It’s been a little under two weeks since the event with my father occurred. I’ve found myself thinking about it far more often than I would like to and it’s very difficult to shake the thoughts away. Despite what Blaine told me that night, I still can’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt. I don’t speak about it, though. I keep the thoughts and feelings locked away in the back of my mind, pushed into a corner where I hope they will eventually fade with time.

It’s Friday night when I’m standing in the kitchen preparing myself some dinner when I hear the front door slam shut and Quinn crying. Burt is in the next room watching the game and he immediately calls her name out asking if she’s alright. There’s no response as the sobbing continues. My heart sinks at the sound and I slowly move across the kitchen and peek into the living room to find Quinn with her face buried in her father’s chest. His arms are wrapped around her and he’s rubbing soothing, gentle circles on her back. I can see him whispering something to her, her head bowed as her shoulders shake.

I almost feel like I shouldn’t be watching. Like it’s some intimate moment reserved for a father and his child. But I can’t help myself. And I can’t help but feel this tiny twinge of jealousy. Burt is so incredibly understanding and loving. He accepts the fact that his little girl made a mistake and knows that she will eventually bounce back from it. He understands that teenagers do stupid things. Once a feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome in this room, I silently turn and walk back into the kitchen to finish preparing my meal. I quickly clean up any mess that I’ve made and retreat into the guest room that has become my room to eat my dinner there. I move my cell phone over to the nightstand. The line was finally cut off a week ago and I have no use for it unless I use it to listen to music or play a mindless game of Angry Birds.

I stay in my room for the next few hours watching the marathon of America’s Next Top Model. After a second episode, I finally decide to drag myself out of bed to place my plate into the dishwasher. On my way back to my room, I stop in front of Quinn’s door. I stare at it for a few seconds as I consider knocking. I know how moody she can get and don’t want to make her angry. She was obviously very upset when she got home and I don’t want to make it worse. But, I’m concerned and curious as to why she was crying earlier. With a sigh, I raise my hand and knock softly to find that the door has been left ajar. It creaks open a little and I can hear the sound of retching. I flinch, face twisting a little. These past few days, Quinn has been getting sick much more often than usual and it’s painful to hear her throwing up every morning before school.

After a few seconds and coughs later I hear the toilet flush. And then there’s a little groan. I decide to let myself in and peek into the bathroom as she rinses out her mouth.

“Hey,” I say softly. I don’t want to startle her. She must have heard me knocking because she barely responds to my presence just giving off another soft groan. I step aside, letting her walk out of the bathroom and over to her bed. I face her, watching as she crawls in and curls on to her side only staying that way for a moment before making a face and rolling onto her back.

“I don’t understand why they call it morning sickness,” she mutters pathetically, “I’m throwing up day and night.”

I give her a weak smile as I slowly make my way over to her bed and take a seat on the edge. “Do you need anything?”

“If you can make this baby come out that would be fantastic,” she says, voice a little hoarse.

I smile softly. “Sorry, I don’t think I can do that.” And then a silence falls between us that lasts for a minute until I speak again. “What happened today?” I ask softly.

She looks at me, eyes still puffy and red. I wonder how long she’s been crying. “Finn and I broke up,” she says.

“What?” I ask slowly.

“Puck told him everything,” she says, voice breaking at the last word. “And Finn dumped me. He said he couldn’t believe I would do something like that to him.” She lets out a gentle sob as she wipes at her face fiercely. “I can’t do this anymore,” she sobs. “I’m so tired of all of the drama and the boys and just--everything, God.” She covers her face, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“Does your dad know?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says weakly. “I told him everything when I told him I was pregnant.”

My heart stutters for a moment. There’s so much love in this house it’s almost too much for me to handle. I’m not used to this kind of understanding and this amount of--just--caring. Maybe Burt was a little disappointed in Quinn but he didn’t kick her out. He didn’t call her a whore or a disappointment because he loves her.

“That’s…that’s good,” I say slowly as I smile softly at her.

“Now everyone at school is gonna know,” she says with a watery, forced laugh. She then shakes her head as she starts to cry again. I immediately feel the need to wrap her up in a hug. And that’s exactly what I do. I don’t hesitate. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into me like she needs this support; to know that everything will be ok. That she will be ok.

This makes me realize that if Quinn will be ok then I can be too.

I stay in Quinn’s room a little longer than expected. We end up talking for a little while about the cheerios and laughing about Coach Sylvester’s teaching tactics. I don’t have a whole lot in common with Quinn. I know this, but I still manage to get along with her so well. I’m a little surprised when she suddenly pulls me into a tight hug and thanks me softly. I nod against her shoulder, smiling as I rub my hand against her back returning a gentle, “Of course.”

On my way to my room I run into Burt who stops me and asks if we could talk for a minute. After brief hesitation, I nod and he leads me out into the living room and sits me down. For a moment, I feel nervous. What does he want to talk about? Is he going to tell me that my welcome here is limited? That he can’t afford to have me around? That I need to find another place to stay? I breathe in slowly to calm myself as Burt takes a seat across from me.

“I just wanted to let you know that I meant what I said before,” he begins slowly. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

I can feel my shoulders relax and I want to sigh in relief. I let out the small breath I was holding through my nose as I nod slightly.

“What your parents did was wrong,” he said, voice firm yet somehow gentle at the same time. “You’re still their kid and they should love you not matter what. But…I’m not gonna get into that right now. I don’t mind giving you a place to place to stay and food to eat. But, if you’re anything like Quinn, I know you kids like going out on weekends to watch movies and stuff like that.”

I suddenly find myself cutting him off. “Oh no. Sir. I don’t need any extra money, really. You’re giving me enough--”

Burt raises a hand to stop me from talking and he smiles. “Let me finish, kid,” he says gently. “I own a mechanic shop and recently I had to let one of my guys who was moving away go. So I’m a little short on staff. You’re more than welcome to help out around the place after school and over the weekend for a bit of extra spending money.”

