CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 30

BLAINE

Four days.

Four days of near radio silence from Kurt and I was losing my mind.

In the past four days, I had received one text message from Kurt. It came through Thursday afternoon while I was staring at my ceiling hoping to make sense of what happened with Kurt. I was smiling like a crazy person when Kurt's name flashed on my screen, but it dropped once I read the message's content.

I'm alive. –K

It was somewhat of a relief since I was worried about his well being but I was hoping for a longer text message, perhaps something along of the lines of "come over" or "this is why I decided to leave you in Ohio with your parents at the airport with no explanation."

No, just two words; two words in four days.

Internally, I was fighting with my emotions. In a small way, I was irritated with Kurt. I had no idea what happened to make him freak out and leave me like that. I was confused; Kurt's emotions seemed brash and not nearly as cool and collected as he normally appeared to be. His drastic change in behavior – and itinerary – seemed slightly out of character for him. But more than anything, I was worried. Worried that I'd done something irreparable to our relationship and that I would be losing out on the best thing that happened to me in years – maybe even ever. I didn't know what I'd done, but it wouldn't have been the first time that I was completely oblivious to the people around me.

Santana had remained tight-lipped when I questioned her after her afternoon with Kurt, aside from saying that he's fine and left it at that. Even when I continued to ask her questions, she would just sigh and ignore me before giving way to the death glare that I imagine she and Kurt had copywritten since it was truly terrifying from either of them.

So I had spent the days wallowing and worrying.

I was thankful that Jeremy had to reschedule our time in the studio to resume the week after the New Year, but it did mean I was left to my thoughts – a dangerous place to be. But rather than keep things inside my head for once, I was doing something that I hadn't done in years; writing songs. I still performed at the occasional amateur night at local coffee shops, but I hadn't performed my own material before; at least not outside the confines of my room. I had only written a handful of songs, but now the songs were pouring out of me like never before.

This feeling of uncertainty with Kurt had hit me in a way that I hadn't expected; it was refreshing and terrifying at the same time. Refreshing to know that Kurt clearly meant something to me because I could pull lyrics from my soul that had depth and true meaning as if it was nothing. But it scared me because if Kurt and I did break up – for good? God, I didn't know now – it would be more damaging than my breakup with Jared; I might be irrevocably marred and broken.

There's nothing more terrifying in the world than making yourself vulnerable. And really, that's what you do every time you're in a relationship; you set yourself up to fall in love and possibly get hurt somewhere down the line. These four days of us being apart showed me that if I ever doubted if I truly loved Kurt, I knew that it was the absolute truth now. Without him even realizing, I had given him the power to boost me up and tear me down; to love me and to hurt me more than I – or he, maybe – thought possible.

The fluctuation in my emotions had caused a stir and the only place that they made sense was written on a piece of paper with chords accompanying my anguish. They always said you should be thankful for heartache since it would result in great works of art, but I was not thrilled with that prospect at the moment.

So there I sat, on my couch, stubbly from the lack of shaving with sweatpants on and yesterday's hair product still evident in my crazed hairstyle, with a guitar in my hands for the first time in months.

I sat picking away at the melody that had tattooed itself in my mind over the past two days. The music had started to come to me on the flight back from Ohio and taunted me in my sleep for the past few nights. The lyrics came together – in the shower of all places – and seemed to flawlessly marry themselves with the help of the blue guitar in my grasp.

I can't believe that it's real,
the way that you make me feel.
A burning deep down inside,
a love that I cannot hide.
Our love is you and me baby,
that makes the world go round.
And if you've been doin' lovin' with me,
layin' all my troubles down,
here I am, baby,
come and take me.
Here I am, baby,
come and take me,
take me by the hand.
Show me,
here I am, baby.

It always ends up this way,
me begging you every day.
A love that I cannot have,
you broke my heart into half.
Our love is you and me baby,
that make's the world go round.
And if you've been doin' lovin' with me,
layin' all my troubles down,
here I am, baby,
come and take me,
Here I am, baby,
come and take me,
take me by the hand.
Show me,
here I am, baby.

Initially the song had taken a somber beat and the tones were full of sharps and flats, but it had managed to transform into a mo-town track. The somewhat upbeat track now seemed to match the way I felt inside; overjoyed at the love I felt but sorrowful in the fact that it could soon be gone forever.

