To call the rehearsal 'nerve wracking' would have been an understatement, and Kurt could tell you exactly why. Sue was on the warpath since Kurt skipped out on a mega rehearsal for the big showstopper planned for the middle of the concert; he was dancing on eggshells to make it up to her. The pressure to review everything from the day previous and what Sue had scheduled only added to the fact Kurt was worried he had scared Blaine away somehow earlier that morning. And then Roz, Terri, Emma, and Carl (who had been waiting to switch places with Ken outside the dance studio), and the dancers all kept watching him like he was going to vanish in a cloud of smoke and dastardly laughter or something.

It was more intensity than Kurt had bargained for. Thankfully, as he left the studio with Carl in tow, his phone sounded again: a text message.

Coffee Mate [12:44pm]: Sorry about that. We got lost looking for the place we were meeting a friend, then Rachel dragged me to the theatre for tickets. We have them now.

Ohmigod [12:50pm]: he responds…finally. best get-out-of-choreo surprise yet—and you're texting normal, even.

Coffee Mate [12:51pm]: There's enough caffeine in my system to make an elephant's heart explode. On the upside, all systems are go, with no twitching on my part. It'll keep me going at least to the end of the show; after then I make no guarantees.

Ohmigod [12:54pm]: good luck and godspeed, young one.

Chicago was over, and Blaine was floored. He had known the show would be good; he'd made Wes and David watch it with him a couple of times, but he had been wary of seeing it live. It was definitely worth the near overdose of caffeine he'd taken to stay awake for the show.

He wanted to tell someone about it, but who? Rachel had just seen it with him and was talking animatedly to one of her dads about it. Wes was on some extensive vacation with his family, and David was volunteering with Habitat for Humanity in the middle of No-Cell-Reception-Land, Appalachia. Mike and Tina were off being counselors at their summer camp; Quinn was out of town, Blaine was pretty sure; Cooper he knew he could just tell the next time they had brunch. So there was only one person to text.

Coffee Mate [5:42pm]: so it was AMAZING.

Ohmigod [5:56pm]: I should hope so. It *was* a Broadway show.

Coffee Mate [6:00pm]: well, yeah. But still. I was worried.

Ohmigod [6:58pm]: you worry about the weirdest things…

Coffee Mate [7:00pm]: oh really?

Ohmigod [7:25pm]: yes, really.

Coffee Mate [7:26pm]: how so?

Coffee Mate [7:26pm]: *do* explain, o wizened one.

Ohmigod [7:30pm]: wizened?

Ohmigod [7:30pm]: excuse you.

Coffee Mate [7:31pm]: behold, it texts back! Figured that would catch your attention. Now explain.

Ohmigod [7:33pm]: *it*! and I'm technically at dinner at the moment—phones are ok.

Ohmigod [7:35pm]: and no.

Coffee Mate [7:36pm]: no?

Ohmigod [7:37pm]: I'm sorry what?

Ohmigod [7:37pm]: My 18 year old brain can't keep up with the conversation.

Ohmigod [7:38pm]: After you hit 17 on the pop star track, your brain starts turning into swiss cheese. i'm practically a goner.

Ohmigod [7:38pm]: maybe if I could put your face to the photo I keep in my wallet, I'd actually be able to recall what's going on…and doing it over a meal could only make it easier to remember…

Coffee Mate [7:42pm]: i

Blaine set his phone down after sending the message, feeling giddy. This was the most he and Kurt had texted inside an hour since they met--and Kurt was asking him out to eat for the second time in as many days. Maybe they would get to talk some more in person, rather than through scattered text messages whenever either of them had a spare moment.

It was frustrating, only texting a couple of times an hour. Blaine figured after about twenty minutes Kurt got busy, so he laid around the hostel, ignoring Rachel's constant requests that they get out and do something. He opted for a night of terrible reality TV before deciding to get ready for bed. He was in the middle of washing his face when his phone vibrated. Despite his mother's warnings about texting with chemicals on his face, Blaine opened the message.

Ohmigod [9:34pm]: sorry, off dinner. Forced trip to the gym with holly. You…?

Coffee Mate [9:36pm]: who's holly?

