CHAPTER SEVEN

MONDAY, OCTOBER 15

KURT

Oh man.

I had not been on a date in so long. Well, not a real, proper date. I think the last date I went on was when I was still in college and Lord knows that was too long ago for me to want to admit. I don't really think I'm old, but I think it's weird that the last time I went on a date, it was in the last decade and light colored denim was still in style.

Wes had spent most of the weekend rekindling his bromance with his friends from high school, but I was thankful for the reprieve. It gave me the weekend to focus on getting to know people at work, getting used to my new weekend routine, and thinking about my date with James today.

I wished that I still had my friends from high school here with me now to give me a pep talk about this date but the only female friend from high school I really kept up with was Mercedes and sometimes Rachel. But Rachel was busy in LA now, having abandoned Broadway for the silver screen a year after we graduated. But Mercedes was still my number one lady; she had recently moved to Chicago - which was so much closer than LA - and was working as a jazz singer. She joked that she was working her way back to New York so she could join me, but I knew that she loved Chicago more than she wanted to admit. Plus, it meant that she was a bit closer to Ohio and if there was one thing Mercedes loved most in this world, it was her family. And me, of course. But I was really missing her today.

James was going to meet me at the restaurant at 7pm, which surprised me since I figured he'd need to be at the office until late given that he said he was a bit of a work-a-holic, but I didn't want to overthink that. What I really needed to focus on was what I was going to wear.

In high school, I felt like my wardrobe should speak for me - it was loud, different, flamboyant, and sometimes over the top. I think back then I was looking for something to speak for me rather than me to use my words to speak for myself. I wanted people to be able to read me like a book - and they certainly did - but when I went to college and was surrounded by people who looked and dressed more like me, I realized that I wanted to use my life story and my words to speak for me rather than my clothes. My interest in fashion would never die, but long gone were the days of kilts, one-shoulder sweaters and long sweaters with tights. I was a bit more reserved, but prefered tailored suits and fitted button ups with slacks to my previous pieces. Though I still loved to add flair with my shoes, socks or even accessories - I could never abandon my collection of brooches if I tried.

It was nearly four and I had finally decided on a pair of black slacks with a light blue button up and a gray twill vest with black boots and my black pea coat. I secured my favorite brooch, a rhinoceros that I wore when I was in high school, to the pea coat. I had spent most of the morning readying myself with a shower, shave, and styling my hair, but I didn't want to put on the outfit until the last minute in case I spilled something on it.

Since I had a few hours to spare, I grabbed myself a cup of tea and read through some of my emails before being jostled from my routine by Wes' keys clanking in the door around 6:15 - early for my roommate.

"Lucy, I'm home!" he belted as he kicked off his shoes and placed them on the shoe rack by the front door. I rolled my eyes at him. He insisted on doing that every time I was home and it was irritating, yet endearing, and showed no signs of stopping any time soon.

"Hey Wes. You're lucky you weren't just saying that to an empty apartment, I'm going to head out soon," I said as I started heading toward my room.

"OOOOH - your daaaaaaaaaaate is toniiiiiiiiiiiight," he said in a girlish voice as he opened the refrigerator door.

"Whatever!" I yelled at him over my shoulder before picking up my clothes off the bed and starting to exchange my loungewear for my outfit for tonight.

"So, whatcha wearing?" he said as he stood in the doorway with a beer in his hand.

"WES! God, I'm changing in here. Can't I get some resemblance of privacy?" I shrieked.

"Kurt, we've known each other for years. I don't get why you still insist on having your 'privacy' when you're changing. It's not like I haven't seen what you've got going on before," he said with a shrug as he sipped on his beer.

I sighed. "I know, old habits die hard, I guess. Blame that one on high school PTSD from the locker room."

I knew Wes wouldn't know what that meant - Dalton was like a beacon of hope for me in high school and I don't even think they had locker rooms - but my family could never afford private school, so I was stuck at McKinley with all of the homophobes that Lima had to offer. I had some struggles in school, including a very confusing run-in with one of the jocks who bullied me then turned out to be gay, but it was all in the past now. But I still couldn't change in front of guys because I always assumed that they thought I'd be checking them out or something. Blame it on Lima, I guess. I thought it was kind of ironic that I helped people dress and undress for a living yet I couldn't bring myself to change in front of another guy - let alone my roommate of a few years.

"Just give me like 5 minutes and I'll give you a full fashion show, okay?" I said as I pulled my pants off the bed.

"Fine!" Wes huffed as he closed the door and walked away. I heard the couch's leather squeak from his weight, so I knew there would be no more intrusions from him and I'd be able to change in peace.

About four minutes later, I checked my reflection in the full-length mirror in my room and nodded approvingly at my ensemble. I could still bust it out every now and then.

I emerged from my room and found Wes staring at ESPN on our TV. I coughed to get his attention and his eyes shifted from the TV to my outfit. He smiled.