And really, I just wanted Kurt to know that I was here – that I would be here if and when he wanted me to be. His absence in my life made that clearer and I yearned to right the situation... if he ever gave me the chance.

I haphazardly put my guitar aside and groaned as I rose from my couch, answering my stomach's call for food. I couldn't keep track when I had eaten last, but it had to be long enough for me to feel a sense of fatigue as I dragged myself into the kitchen. I hadn't been grocery shopping since I'd returned home, but I knew I had at least a packet or two of ramen tucked away that I could nibble on.

As the water on the stove began to boil, my phone blared from the other room. Hoping that it was Kurt, I jetted over to the couch only to be confronted with even more feelings of relief and fear.

ItwasKurt. And he was calling me. I took a deep breath to steady myself before answering.

"Hello?"

"Blaine."

I sighed in relief at the sound of his voice, hoping he didn't notice. "Hi."

"We need to talk."

I stiffened at his phrasing. Whenever someone started a sentence like that, it never ended well. In this situation, it was the start of The Break Up Conversation. "Uh, o-okay," I stuttered.

"Can you meet me in half an hour?" he asked, his tone even yet curt.

"Yes," I breathed. "Where?"

"There's a diner down the street from my place – The Diner. Meet me there at 1," he stated, not giving me room to negotiate or know anything else aside from the fact that it was in Chelsea and the diner's name.

"Okay, I'll see you then," I replied, hoping to come off calm while I was internally more of a mess than I was before Kurt called.

"Great, see you soon," he replied before ending the call. I wasn't expecting Kurt to be all "how was your day?" or "did you miss me?" like he normally would, but his cool tone was different than anything I had ever experienced before.

Any sense of optimism I had went out the window and now I had half an hour and a long subway ride to think of how I would pull myself together in the aftermath of losing the man that could have been the love of my life.

...

I hadn't had a lot of time to make myself more presentable without running the risk of being late, so I showed up to the diner wearing the most comfortable outfit I could manage with slightly damp hair fresh from the shower and my face remained unshaved.

I opted to take a cab because I couldn't bear the thought of having to deal with the ins and outs of the subway while my mind wasn't clear, so I let the cab driver navigate the busy Manhattan streets while I tried to come up with what to say to my... boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?... when I finally saw him.

The cab crept to a stop outside of The Diner and I looked out the window for a moment before the cab driver looked at me expectantly from the driver's seat. I was excited and terrified all at once and my mind and my body almost couldn't agree on what to do.

Eventually my body won out and I paid the cab driver and stepped out of the cab. I saw my reflection in the diner's cloudy window and rubbed my face when I was encountered with a drowsy, disheveled version of myself peering back at me. I looked like shit and the shower hadn't helped, but there wasn't anything that I could do about it now.

I opened the door and the bells on the inside jingled to announce my presence. The Diner was nondescript – wood paneling on the walls with Formica tables lining wrapping around the griddles and matching tables placed along the windows. I scanned the tables and the bar and didn't see Kurt, so I plopped myself down at the first table I came in contact with and skulked into the bench.

As I was about to lean my head back and attempt to pull myself together before Kurt would arrive, a voice interrupted my action.

"What can I get you?" the waitress asked, pleasant smile on her face and expectant quirk on her brow.

"He'll have a black coffee," a voice said from over her shoulder. It was Kurt's voice – a voice I had come to love and fear in recent days.

"Cream or sugar?" the somewhat confused waitress asked as Kurt took his place in the seat across from me.

"No," he and I answered together and if I hadn't been so upset, I would have smiled at the way we seemed to just be in sync. But I wasn't thinking about that now – I was just trying to wait for Kurt to give me some sort of indication of where this – the conversation and potentially our relationship – was heading from his perspective.

"Anything for you?" the waitress asked, turning her attention to Kurt.

"Tea would be great," he replied as he removed his jacket and tucked it into the space next to him on the bench.

She nodded and shuffled away to get our drinks and I couldn't help but stare at Kurt. It probably was due to the fact that I hadn't seen him in days and had resorted to the images locked in my memory to remember Kurt's face, but he managed to become more attractive in the past four days. I highly doubted that my appearance matched his flawless one – that fact confirmed as I itched my chin only to be encountered with the patchy stubble that had resided there – but then again, that was just the way Kurt was; flawless, gorgeous and effortlessly...Kurt.