Ohmigod [10:01pm]: personal trainer. Now quit being distracted.

Ohmigod [10:02pm]: can you or can you not do food sometime soon? And somewhere decent this time.

Blaine tightened his already vise-like grip on the phone, trying carefully not to let it slip from his damp hands into the sink full of running water. He squinted through his eyelashes to look at the text. That couldn't possibly say what he thought it said. Absolutely not…

But Kurt had hinted at it earlier. Up there, in between the jokes about his age. So there was no mistaking this for what it was, right? A request for a lunch…a date? A something.

He blinked stupidly at his phone before hissing in acute pain from the soap that managed to sneak its way into his eyes. Blaine chucked the blackberry at the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor before throwing what had to be half the hostel's hot water into his face in an effort to both relieve the burning in his eyes and buy himself a little time.

Well, at least Blaine wasn't flustered because Kurt had kind of snapped at him; they had texted more after that whole event. And he definitely wasn't missing. Or lost in the sewers of the Upper East Side, although how he could have wound up there was beyond Kurt. Kurt should have been able to relax a little as they rolled through Manhattan, but he couldn't—Blaine hadn't responded after Kurt sent his text asking for a chance to talk with him again; now he, Santana, and Sebastian were on their way to the recording studio to polish some audio for the tour, a full fifteen hours after Kurt had asked. Dustin's recording studio was on the other side of the Island and quite a drive from the dance studio, but Kurt never usually minded. The traffic jams gave him time to think, or to talk with whoever was riding with him.

Days like this one should have been a special treat—he'd managed to convince Roz that her following in another car wouldn't cause catastrophic harm to come to his schedule (added ammunition for his argument came in the form of Carl, who had taken shotgun after he got Kurt situated in the back of the town car), and she'd left him with Santana and Sebastian. They were bickering over the top of Kurt, who had demanded he and Sebastian switch places as they hit Harlem, since Seb was threatening to tie Santana's hair to the 'Oh Shit' handle if she kept talking about his failed conquests the previous weekend.

"But the whole point of the show is that love is a complicated thing to find" Sebastian said as Kurt stuck his phone in his pocket, disappointed there was still no reply form Blaine.

"Yeah, that's exactly what the writers were going for, Killer." Santana snickered, rolling her eyes as he bristled at the name. "It wasn't an excuse to write soft core porn at all."

"What wasn't an excuse to write porn?" Kurt demanded.

"Queer as Folk." Santana answered. "Apparently Sebby here just finished it a couple nights ago."

"It's not all porn. There's plot, too. Epic romances, political issues, social commentary—"

"And lots of dicks going up asses." Santana leered at Sebastian, pulling a nail file out of her purse. "Can't forget the dicks."

"Why I bother arguing with you over porn you're not even interested in is beyond me." Sebastian said, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"So you admit it's porn." She sat up straighter in her seat, her trademark smirk firmly in place. Even her strokes with the Emory board seemed smug and self-assured. "Just because I'm not a fan of phalli around me anymore doesn't mean I can't appreciate when two go at it. I'm just saying don't say the show is more than that."

They'd argue the entire way to the studio if he couldn't get them to agree on something about the show. Kurt decided to mediate.

"Santana, have you actually seen it?"

"The first couple episodes."

"Okay then, can't Sebastian have a point, if you haven't seen the whole series like he has?"

"I mean, maybe…" Santana said, tucking the nail file back into her purse.

"And Seb, Santana also has a point; there is a lot of action being gotten, right?"

Sebastian nodded, looking moderately appeased. Santana huffed and shot a glance at Kurt.

"Dammit, Hummel. What the hell else are we supposed to talk about? There's still twenty minutes till we get there."

Kurt shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care. I just don't want to listen to you argue the finer points of porn before we have to get out and face Terri and Dustin."

Santana merely rolled her eyes before she turned to look out the window, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'fun-sucker'.

"I know what we can talk about," Sebastian turned to Kurt, what Kurt called his 'Meer Cat face' firmly in place. "Kurt's little jaunt into the big bad city yesterday."

"Yeah Kurt, what was that all about? You just go missing for an entire day?" Santana also turned to face Kurt, crossing her arms.

