcut jeans?"

I pick through the pile. "Uh, yeah, theres... wait, no. This pair is too long for me."

"Oh, those must be mine. Id wondered where theyd gone. Keep looking."

I check in the back of one of the drawers. "Ah! Okay. Yes."

"Good. Now, describe the button-ups."

"Theres four of them. White, red, gray, blue-and-white pinstriped."

"Red would make you look like youre on the prowl, but white would make you look too innocent. Pinstripes look like business attire. Go with the gray. Is it the Ralph Lauren?"

I peek at the tag. "Yup."

"Perfect. Your shoulders look hot in that one. Dont button it all the way up to the collar, though. What about shoes?"

"I only have my snow boots or black loafers to choose from, so yeah, Im going with the loafers." I heave out a pathetic sigh, sitting down on the bed. "You sure you dont want to come with me? Its karaoke night. Didnt we sing together in glee club, back in the day?"

"We did," he says, sounding a little wistful. "I miss that."

"I bet theyll have two microphones."

"Bet they will."

"Come."

"Nope. Have fun. Youll call me after?"

"Try and stop me."

Scandals isnt too hard to find. The building isnt quite what I expected, though. From the outside it looks more like a pancake house than anything else. I climb out of my car, reach into the backseat to retrieve my jacket, and—

And suddenly I can see the faint background of the bar in the distance, through a haze of confusion and sticky drunken memory. Im lying in the backseat of my old station wagon, Kurt half on top of me as Im clutching at him and wanting him, wanting him so bad and—

And the vision disappears, in an instant. I spin around, trying to recreate the moment, but its gone. Slipping my jacket on with a sigh, I steel myself and head toward the building.

I can do this. Whats the worst that could happen?

Sebastian is waiting for me just inside the doorway. He smiles appreciatively when he sees me, and slips a flat ID card into my hand. "My name is Waldo Warbler?" I hiss, reading the fake drivers license. "From Waldoville, North Carolina?"

"Relax," he whispers. "Its just a formality. The bouncer never even reads them."

Sure enough, when we hand our IDs to the bearded man at the entrance to the bar, he barely glances at us before nodding and turning back to his crossword puzzle. I follow Sebastian inside, hang my jacket in the long coatrack, and look around curiously. There are about thirty men here and, as Kurt predicted, most of them are wearing jeans and flannel shirts. A few of the men glance over at us before rolling their eyes and whispering to each other. I can feel my cheeks burning as we head over to the bar.

"Vodka tonic for me," Sebastian says to the bartender. "And my dashing companion here will have—"

"A Shirley Temple," I blurt out. "With extra cherries."

His smile falters, but he recovers quickly. "Why dont we get you something stronger?" he suggests. "Something to help you relax?"

"Cant drink alcohol. Im taking medicine that cant... driving and underaged allergies..." God, Im the worst liar. He just shrugs, and we take our drinks from the bartender.

"To second chances," Sebastian says warmly, clinking our glasses.

I smile weakly, taking a small sip of my drink. Its strange, being out with someone who isnt Kurt. Its not bad, necessarily. Sebastian is just as handsome as I remembered him, and Im digging the atmosphere of this place. I fish a cherry out of my drink and chew it slowly, looking around the room. Karaoke has already begun. A middle-aged guy in a trucker hat is belting out "Girls Just Want to Have Fun," which seems like an odd choice, considering the demographic of his audience. I pop another cherry in my mouth, nodding my head along to the beat.

"You know, I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue," Sebastian murmurs, moving closer to me. I cant help freezing, and he frowns. "God, loosen up, Blaine. Im not about to date-rape you."

"Im sorry," I murmur bashfully. "Im just new at this. Dating, I mean."

"Right... I forgot. Its okay." He rubs my knee affectionately.

As if I werent already uncomfortable enough, I notice that Sebastians two Dalton friends are out on the dance floor, watching us. The short guy with the mole — Morgan, I think — is doing a funny taekwondo inspired dance to the music. But the big blond guy, Lawrence, is just swaying off-tempo while he steals glances at me and Sebastian, his eyes narrowed. "Whats the deal with your friend?"