He awkwardly tugged at his sweater's neckline – a beautiful shade of blue that made his eyes pop more than ever before – and avoided eye contact as much as possible. By the time my eyes met his – I couldn't help that I had been staring at him since he made his presence known – they were as radiant as ever. This realization didn't help me much; he seemed to be doing fine in the aftermath of Ohio whereas I was a complete disaster.

"You look horrible," he noted as his gaze shifted over my form.

I shrugged. I didn't know how to respond. What could I say? 'Sorry, I've just been having an emotional meltdown because I'm in love with you and I don't know what's wrong' or 'I think I might be single again and it kills me?' Yeah, didn't think so.

The silence dragged out for a moment longer when the waitress returned to our table with our drinks. She took out her tablet to take our order before Kurt cut her off.

"You are the most irritating man I've ever met," he stated. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the waitress slowly back away from the table, as if understanding that this conversation was about to get awkward and potentially heated.

I sat there, silent. This statement was even harder to know how to reply to than the previous one.

But apparently, Kurt wasn't looking for me to respond since he kept on talking. "Over the past few months, you've made me feel so many things; silly, attractive, desired, cherished. And up until recently, you also made me feel respected – like you viewed our relationship as a true partnership; one where we could share everything with each other. And god, Blaine, I want to share everything with you."

Want, I thought to myself. Keeping things in the present tense has to be a good sign, right? But, wait. Up until recently? What did I do to make him question that?

"Kurt—"

"I'm not finished," he said, sharply cutting me off. "Up until recently, I thought that you valued our relationship – valued me. But now I'm not so sure." I raised a finger trying to interject but Kurt continued. "God, I never felt so unwanted and unappreciated as when I went to visit you in Westerville."

I continued to stare at him – eager for him to explain. So, it was something that happened when Kurt came to visit me. That eliminated a lot of the hypothetical things I thought I'd done to make Kurt react the way that he did.

"I need to understand something from you before I tell you something though," he said cautiously. "Why, when your parents answered the door, did they not know who I was?"

I took a deep breath before beginning. I had a feeling that Kurt was waiting to gauge what the next steps would be for him – well, forus– based on what I said. This could be really good... or really bad, depending on what I said.

But I felt that in order to Kurt to understand, he needed a little backstory. "Cooper and I are our parents' world. Even though they both have – or had, in the case of my mom – high-level careers, they were always parents first and professionals second."

"Is there a point—" Kurt interjected.

I willed my eyes to tell him that I had a point while not outright telling him to keep quiet until I was done explaining. I was treading lightly and I didn't want my one phrase to shut this conversation down and for Kurt to walk away. He nodded silently and urged me to continue with the flourish of his hand.

"And being the baby of the family, I've tended to... pull focus, so to speak. Since Cooper was an adult by the time I started middle school, my parents threw themselves into boosting my academic and extracurricular career. When it came time for high school, this trend continued and practically doubled once I was of dating age. My parents are great, but they've always watched over me like I'm their little bird leaving the nest. They're pretty... protective of me. And, in recent years, they've tried to be... overinvolved in my dating life."

Kurt let my words ruminate before asking, "So they're overprotective?"

"Not in the way you think," I replied, taking a tentative sip from my coffee. "They don't treat me as if I'm a fragile being, but they tend to latch on to my dating life a bit too much."

"I don't understand."

I sighed. "Here's an example. One time, maybe my second year of college, I told my mom about this guy who I thought was cute from my music theory class. It was an off-handed comment and I was pretty sure that the guy was straight, but my mom clung to the idea that this guy – who's name I didn't even remember – could be The One.

"Every time after I had a class with him, I'd get a text from her asking how the guy was and if I'd made any progress in asking him out. I dismissed it at first, but literallyevery timeI would talk to my mom, Music Theory Guy would come up. It practically broke her heart when I told her that he was straight – as confirmed by me seeing him make out with this busty blonde girl outside of our classroom one day – and she swore that the next guy would be The One. And then she proceeded to send me tips on how to pick up guys... that she pulled out of Cosmo. And even though Dad wasn't as blatant as my mom, he was just as bad with the jabs at Christmas dinners or alluding to the guys that would show up in the action movies we'd watch together."

Kurt chuckled lightly at my admission and a smile blossomed on my face. I still was leery about what was going on through his mind, but the laugh eased me a little bit. "That still doesn't explain much," Kurt said after his chuckle had faded slightly.