"An unscheduled personal day with kickoff at the end of the month?" Sebastian added, accusing Kurt of being irresponsible more than actually asking him a question. Kurt shrank down a little into his seat, hoping making himself seem smaller would lessen whatever lesson the two were going to try and give him before they had to leave the car.

"You'd better have gotten up to some good shit, is all we're saying." Santana said, giving him the once-over. Kurt hated when she ogled him like that, as if she were searching for something. She claimed that Kurt had 'virgin' written all over him, and she'd know when he turned in that particular card; when she inspected him with her critical eye, he could believe her.

"I didn't do anything like that San, good grief." She tsked in disappointment but kept watching him.

"Then what was the point of sneaking out?"

"You need to figure out there's more to life than sex, San," Sebastian grumbled.

Santana threw up a hand. "And you, Killer, need to figure out that just because you aren't getting any doesn't mean the world revolves around people painting rainbows and weaving baskets."

About halfway through Santana's comeback, Kurt's phone went off again. He reached for it, hoping to pull it out while Sebastian and Santana got into another squabble and ignored him, but no such luck. Sebastian grabbed his wrist as he pulled his phone into his lap.

"Would you stop distracting us? It seems that Kurtsie here was about to tune us out."

Santana plucked the phone out of the hand held fast by Sebastian. "You know, for once in your life, you may be right. And it looks like there was a person involved yesterday."

Kurt made an indignant squawk as Sebastian leaned into his lap to look at the screen Santana offered him.

"Who's Coffee Mate, Kurt? Your girlfriend?" Santana asked over her shoulder.

"Would you be quiet?" Kurt flushed, glancing nervously at Carl. He wasn't sure how much Terri had told him about Kurt's personal life; Kurt didn't want him overhearing anything if he was nothing knowing. Santana rolled her eyes again, but pulled Sebastian closer to the center so they could continue talking.

"Jesus 'Tana, can you not read? Blaine's a boy. It's not even spelled in a girly way."

"I didn't realize there were multiple ways to spell Blaine, Killer."

Sebastian tugged harshly on Santana's pony tail in retaliation for the nickname. "Of course there are. I met a b-l-a-y-n-e Blayne who gave great head a couple summers ago—"

Kurt took Santana's moment of disgusted side-eyeing Sebastian to lean in between them and take his phone back. "Do tell about your Blayne, Seb. Even though you just said there's more to life than sex." He said as checked his phone again. Wonder of wonders, Blaine finally replied:

Coffee Mate [01:34pm]: Sorry! Sorry. I didn't forget about you. I got an eyeful of bad stuff and Rachel attempted to drag me to the hospital to make sure I didn't go blind. I managed to leave my phone here; I just got it back…

Coffee Mate [1:35pm]: and yes, I can "do food" soon, as you so gracefully put it.

Coffee Mate [01:35pm]: can I just take a minute to say that the subways are even *more*terrifying during the lunch rush?

"No such luck. You're the one who went MIA and apparently met a friend. Plus I told you all about him before you got the record deal, remember?"

Kurt thought back to sophomore year, and tiny baby-faced him blushing as Sebastian went over the things his soul-mate-of-the-month had done with him while they were travelling the French countryside. Kurt had blushed; he hadn't known people were capable of those kinds of things. Kurt wasn't sure what bothered him more—the fact that his new friend had little to no filter, or the fact that he really, really, really wanted to try the kind of things this Blayne was reported of being able to do. Kurt remembered that Blayne. He was the reason Kurt started accepting the fact that he was gay.

"No, can't say that I do." Kurt lied, shooting a reply to Blaine while he answered Sebastian, hoping to whatever ruled the universe the car was dim enough his blush wouldn't be visible.

Ohmigod [1:40pm]: it's what I do. The subway did seem especially bad then. I'd recommend a taxi, but those can get expensive. Also, great. Lunch?

Santana watched as Kurt hit send; he had the sneaking suspicion that she had been reading over his shoulder, but the text was completely innocent.

"And you're an expert on the city now, big boy?" she asked.

"No." She arched her eyebrow at him, staring until he looked away, uncomfortable. But Sebastian was waiting on the other side.