"Yup, that'll do," he said.

I laughed. "Well, since I have the approval of a straight guy, I can only hope that this gay guy I'm about to meet will like it too."

He grinned mischievously. "Yeah, I don't think you'll have a problem with him liking your outfit, Hummel. You look hot," he said as he drained the last of his beer.

"Thanks dear," I said as I swung on my coat, grabbed my keys and walked to the front door. "Don't wait up."

I shut the door behind me, hoping to not hear whatever sexual innuendo Wes was about to throw my way and headed down the stairs onto the street. James wanted us to meet at Cafeteria, a great restaurant not too far from where I lived. Rather than take the trains which would likely be congested due to the rush hour traffic, I decided to walk. I thought about putting in my headphones and blaring some music, but the hustle and bustle of the city calmed me as I walked over.

As I walked toward the restaurant, it struck me that I wasn't really that nervous about this date. I honestly couldn't remember the last time that I really was excited about a romantic interest in the first place. Perhaps it was because I was meeting this guy from online and I only knew about him the few things that he and I chatted about over the dating site's secure email over the weekend - which wasn't much - but I was still glad to be getting out there. At the very least, this guy was really attractive; that wasn't a bad thing. But it did worry me that I wasn't really nervous. I mean, shouldn't I be nervous or excited or something?

Oh well.

As I rounded the corner, I flicked on my phone to check the time - it was 6:59 on the dot. Thankfully, I was right on time.

As I stood across the street from Cafeteria, I noticed that James was already there. His picture really didn't do him justice. He looked like he could be Armie Hammer's twin; he had a thick head of blonde hair, chiseled jawline and a sharp, masculine nose. He was dressed in a navy suit with a camel coat over top and a white scarf casually thrown around his neck. The man knew how to dress - I could tell his suit was Ralph Lauren from the cut of the slacks that poked out from beneath his coat. I looked down at my wardrobe again and gulped - I knew I was a well-dressed man, but this guy definitely knew the difference between something you'd pick up at Barneys and something you'd find at TJ Maxx.

I took in a deep breath and moved across the street once the crosswalk signaled the all clear. As I stepped up onto the curb, I took in one last breath and stopped in front of James.

"James?" I asked as the man looked up from his phone and into my eyes. He immediately smiled and I immediately was blown away by the gorgeous grin on his face.

"You must be Kurt," he said with a slight Southern accent, extending a hand. I shook it tentatively; who introduces themselves to a date with a handshake?

"I am, it's so nice to meet you," I said genuinely. It was true. It was nice to meet him. It would also be nice to look at him while we had dinner.

God, what is wrong with me?

"Shall we go inside?" he asked. "I got a reservation so they're ready whenever we are."

I smiled and nodded as he led the way. He rushed ahead of me to grab the door, which immediately made me blush.

"Sorry," he said. "It's the Southern in me. I'm told to always open the door on a date."

I smiled meekly. God, is this guy from a fairytale or something? "I don't mind. It's... nice. Most New Yorkers would have just let the door slam in my face."

He laughed. "The one thing I don't understand about this city is its lack of manners," he stated. "Whenever my parents come up here, they're appalled at how people act here. They're just so used to the way it is down South that they just can't get used to it," he said.

He smiled at the waitress who was at the front of the restaurant and she practically swooned. I rolled my eyes.Oh please, honey, I thought to myself.He plays for the other team.

"Two for Monroe," he drawled. His accent just made the girl grin bigger and I was taken back by his accent again. It was certainly something I could get used to if he was going to talk like that all the time. Whoever decided that accents were hot was totally, 100% correct. The waitress flustered as she grabbed two menus and gestured toward the seating area. James waved for me to pass in front of him and I obliged as I slipped the coat off my shoulders before I felt a hand grabbing at its collar.

"Allow me," he said as he took my coat and placed it over his arm. As we approached the table, he gingerly placed the coat on the seat behind me as I sat down before removing his own coat and placing it on the back of his chair. With the dim lighting and the candles flickering on the table, I finally had the chance to look at James a bit closer. His jawline was definitely pronounced and he really did almost look like a fairytale prince. His eyes were a deep green which fit naturally with his blonde hair and tanned skin. If this was how all the boys in the South were made, I was clearly living in the wrong part of the country.

"So, Kurt, I got to know you a little bit online this weekend. Tell me more about yourself," he stated once our waiter took our drink orders.

From there, our conversation took off. He asked a lot of questions about me; what growing up in Ohio was like, how I decided on going to Parsons for college, how my career had landed me on Broadway, what stores I liked to shop in the most. He seemed to perk the most at some of the stores that I mentioned, suggesting that he shopped at a few of my regular haunts as well. By the time I had finished going on and on about myself, we had devoured appetizers, at least two rounds of drinks, and nearly finished our entrees. It felt like I'd been talking for ages.