Sebastian looks over at them and smirks, as Lawrence glares harder and Morgan laughs and waves to us. "Hes harmless."

"Doesnt look harmless."

"He might be a little jealous. We tend to hook up when Im not dating anyone else."

"So you brought him along on our date?" I ask, aghast, as Lawrence abandons dancing altogether, standing stock still and staring.

"I needed backup for my songs tonight. Besides, we all started drinking an hour ago. Once the liquor wears off, it wont be so awkward. I promise." He smiles charmingly at me, and for a moment I let myself wonder what it would be like to have a guy like Sebastian for a boyfriend. Kind of exciting, probably. He seems like he gets off on danger, on breaking the rules. Hes attractive, and hes interested in me.

Am I interested in him, though? If I am, then why does he leave me feeling so tense and uneasy? Am I letting my growing feelings for Kurt push a perfectly nice guy out of the running?

The Cyndi Lauper track ends, and the crowd breaks into applause for the singer as he steps off the platform. Next up is a younger guy, probably closer to our age. Hes burly and baby-faced, with a tough expression on his face. Im expecting Springsteen, maybe, or Bon Jovi. So Im surprised when the first few notes of a Cary Brothers song fill the air. He closes his eyes and leans into the microphone to sing.

Wish enough, wise manll tell you a lie
Window broke, torn up screams
Whod have thought that youd dream
Of a single tragic scene
I just wanna sing a song with you
I just wanna take it off of you

Cause Blue Eyes
You are all that I need
Cause Blue Eyes
Youre the sweet to my mean

Sebastian is saying something to me, but I cant take my eyes off the singer. He sounds so soulful, almost pained. With every word he sings, I think of Kurt. How his striking blue eyes were the first thing I noticed about him when we met at the coffee shop. How I couldnt quite describe their precise shade of blue.

Fess it up, dot on the palm of your hand
I can help you to stand
Saved it up for this dance
Tell me all the things you can
I just wanna sing a song with you
I just wanna be the one thats true

Cause blue eyes
Youre the secret I keep—

"Hey," Sebastian says, louder, and I tear my eyes away from the karaoke stage. Hes looking at me strangely. "What gives?"

"What?"

"Were on a date, and youre ogling the Michelin Man up on the stage."

"No, I... I like his song. Thats all."

He shifts his jaw, glancing back at the singer. "Do you want to dance?"

"Dance?"

"Yeah, its this new craze thats sweeping the nation. Rhythmic movement to a soundtrack." He glances down appraisingly, adding, "I bet youre pretty good at rhythmic movement."

"I..." What can I say? I cant exactly claim to be allergic to dancing. Nodding reluctantly, I follow him out onto the dance floor. There are a few other couples swaying together. Thankfully, Lawrence and Morgan seem to have disappeared for the moment. Sebastians arms wind around my waist, pulling me close. I hold onto his shoulders awkwardly as we start to move.

And there it is again — the tension. Its never been there between me and Kurt. Sebastian is pulling at me, urging me closer, but Ive locked my elbows to keep a reasonable distance between us. "See?" he asks softly. "This isnt so bad, is it?" He squeezes my waist before sliding his palms down to my hips slowly. They dont seem to be stopping there, and their path is curving down backwards, and Im panicking and thinking about what a gentleman is supposed to do in this situation—

And then, mercifully, I notice the men around us are clapping. The song is over. I pull back quickly, adding some overenthusiastic applause of my own. Sebastian joins in after a seconds pause. The next number is called out, and his face brightens. "This is us," he says excitedly.

"Us?"

"Me, I mean. The guys are doing backup."

"I thought you said they couldnt carry a tune?"

"They cant. Luckily theyre not the ones singing. Watch us?" His green eyes are intense.

