Im awake by dawn, giddy with anticipation, grinning up at the ceiling of my closet. I dont even know if this is a date, but I pick out my clothes carefully just in case it is. Im torn as to whether to look polished or casual. Kurt was wearing skinny jeans yesterday, so I pull a similar pair out of a drawer. Then I reach for a charcoal gray button-up shirt, Burberry-patterned suspenders, and bright red socks for whimsy. I shower and style my hair, shave and dress.

How early is too early to arrive?

My GPS estimates that Ill get to Lima shortly before nine oclock if I leave now, and although thats over an hour early, I figure it cant hurt to allow for traffic delays. I grab my laptop case and a few notebooks so my mom will think Im heading out to study. It makes me feel uneasy to lie to my parents – Im not in the habit – but I know I didnt misinterpret my dads tone of voice last night. If I have to have a secret, something tells me that Kurt is worth it.

Its snowing lightly when I reach Lima around eight forty-five. Everything looks so clean and fresh with a dusting of snow on it, and I find myself humming Christmas carols under my breath as I park in the little lot outside the Lima Bean. I head inside, shaking snow off my scarf, and–

And hes here already.

Kurt is sitting at the same table as yesterday, dreamy as ever. Hes sipping from a coffee cup and flipping through the latest issue of Vogue, allowing me the chance to study him stealthily. Hes dressed to the nines in a gorgeous McQueen jacket, silk scarf and slim pinstriped pants. Im half-considering driving back to Westerville to change into something dressier and come back, but then he looks up and sees me. Looks me up and down and smiles so appreciatively that I might just have to wear this outfit every day for the rest of eternity.

I head over to the table, taking off my scarf and draping my peacoat over the back of a chair. "Good morning."

"Morning," he says a little breathlessly. "You remembered."

"As if I could ever forget you," I return, flirting shamelessly.

His face falls, and oh shit, its not a date at all. I misread the situation completely. He might not even be gay. Hes just a straight guy with a high voice and great style, and I totally profiled him and now Im sexually harassing him in the middle of a coffee shop–

"Relax, Blaine," Kurt says, clearing his throat. "Its a date; its supposed to be awkward."

Its a date. The words are echoing in my mind – its a date its a date its a date – and I completely miss what hes saying next. Trying unsuccessfully to tamp down my glee, I drop into the chair across from him and offer a toothy smile. "Sorry, what?"

He looks amused. "I was asking if you wanted coffee or something."

"Oh! Yes. Coffee." And Im back on my feet, heading halfway over to the front counter before spinning back towards him and adding, "Do you want anything?"

He gestures to his cup of coffee. "Im all set, thanks."

"Kay." Theres a different barista today, which Im sort of relieved about – that Bethany girl was a little weird. I order a medium drip coffee and a plate of biscotti, and when I get back to the table, Kurts holding a shaker of cinnamon. "Whats that?"

"Cinnamon."

"Well, I can see that." I roll my eyes, secretly enjoying that his dimple is showing. Adorable. "Whats it for?"

"Try it in your coffee."

"No thanks, Im kind of a purist."

"Trust me," he says, and for some reason, the moment feels heavy. Like hes asking more of me than I know.

Finally I take the shaker, pulling the lid off my cup and sprinkling a dash of cinnamon into the coffee. "That enough?"

"A little more."

I give a couple more shakes before he nods. When I take a tentative sip, its–

"Oh my god," I moan. "Oh my god."

"Right?"

"Thats fantastic."

"I thought you might like it."

We grin at each other dopily. "So," I say, as he takes a sip of his own coffee. "I was hoping youd help me with something."

"Oh?"

"I have a years worth of lost memories, and I just have to ask..." I gesture toward his copy of Vogue. "What fashion trends did I miss?"

His eyes light up. "Well!" he exclaims, and then goes into a long tirade about how Maxis just shouldnt be stylish, ever and The world was not clamoring for scrunchies to make a comeback and How long till kilts are trendy again, because I think weve all waited long enough. I just nod obligingly and smile when it seems expected, taking the opportunity to stare at him some more.

Hes not my type.

I think thats the weirdest thing about all this. Kurt is just not my type. I tend to fall for guys who are older. More masculine looking. Ive never been interested in guys like Kurt before, and yet its like hes the most beautiful, mesmerizing person Ive ever seen. The first time I laid eyes on him, I knew hed be smart, and funny, and warm. Hes all of those things, and really, Ive never fallen so fast.

Fashion was apparently the right way to break the ice. He talks and talks, until all the nervousness has slipped away and it feels like were just old friends having coffee.

"Enough of my voice," he says finally, looking sheepish. "Tell me about yourself, Blaine."

"Im afraid its not a very interesting story."

"Thats okay, I have low standards."

We both laugh. "Okay, well, Im originally from California. My family moved to Ohio when I was five, so that my dad could set up a private practice in Westerville." I pause to take a sip of coffee, then continue. "Im an only child. Always loved singing and dancing. Not so great at sports. What else... Uh... I came out to my parents when I was twelve. Went to public school until freshman year, when the bullying got too bad. My dads family is originally from the Westerville area and had connections at Dalton, so the school let me transfer mid-year. Transferred to another public school my senior year, got attacked, brain trauma, memory loss, blah blah blah."