"Because my parents are so involved, I've been intentionally guarded about my life since I moved out, and exceedingly guarded about any romantic relationships in my life. Not that there have been many – there haven't," I admitted, realizing that Kurt and I hadn't really had a talk about our exes before. "But I just... didn't want to talk to my parents about any relationships until I knew where they were going."

"Because of how your mom was in high school?"

"Because of how my mom was, wellis, always," I agreed.

"But you never even mentioned me," he said quietly. "They didn't know my name, they didn't even know we were friends."

I still wasn't really clear about how my parents not knowing who he was had upset him enough to fly home early from Ohio, lock himself in his room, and not talk to me for four days. Rather than dwell too much on the fact that I didn't understand Kurt's logic, I reached out and grabbed for his hand – hoping to feel some sort of anchor through his touch.

"I just wanted to introduce you to my parents in person and I'd hoped to do that at the airport. Admitting that I had a male friend always opened up the possibility of questions from them. It's part of the reason why my closest friends have been female since I graduated from Dalton – girls don't raise questions from curious parents."

"So... you were just wanting to tell them later?" Kurt asked. His shy question came off as cute and incredibly doubtful. It was almost like he didn't believe what I was saying and was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I wanted to be sure, Kurt. I wanted to know that you felt about me the way I feel about you before I brought them into the picture at all because I was afraid that their insistence on being involved in my love life might scare you off. And I figured even though I wasn't sure about how you felt about me when we were in Ohio, I wanted them to at least meet you and understand a small portion of how much you mean to me when they met you at the airport. I mean, come on. You're fantastic and I'm just glad to have you as even a friend, much less a boyfriend, and I knew that they would appreciate that I had found a guy that made me as happy as you do," I rambled. I tended to get kind of... blurty when I was nervous. Andgod, was I nervous.

Kurt sat quietly as I rubbed my thumb over his unmoving hand. I had laid a lot out there and I still had no indication about what Kurt was thinking. Where I wore my emotions on my sleeve, I was realizing that Kurt did not. Well, at least not as much as I did.

"Thanks for telling me," he said. "There's something I need to tell you, now."

"Is everything okay?" I asked, fearing for the worst.

He nodded. "Yes. Well, it will be. I feel like I need to explain why I got upset. I admit, it took Santana talking to me about it to realize that I needed to talk to you about it and I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions – especially after what you just told me." I said nothing but ghosted over Kurt's hand gently, urging him to continue. "I've only had one boyfriend other than you. His name was William and we dated for nearly a year. Looking back, there are a lot of reasons that we should have broken up but only one mattered in the end. He wasn't out while we were dating."

I sat quietly, hoping Kurt would elaborate. He sighed, and then continued. "It wasn't so much that he wasn't out that bothered me. I understand that coming out is different for each person and you can't force someone out of the closet – it just isn't right and it's never something I would do. But William made me feel like I was his secret. He never told his friends about us; we only hung out with my friends or a handful of our mutual friends. The only time I met his parents is when they came over to visit once and William hadn't told them who I was. But, come to find out, he hadn't even told them that he was dating anyone, much less dating a man."

My eyes bugged at the realization, but Kurt persisted in sharing his story. "Him denying me and our relationship to his friends and his parents – who he claimed he was extremely close to – made me feel cheap and unwanted. It was in that moment that I felt like all our time together had been a lie and I was just some casual thing that he had while he picked a bride or something. It was awful and it made me..." he gasped for air, clearly struggling to get this out. "He made me feel worthless, like I'd never be good enough and I'd always be someone's secret. Because no one would be proud of me."

"Oh god, Kurt. I'm so—"

He held up his hand to silence me. "I know that you didn't mean to come off that way, but when I was standing in the foyer of your parents' house and they said they didn't know me, the whole situation from William came flooding back and I couldn't deal with it, Blaine. I couldn't think that you were likehim. And being in Westerville and having your parents talk to me like that just made me feel that way, even if if you hadn't meant for that to happen."

"God, I'm not I—"

"I know you're not and I know you didn't mean to," he said, silencing my protests. "At the time I was feeding off my past and my emotions got the best of me. And I'm sorry for leaving you hanging at the airport with no explanation – that was extremely rude of me."