"Sure, of course. Ill sit over at the bar so I have a good view." I retreat and perch on a barstool, reclaiming my drink and wondering if anyone could have roofied it during our thirty-second dance. The bartender is standing only a couple of feet away, though, and I doubt anyone would be so brazen. I sip the Shirley Temple as Sebastian and his friends get settled onstage, and take the opportunity to check out the rest of the Scandals patrons. Most of them are a lot older than us. They seem confident, sure of themselves. I wonder how they came to be that way, growing up in a place like Lima.

A few opening chords and a strong beat blare from the speakers, and the crowd goes wild. I cant help but laugh as Sebastian bursts into song, with Lawrence and Morgan dancing enthusiastically behind him.

Young man, theres no need to feel down, I said
Young man, pick yourself off the ground, I said
Young man, cause youre in a new town
Theres no need to be unhappy

"Gimme a Bud Light, Rick," comes an amused voice nearby. "Im gonna need it to get through yet another rendition of YMCA."

"One second, kid, have to mix up some daiquiris first. Be right with you."

I turn to look at the guy leaning against the bar, and am pleasantly surprised to see the "Blue Eyes" singer from earlier.

"Hey," I call over. He looks up at me and takes a sharp breath. "I really enjoyed your song."

He pauses. "Uh. Thanks."

"I loved how deeply you seemed to connect with it," I add. The guy turns away, looking back at the bartender with a tight jaw, and it occurs to me that he probably thinks Im hitting on him. Oh, god, thats why he looks so displeased. I should make it clear that Im not. "The lyrics totally spoke to me, too. Ive been seeing this incredible guy, Kurt, who has the most gorgeous blue eyes—"

I dont get to finish that thought, as Im pushed up against the bar hard, the guys hand flat against my chest. His gaze is livid. "Do yourself a favor. Stop talking." I can hear the crowd chanting Y-M-C-A along with Sebastian, oblivious to the dangerous glint in the guys eyes. The bartender notices, though, and leans over to shove at his shoulder.

"Take your beer and walk away, Dave. Dont make me call George over."

The guy — Dave — pushes a little harder before letting me go. I breathe shakily as he stomps off, beer in hand.

"You all right, kid?" the bartender asks.

I nod quickly, picking my glass back up and trying to keep my hands from trembling. Sebastian is still belting out his song onstage, and Kurts probably home safe in his bed, and all I can think about is the Sadie Hawkins dance, and the attack last year, and if Im not safe in a gay bar, where exactly am I supposed to go?

I dont know how long Im sitting there before I sense people standing around me.

"Well?" Sebastian asks. "Whatd you think?"

"It was great," I reply, struggling to smile and knowing that Im falling short. "You guys had the audience eating out of your hand."

Morgan shakes his head. "Nah, it was all Sebastian. We were just the go-go dancers behind him."

"I thought my form was quite good," Lawrence says stiffly.

Theyre laughing, the three of them, relaxed as can be. And me, I just need to get out of here. "Im going to get some air," I tell Sebastian. "Keep an eye on my drink?"

He smiles quizzically. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just a bit warm. Ill be right back."

I make my way through the crowd toward the exit, not thinking of my jacket or the cold or anything but getting out, getting out, getting out until Im gulping fresh, cold air. I lean over, my hands on my knees, and to my horror, when I straighten up, hes there. Hes standing to the side of the building, but when he sees me, he starts walking toward me slowly.

"I dont want any trouble." My hands are in the air at once, remembering the sharp pain of fists to the stomach, and grateful not to remember the crowbar to the skull. "I dont know what I did to offend you, but—"

"You lead a charmed life," he says softly. "Thats what you did." Dave stops a few feet away, and looks toward the parking lot, still nursing his beer.

He doesnt look like hes about to attack me, but that doesnt mean anything. I cant let my guard down. "I have problems," I tell him. "You see this scar on my head? Last year—"

"I used to build model airplanes when I was a kid," he interrupts. "My dad helped me. Mom didnt have a lot of time or patience for me, but Dad was big into teaching me what men did, what men liked. I idolized him, you know? Always wanted his approval, and always got it. I played football and hed come to every game. I wasnt always the best student or the best friend, but Ive always been the best son I could be, for him." I just blink at him, confused, and he takes one step closer. "Used to hang the model airplanes we made on strings over my bed," he says, quieter. "Had to take them down a few months ago. They kept giving me ideas, when Id see them hanging there."