"Then what did you learn about the city yesterday, Padawan?" Sebastian asked.

Santana snorted. "Did you really just make a Star Wars reference?"

"Lopez, if you don't get off my back I swear on whatever you manage to find holy you'll regret the day you met me."

Santana chuckled darkly. "Already do, Smythe."

"Kurt…" Sebastian made a grab for Kurt's hair, which he deflected before giving an annoyed sigh.

"Alright already! I didn't do anything special. Wandered Times Square, ran over Blaine, went to coffee, then I found food and a couple museums to look at. Regular stuff. Satisfied?" Kurt shrugged, sighing again. That was basically it. They didn't need to know about the late-night dinner trip with Blaine; Kurt wanted to keep at least some of his day to himself, since that was the whole point of the day.

"No. You ran over him?" Santana demanded. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"Didn't we teach you better than that?" Sebastian said.

Kurt scoffed. "He was backing out of a shop and I didn't see him. Coffee went everywhere..." and Kurt wound up on top of him, staring into startlingly complicated eyes. Wondering why he didn't cause an immediate fuss and wanting to learn more about him.

"What kind of idiot backs out of a shop in New York?" Sebastian snickered.

"Wrong question." Santana replied, reaching over to flick Sebastian's ear. "You should be asking what kind of idiot gets international fame, then runs away from the people who help get him there, meets some random-assed person, and then wanders the city alone without answering his phone, keeping everyone worried about him."

Around the time she started talking about meeting a random person, Santana had turned her fingernails to the nearest part of Kurt she could reach, harshly flicking at his earlobe every couple of words. Kurt squirmed, unable to get anywhere, wondering why the hell Carl hadn't looked into the backseat and tried to stop any of the abuse Kurt's so-called friends were heaping on him and each other.

Despite their crassness and overwhelming questions, Kurt knew they meant well. They were the first kids who reached out to him when he and Terri first arrived in New York. Well, Sebastian was the first, practically adopting the cocky underclassman with an eye for fashion trends and an unusual voice. Sebastian claimed his gay-dar managed to pick Kurt out when he was three hours outside New York's City limits, and he knew he had to protect the smaller gay from whatever he would get himself into; Kurt could almost guarantee Sebastian settled for friendship after his attempts at picking Kurt up failed miserably. Sebastian had barely shown Kurt the ropes before Santana came barreling onto Kurt's path, not as literally as Kurt had to Blaine, but demanding to know where he thought he got off taking her spot outside the corner bodega for performing after classes. She then proceeded to correct Kurt on his performance style before saying he actually had talent and demanding to be his first official groupie; she changed her self-appointed position to body guard after Sebastian wrapped Kurt possessively in his arms while saying he was Kurt's first groupie and Santana punched him in the solar plexus.

So they both had Kurt's best interests at heart, Kurt assumed. It just seemed hard to tell when they were too busy pretending that they hated each other.

It was painfully obvious every time Kurt did something screwy, which he should have remembered before he snuck out for a day of sightseeing. He was mentally kicking himself for forgetting about his friends—friends who were staring him down with more intensity than was probably necessary for the back of a Chrysler Town and Country.

Oh, right. Santana had asked him one of her roundabout questions.

"Me, okay? I thought we covered that? I'm an idiot, I've been successfully chewed out by you all and Terri; no more fun for Kurt, alright?"

They were satisfied enough with his answer to both retreat into their phones, starting what Kurt could only guess was a twitter argument from the way Santana would bark out a laugh and Sebastian would let out an annoyed huff.

Kurt gave them a few moments to get further immersed in technology before breaking out his own phone and sending a text of his own:

Ohmigod [1:45pm]: i'm assuming you're busy…i'm nearly to the studio. Is next wednesday ok?

Coffee Mate [1:46pm]: not busy; didn't know when worked for you. Wednesday, yeah. I can make that happen. Send me a time and i'll be wherever!

Kurt gave a tiny smile and resisted the urge to twitch his feet excitedly; revealing more than his first couple of teeth could alert the terrors on either side of him to the fact that he was thinking up another plan for meeting Blaine in the City of Dreams.