"Im fairly certain thats the only time in history that the phrase brain trauma, memory loss, blah blah blah has been uttered."

I shrug. "At this point Im used to it. Its old news."

Kurt is fiddling with a piece of biscotti, not looking at me. "So... why did you transfer to the other public school?"

"Did I not mention the memory loss?" I say cheekily.

"I know you dont remember. But you must have asked your parents at some point."

"I did, yeah. It was the first thing I asked them when they told me about the attack."

"And?"

"My dad said Id just gotten the idea in my head." This isnt quite true. What my dad actually said, sounding terribly bitter, was You were in love. And then he looked at my mom, his eyes widening, and added, with the idea of going back to public school.

Its a strange memory. But then, so many of my memories are strange.

Kurt nods blankly. "I see."

"And now Im home-schooled, as you know. I spend most of my time studying or hanging out with my parents."

"What about your friends?"

"What friends?" I smile ruefully. "Ive known you for a day, and youre the closest thing I have to a friend."

His mouth falls open. "Youre not serious."

"As a heart attack. Guess I was a pretty unpopular guy."

"But what about your Dalton friends?"

"Never heard from any of them."

"What about Wes...terville people?" His eyes dart away.

"No, man, theres no one. Way to rub it in."

"Im not judging you – youre great, Blaine. You deserve friends. You deserve to see someone other than your mom or dad."

"Im seeing you, arent I?" He smiles at me, slow and warm, and I can feel my stomach flip-flop sweetly. "So. Tell me about yourself," I say, leaning my chin on my hand and smiling back at him. "I want to know what makes Kurt..."

"Hummel."

"What makes Kurt Hummel tick."

"Well..." he takes a sip from his coffee, looking thoughtful. "I was born and raised in Lima. Always very theatrical, always into fashion." I give a one-shoulder shrug. No surprises there. "My mom died when I was young, so it was just me and my dad for a long time."

"What was that like?"

"Hard. Lonely. Luckily I have a great dad. He accepts me for who I am, and I know I can always count on him." Kurts fingers start stroking at the scar on his neck again. "When I was in high school, he got remarried. So our little family doubled; I had a new step-mom and step-brother. Carole is a nurse, and Finn works at the auto shop with me and Dad."

"Do you like them?"

"I love them." Hes stroking the scar harder now, his fingernails catching on the thin chain of his necklace. "Finns a great guy. He was the star quarterback at my high school, and he always had my back when he could." His hand stills as he realizes what hes doing, and he pulls it back, blushing.

"When did your attack happen?" I broach gently, and he grows tense.

"I dont want to talk about it."

"Okay." We sit in silence for what feels like forever, until I ask, "What sort of necklace are you wearing?"

He looks startled. "What?"

"You were wearing that chain the last time I saw you, too. Why do you keep it under your clothes?"

"I..." Kurt takes a deep breath, and pulls the chain out from under his jacket. I can see a silver ring dangling from it. The ring is delicate and intricate and absolutely gorgeous – it looks like winding vines of ivy, all in sterling silver.

"Wow. Thats stunning."

"Thanks. I designed them, actually."

"Them?"

"My boyfriend and I ordered them together, as promise rings. We used a jeweler in Columbus."

And with that, the world stops. My breathing, my heart, everything stops. "Oh," I choke out. "You and your boyfriend."

"Yeah."

"I should... I should go."

He looks up from the ring. "What?"

"I think we had different ideas about today." My head is spinning. I need to go home. And hide in my closet. For the rest of my life. "I thought... but you have a boyfriend, and–"

"Blaine." He reaches out to grab my hand, stilling me as Im trying to rise to my feet. "I dont have a boyfriend."

"But you said–"

"I had one."

"Had."

"But not anymore."

I sit back down hard, blowing out a sharp breath of relief. "Not–"

"No."

"Then why are you still wearing the ring?"

Kurt is still holding my hand, squeezing it tightly. "That night... I wasnt the only one attacked. My boyfriend was with me, and they went after him a lot harder. As bad as my injuries were, his were even worse, and..." He swallows hard. "And I lost him."

"Oh my god," I gasp. "I am so, so sorry." I squeeze his hand back hard. This explains his tears yesterday, and the abrupt way he left the coffee shop. Ill bet Im the first guy hes dated since his boyfriend died. "That must have been so painful."

He nods, blinking fast. "It was."

I take a deep breath. "Kurt... it seems like this is still really fresh for you. Are you sure you want to move on so quickly? Maybe what you need right now is a friend."

Hes trembling a little, but his voice is steady. "Blaine, believe me when I say you are the only person Id consider moving on with."

My heart skips a beat. He understands. He feels it too, this connection between us. Im still a little uneasy about how ready he is to start something new, but I have to give it a chance. "How about we just take things slowly, and tell each other if anything goes faster than wed like."

"That sounds perfect." He squeezes my hand again before letting go. "Ive got to get to work. Maybe we could see each other next week?"

"Or tomorrow?" I ask hopefully.

He smiles, looking relieved. "Yes. Tomorrow. Same time, same place?"

"Ill be here." I watch him leave, and wonder how early Ill need to arrive in order to beat him here.