"Enough about me" I said as I took a bite of my macaroni and cheese. It wasn't typically what I would order, but it's what the restaurant is known for and after eating it, I understood why. "How about you? What's it like growing up in the South."

"It's pretty great. It's really different than here," James said as he sipped on his red wine. "Sometimes I forget that New York and Alabama are in the same country - the people and environments are so different."

I chuckled. I could only imagine that growing up in Alabama had to be an even weirder experience than growing up in Ohio. "What was it like to be gay in Alabama? I know it was a struggle in Ohio."

The subject made James tense, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well... I...uh."

I held my hand up to stop him. "It's okay, I shouldn't have brought it... it's just," I sighed. "It was hard for me, I just wondered if it was the same for you," I said.

He took a deep breath, seemingly relieved that he didn't have to talk about it. "Yeah, I just... don't really want to talk about it, if that's okay." He paused and looked at me, worry gone from his eyes and replaced with an emotion I couldn't quite put my finger on. "I'm amazed at how open you seem to have been when you were growing up."

I blushed. "Thanks, I guess. It felt like I had to be at the time, but now I just... am who I am, you know?"

He sighed. "Sure thing."

We finished our dinners, chit chatting about things like our favorite movies (mine being Moulin Rouge, his being Inception), favorite stores (mine being Michael Kors, his was Billy Reid) and I learned more about his dog, Barley, and a little bit about his career on Wall Street. I still had no idea what he specifically did since it was all Greek to me, but I tried to listen as best as I could even though I was perplexed by his talks about stocks and bonds and 'favorable markets.' By the time dessert was mentioned, I declined since I couldn't imagine being able to eat more food and still be able to fit into my pants and he stealthily slipped the waitress his credit card to pay.

He signed the slip as I awkwardly thanked him for dinner. He looked up from signing the slip and grinned and I couldn't help but smile in return. How'd the guy get his teeth so white in the first place? "It's my pleasure, Kurt. You're really a great guy."

I blushed as I stood and pulled my coat on. "Thanks, James. You're not too bad yourself," I said as I lightly touched his forearm, testing the waters with a slight physical touch. As much as I loved being affirmed with words, there was something about physically touching someone that made me feel a connection with someone. I always maintained that holding hands was severely underrated and even if I was a grown man in his late-twenties; I couldn't get enough when a guy would hold my hand. It was like my relationship crack or something.

James tensed at first before taking one of his arms and drooping it over my shoulder. Since he had a few inches on me, my shoulder hit just at the crook of his arm and the sudden closeness brought a whiff of his cologne - Polo #2 - and the faintest smell of laundry detergent. In return, I put my arm at the small of his back and held it there loosely, not wanting to push us together since I still wasn't sure what he'd think of that. It was a first date after all. And since I hadn't done this in so long, I wasn't sure what was "normal" at this point anyway.

We stood outside of Cafeteria for a minute, side-by-side before he turned and faced me, releasing his hands from my shoulder but still standing close enough where I could feel the heat coming from his body.

"I really had a great time tonight, Kurt," James said.

"Me too," I replied. He leaned forward and gave me a hug, wrapping his arms around my shoulders again and I clasped my arms around his middle. He tightened for just a moment before pulling back. Once our faces encountered each other's again, he moved his hand and scrubbed his neck and sheepishly looked at the sidewalk, as if it was the most interesting thing he'd seen in ages.

"This is a somewhat odd coincidence, but we happened to get tickets for a client to your show on Wednesday night and I'll be accompanying them. I had no idea that it was for the show you worked at until you told me where you worked tonight, so please don't think I'm trying to stalk you or anything," he said, a slight uncertainty in his voice.

I giggled. "It's fine. If anything, it means you might see me again." I blushed. Dear God, did I just ask myself out on a second date with his guy? Smooth move, Kurt.

"Well, I was hoping for that anyway," he said with another winning smile. "I'll call you later to set up our next date, okay?"

"Sounds good to me," I replied.

He handed me his phone and I took it, understanding that he was asking for my number. I carefully typed my number in and handed it back to him. Upon reading my phone number in his phone, I saw a smile smile on his face as he turned back to me. "Thanks again Kurt," he said, going in for another hug. This one lasted a bit longer and I inhaled deeply, holding onto the overwhelmingly manly smell that radiated off of him. Before he pulled away, I felt his dry lips graze my cheek as he pressed a light kiss into it. I was stunned and my gaze met his as he backed away.

"Bye," he whispered before turning and walking down the street.

I stood, dazed for a minute before pushing the button at the crosswalk to head home. As I stood there, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I looked at the screen and opened the text that had just come in.

I can't wait to see you again, Kurt. -James

I smiled and placed the phone back in my pocket. The date had gone well; James was a gentleman, he was really attractive, was interested in me. It couldn't have gone much better.

So why did it feel like it still wasn't quite right?