My stomach drops and my eyes go wide. I’m at loss for words because, really, Burt has done more than enough to help me and now he’s offering me a job. “I…That would be amazing,” I breathe. “I-I don’t really know much about cars, but I can learn, I promise. I’m a quick learner.”

Burt laughs. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. So, I take that as a yes, then?”

I nod quickly. “Yes--Of course.” I’m already thinking of new outfits I can buy at the mall once I get my first paycheck. I’m absolutely thrilled.

Burt offers me a warm smile as he stands and pats my shoulder. “I’ll let you know when I need you to come in. Welcome to the team, kid.” He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Now go on a get to bed, it’s late.”

I nod again, standing. “Thank you so much.”

o~o~o

“Kurt, that’s wonderful,” Blaine says through the phone the following afternoon. I’m beaming because I’ve just told him that Burt has offered me a job at the mechanic shop he owns. Honestly, it isn’t my thing, but I swallow that down because it’s a job and I need to make money somehow. I feel bad enough knowing that Burt Hummel is giving me a place to stay.

“I know,” I practically squeal into the receiver. “I already have a mall trip with Mercedes planned out.”

Blaine laughs and I simultaneously love and hate the way my heart still flutters at the sound. We spend the next few minutes finalizing our plans for the evening. We missed the Les Miserables performance two weeks ago and somehow, Blaine was able to switch the tickets for a showing of Madam Butterfly. I try to ignore the butterflies flapping around in my stomach when Blaine suggests dinner.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this was a date, Blaine,” I offer easily, despite the nerves twisting in my stomach at the very use of the word.

“Do you want it to be?” Blaine asks, voice soft. My eyes go wide because I was not expecting him to say that.

I remain silent for a few seconds and I can feel heat rising up to my cheeks. “Yeah,” I answer truthfully.

“Alright then,” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then a date it is.”

The moment we say our goodbyes and I’ve double checked I have definitely hung up, I collapse face first into my pillow and squeal into it.

Blaine and I are going on a date.

And said date is lovely. Perfect, actually. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest when I see Blaine for the first time that night. The only word that can be used to describe him is dapper. I’m used to seeing him in his Dalton uniform, but this black, trimmed blazer contrasting against the crisp white shirt and his black bow tie is absolutely breathtaking. When I open the door and see his smiling face I just want to leap forward and kiss him.

That feeling doesn’t go away when we arrive to the theater and he tells me to wait in the car so he can run around to my side and open the door for me. This time, I want to press him against the car and kiss him until I can’t breathe.

During the show, as the end draws near I suddenly feel Blaine’s hand clasp mine. My watery eyes move away from the stage and I blink away the tears to look at him. His attention is focused on the stage and he’s biting his lip. His cheek is stained with a single tear streak.

By the end of the show, we’re sniffing quietly, wiping at our eyes. As the lights slowly illuminate the theater we simultaneously look at one another, taking in each other’s red eyes and noses and we both let out a soft, watery laugh. When Blaine lets go of my hand to wipe as his eyes I almost whine at the loss because his hand is so very soft and incredibly warm.

When we pull into my driveway I don’t get out of the car. We stay within the warm confides of it, exchanging words, talking about the show we just saw and then somehow easing into a conversation about the new issue of Vogue magazine.

I tell him that even though I love performing and being a star, my true passion lies in fashion. I tell him that I want to leave this cow town and start life somewhere else. A place like New York or San Francisco. I tell him that nothing is going to stop me because there’s nothing for me left in this place and I silently wonder if there was ever something here for me to begin with.

I can’t help but notice this happy little glint in his eyes as Blaine watches me talk and I love the way he smiles at me. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me with so much admiration before and--especially after tonight--I wonder if Blaine feels the same way I feel about him.

I lean over to push at the seatbelt buckle, setting it free with a click and slowly raise my gaze to meet his. I smile softly as I speak. “Thank you for tonight,” I say. “You really didn’t have to buy me dinner.”

Blaine smiles that absolutely dazzling smile of his. “We agreed that this was a date, didn’t we?”

I nod silently. Before I can second guess myself, I’m leaning in and stopping inches away from Blaine’s face. Even in the darkness of the car I see his eyes flicker down to my mouth and then up to my eyes.

“I really want to kiss you,” I say rather dumbly.

“Then do it,” he urges softly.

I waste no time as I tilt my head to one side and close the space between our mouths. Blaine presses in a little closer and suddenly I feel his warm hand against my cheek. That only urges me to carefully part my lips, our mouths fitting perfectly together. Everything around me seems to slow and suddenly nothing outside of this car matters. The only thing I really care about right now is Blaine’s hand on my cheek and the way his soft lips feel against mine and I don’t ever want this moment to end. But it does when Blaine slowly pulls away just enough to break the kiss. I can feel his warm breath against my lips and that makes me want to kiss that beautiful mouth again. I open my eyes to see Blaine looking directly into my eyes and just from the look in those hazel eyes I can see that he’s smiling. Before I can come up with something to say, he’s closing the space between our mouths again and he kissing me, pushing his body closer to mine and using his other hand to brace himself on my seat as he leans forward. I wish we were outside of the car or inside Blaine’s room because this is kind of uncomfortable and sort of an awkward position. But that thought quickly leaves me because I’m too busy focusing on the fact that Blaine is actually kissing me.

When he breaks the kiss again and leans back into his seat to smile at me I sigh, leaning against the car door. “Well, that clears a lot of things up,” I breathe before laughing softly.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Blaine says quietly before laughing and ducking his head sheepishly.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I met you,” I confess.