"Kurt, if I'd known that had happened to you, I would have told my parents about you sooner or you and I could have at least talked about why I hadn't told them yet. I really did think that I was doing what's best just knowing how they are."

"I know you were," he admitted. "But I think that insecurity still lingered and in the moment, I couldn't stop it from coming through. I just can't feel like someone's secret again. I have to be with someone who cares about me and cares for me."

I pulled forward on his hand and brought it closer to me. "I care about you so much. So, so much, Kurt. I'm sorry if me not telling my parents made you feel – in any way – that I don't adore everything about you. Because I do. And if you question how I feel about you, I haven't done a good job as your boyfriend in telling you that. And I'll do everything I can to remedy it in the future." Kurt hadn't met my eyes in a little while, so my insecurities were starting to bubble up as well. "I mean, if there is a future. I'm not really sure what to do now that we've got it all out there."

"I don't want you to question how I feel about you. I might not express things the same way you do, but I don't want you to get the wrong impression," Kurt said. I frowned a bit. Did that mean that now that he said his piece and he said he needed to be with someone who cared about him that I wasn't the one who'd fit the bill? "What do you think I feel about you?" he asked.

"Well, I guess... I assume you care about me and like me at least a little—"

"Wrong," he noted.

I blanched. "Wrong?" I asked, a slight crack emitting from my voice as I realized that Kurt really might have let me go already.

He nodded. "Love," he stated.

"Love?" I was puzzled.

"Yes," he replied, eyes as clear as day with a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't justlikeyou, Blaine. I love you."

Any questions that I had about Kurt's feelings were gone. The man might not have been as forthcoming as I would have been, but god, hearing those words come from his lips were like rain after years in a drought.

I started tearing up, my body and my heart at conflict once again. I was brimming with emotions again, confusion, sheer joy, exhaustion, excitement; it was like I felt everything all at once. "Say it again," I insisted.

He smiled brighter. "I love you, Blaine."

"One more time."

He rolled his eyes, but that precious smile stuck on his face told me that he really wasn't too put out. "I love you."

I couldn't help but beam in reply. "God. I just... I love you, too. So much, Kurt." With that, I reached over the table and pulled him forward, table be damned. It dug into my hip and I was pretty sure I was holding Kurt's shoulders way too tight but I didn't care. Kurt loved me and I loved him. And that was enough.

I felt his dry lips on my cheek as a tear cascaded down my face. This wasn't exactly how I had planned to share this with Kurt, but for us it seemed perfect. It was unexpected and unprepared and random and...us.

"This is the happiest day in my life," I said, realizing the stark contrast in my mood from when I entered the diner maybe an hour ago.

"Hopefully, it's the first of many," Kurt replied as he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. I embraced the awkward angle that we were connected at and kissed him as passionately as I could muster. No tongue, no thrashing, no hurried hands grabbing for shirts or hair or waists; just two lips connecting smoothly yet fiercely, claiming their ownership over the other's.

Perfect. The kiss was perfect. Our feelings were perfect.Wewere perfect.

And, as Frank Sinatra said, I hoped the best was yet to come.

KURT

This is so not how I planned this conversation going. Hell, this was not how I envisioned mydaygoing.

Yet here I was, sharing an incredible kiss with my boyfriend in the middle of The Diner – the one Wes and I had eaten many meals and shared many stories of heartbreaks at – after admitting that we loved each other after a fight that threatened to end our relationship.

Forget soap operas, my life is pretty dramatic without the help of screenwriters. And we have way better kisses than any ones that network TV would allow anyway.

I pulled back from Blaine only to be greeted by the cheerful grin that had replaced the dull scowl he'd been wearing when I'd gotten to the restaurant.

I had managed to pull myself together a little bit before meeting up with Blaine – I had been planning on talking to him today anyway now that our crazy holiday schedule was over – so I had time to prepare. But poor Blaine hadn't and he looked it. When I first saw him, I had stationed myself on a bench on the other side of the street. The small park across the way had benches facing the street and I wanted to wait there to see if Blaine would actually show up before embarrassing myself if he was a no-show. When his cab pulled up, I watched as his sluggish figure barely managed to drag itself inside before sitting defeated into his seat.

At that moment, I knew that no matter how mad I had been at Blaine, no matter how hurt he'd made me feel, he was in pain and it hurt my heart to see him so broken.

I wanted to see what his side of the story was – just as Santana expected – before I jumped into any conclusions or forgave him or anything, but Santana was right. Not that I'd admit that to her...