My stomach hurts. It feels like as though he punched me after all.

"Im sorry I pushed you," he continues. "Im sorry for everything Ive done. But you lead a charmed fucking life, man."

He throws the rest of his beer into a nearby trash bin and walks off toward the parking lot. I lose track of time out here, shivering in the cold, until the door opens again. Sebastians friend Morgan is standing there, frowning at me. "Whatre you doing? Its freezing out, youre going to catch pneumonia or something."

"Just... been thinking." I wrap my arms around myself.

"Well, hurry up with your thinking. Sebastian wants to do a barbershop quartet or something, and god knows Im not gonna be the one to keep it on pitch."

I follow him inside, but the cold feeling doesnt go away. If anything, it grows stronger, until Im shaking all over. Sebastian is grinning at me and holding up my glass — do I need to worry that he would roofie it? — and Lawrence is watching me with an alarmed look, and god, I cant do this. I stumble over to them. "Im not feeling well," I say. "I think I should go."

"Probably," Lawrence nods. "Yeah, probably you should go."

Sebastian puts a hand on my shoulder, looking concerned. "Are you sure? If youre sick, maybe you shouldnt get behind the wheel of your car." He gets up from his stool, though, leading me toward the exit, for which Im incredibly grateful.

"No, yeah, I should be okay to drive."

He retrieves my jacket and helps me into it, then walks me to my car. His friends stay behind, and Dave is nowhere in sight, so its just the two of us out here. His breaths make little clouds in the cold night air. "Can I see your phone for a second?" I hand it to him numbly and he fiddles with it for a minute before handing it back. "I just programmed my number in. I want you to text me when you get home, okay? So I dont have to worry about you."

Hes different out here, away from everyone else. Its kind of nice. "Okay, I will." Theres a terrifying moment when I think hes going to lean in and kiss me, but he just grips my shoulder again before turning and walking back inside.

I get back to Robs apartment and take a long, hot shower, trying in vain to wash off the unease of the night. Is this how dating is supposed to feel? Sticky and confusing? I try to assess how it went, how I felt about being out with Sebastian, but every time I close my eyes I see Daves face, haunting and accusatory. After toweling off, I slip on a pair of pajamas. I shoot a quick text to Sebastian — back, safe, thanks for tonight — before grabbing Kurts pillow off the couch and settling back in bed. I smile as I dial the one person I really want to talk to. He answers almost instantly.

"Hello?"

"Why, hello there," I say. He sighs, and its like all of my tension melts away instantly. "You all right? What were you doing when I called?"

"Reading a tantalizing biography of Billie Holiday. Did you know that she—"

"I missed you." Its rude to interrupt, but I think he needs to know. "Tonight, at Scandals. I wished you were there with me." He makes the tiniest sound, almost a squeak, and I close my eyes. "You really thought Id get swept off my feet by that guy, didnt you?"

"Had to prepare myself for the worst," he says after a pause.

"But why?"

"Because life tends to throw the worst at me."

I push my cheek deeper into the pillow. I like how it still smells like him. "When do I get to see you next?"

Hes quiet for a long moment. "What are you doing on Friday?"

"Nothing..."

"How about I take the day off from work, and we can spend it together? Let me take you on a date. A proper one."

Smiling, I close my eyes. "You gonna bring me chocolate and roses?" I think of my closet shelf, suddenly, and feel a pang of longing.

"Its a surprise. Nothing fancy. Just an opportunity for us to get to know each other better."

"Sounds great." I can feel myself breathing more evenly, starting to drift off to sleep. "Even if we go out on a date on Friday," I murmur sleepily, "youre still going to meet me at the Lima Bean every morning, right?"

"Try and stop me."