But Blaine really was doing what he thought was right and he didn't know why I'd been so upset. Even though he hadn't known what was going through my head, I could tell he was remorseful. He hadn't the slightest idea what to apologize for, but he would have in a heartbeat if it meant that I would forgive him.

As he had told me about his mom and dad and their weird helicopter-parent ways, I realized that when Blaine had told me he loved me while under the influence of cough syrup, he had really meant it. That pure adoration and care he felt for me was clear – or that's how Santana worded it... well, that's how she would have worded it if she wasn't Santana and didn't joke about barfing rainbows or whatever.

Even though I hadn't planned on forgiving Blaine, and I especially hadn't thought about telling him I loved him, that didn't mean that I needed to keep that to myself any longer. This wonderful man, the one currently adhered to my lips, needed to know that he was cherished, attractive and – most importantly – loved. He made me feel all of those things and he needed to know that those same things were felt for him in return.

"Wow," I said as I pulled back from the kiss and went to sit down. Rather than sit in his own seat, Blaine scurried over and joined me on my side, causing me to laugh. "Seriously, Blaine? Are we same-side-sitters now? You know how much we judge people like that."

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. Normally I wouldn't be so keen on so much contact – especially if it involved sitting on the same side of a perfectly roomy booth – but I really didn't care that much in this instant. "I don't care, Kurt. I want to be close to the guy I love and the table was in the way."

I snorted. "Dork."

"But you love me," he countered.

I rolled my eyes but didn't disagree. It was true. "So, I have a proposition for you."

"You tell me you love meandyou're propositioning me! Wow, today has been quite the day!"

I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, causing him to feign injury. "Not like that, you perv. God, you're so in the Santana Zone right now. Anyway, speaking of Santana, she invited me to her New Year's Eve party at her apartment and I was kind of hoping you'd be my plus one."

He grinned. "So now I'm your plus one to a party?"

"Please, Blaine. I already know Santana invited you."

"Yeah, but I wasn't sure if I was going to go."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I wasn't sure if you'd want me there," he admitted.

I sighed. "I really am sorry I just stormed out, Blaine. I should have talked to you before jumping to conclusions."

He shook his head. "Don't be upset about it. I mean, I wish you had talked to me about it because it would have saved us both a lot of grief, but it all came out okay in the end, so I can't be too upset about it. And you shouldn't be either," he said, placing a soft kiss to my cheek.

I basked in his affections. "Okay."

"Okay," he agreed, kissing me again. "God I can't stop kissing you," he said as he added even more kisses to my cheek and face.

I giggled. "Blaine, stop it! You're causing a scene!"

"I can't help it," he said as he continued his assault on my face. I pushed his face away with my hand and he softly kissed the palm of my hand as it made contact with his lips. "Sowwy," he said, my hand muffling his voice.

"It's okay," I replied, dropping my head to his shoulder in order to keep some form of contact. In turn, he pulled me closer into him and I sighed with contentment at our posture.

"And to answer your question, I'd love to go with you to Santana's party."

"Good," I said. I pushed my head back so my nose brushed against his neck and he went to nuzzle his cheek onto mine. "That tickles," I said as I sat up, forcing Blaine's face away from mine. "Even though I like this scruff on you, it tickles way too much."

He chuckled. "Well, I only had half an hour to get here and I don't want to keep you waiting. I know how much youabhortardiness," he said as he accentuated the word with a fake British accent.

I rolled my eyes. "I appreciate your timeliness."

He smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to shave before tomorrow night."

"And what would you say about maybe meeting for dinner beforehand? You can come over to my place or something and we can exchange Christmas gifts."

Blaine stilled. "Right, uh, yeah. That'd be great." I looked over at him, but his face remained calm even though his response had me curious. "What time?"

"7 o'clock? Santana's party starts at 9 and that will give us plenty of time to exchange gifts and eat before heading over."

"Actually, why don't you meet at my place? Trying to get a cab or take the train will be a nightmare and it makes sense for you to already be in the neighborhood rather than fight the traffic surrounding Times Square."

That actually made a lot of sense. And even though Blaine had an obvious lack of kitchen supplies at his apartment, I could make due since Lord knows I wasn't going to let him take on the bulk of the cooking. "That sounds great. So, 7 at your place?"

He smiled. "It's a date."