The next morning Kurt came downstairs to find his father in the kitchen, sitting with a box of donuts in front of him.

“Dad,” Kurt said, scolding.

Burt looked up and smiled at his son. “Hey,” he said defensively. “I woke up early and went to the gym. I figured I deserved some sort of reward.”

“Why not a low-fat reward?” Kurt asked as he headed to the already-brewing coffee maker.

“I’ve only had one of ‘em.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Put them away before that changes.”

Burt begrudgingly followed his son’s instructions, putting the box into the fridge. “Got any plans for today?” he asked Kurt.

“I haven’t got any plans for the next three weeks,” he said. “Besides relaxing.”

Burt smiled. “Good. Then you won’t mind going grocery shopping for us today.”

Kurt shot him a look. “I am a guest, Dad.”

“Hey, I raised you. The least you can do is buy some food for your stepmother and me.”

Kurt rolled his eyes as he poured coffee into a mug. “Fine. But not until this afternoon.”

“Great.” Burt clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll be watching football in the living room if you want to join me.”

Kurt shook his head, smiling. His dad still offered, every time.

Kurt walked down the produce aisle, staring at the handwritten list Carole had given him. She was planning on making a pasta dish that required a lot of vegetables. He had finally picked out a squash and was heading for the tomatoes when he saw a certain short figure with gelled curly hair that was already standing there.

“Okay,” Kurt said as he walked up. “This is just getting weird. Are you following me?”

Blaine turned around to see Kurt’s smirking face. He smiled slightly in surprise. “I could ask you the same question,” he responded.

Kurt shrugged. “I guess they mean when they say it’s a small world.”

“Well, it’s a small town, at least.”

“I’ll give you that,” Kurt said. “Plus, everyone needs groceries.”

“And coffee,” Blaine added. “So it’s really not very surprising at all.”

Kurt laughed. Blaine spoke up again. “So, did you ever get your car back?”

“Oh, yes, yesterday I did.”

“No permanent damage?”

“Oh, no,” Kurt said, waving his hand nonchalantly. “My dad’s a mechanic, so he got it running in no time.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t happen to work at Hummel Tires, does he?”

Kurt chuckled. “He owns it, actually. And now you know my last name. I think you’re the more likely candidate for stalker, here.”

Blaine shook his head, jokingly offended. “There aren’t many mechanics in the area. Small town, remember?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Well it’s only fair that now I get your last name too. For safety reasons.”

Blaine smiled. “Blaine Anderson.” He stuck out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Kurt shook his hand, impressed with the warm, firm grip. “Kurt Hummel. But you already knew that.”

Blaine grinned, and Kurt matched his smile. Then he turned to the pile of tomatoes in front of them. “Well, I don’t want to distract you from your shopping,” Kurt said.

Blaine laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I was standing here wondering how the hell to choose a tomato.”

“I can help you out, if you want.” Kurt offered. “I am somewhat of a tomato connoisseur.”

“Thank God. I need an expert.”

Kurt picked one up and rubbed the surface. “See, you want a tomato that’s glossy, and sort of shiny on the outside. This one won’t do- it’s too dull.” He set it back down. “You try.”

Blaine’s hand hovered carefully over the pile of red vegetables, finally picking one up and holding it up to the light. “What about this one?”

Kurt took it from him, their hands brushing momentarily. Kurt squeezed the tomato slightly. “Nope, this one is too soft. Overripe. It should be tender, give slightly to the touch, but not too much.”

Blaine looked at Kurt, a bemused expression on his face. “You really are a tomato expert.”

“I would never lie about such a thing,” Kurt said dramatically, putting his hand on his chest as though he were offended. Blaine laughed.

“Fine. How about…this one?” Blaine handed Kurt a tomato. Kurt examined it, and then handed it back.

“Perfect. How many do you need?”

Blaine shrugged. “Probably just two. It’s for salsa. My girlfriend and I are cooking Mexican food for dinner.”

With that simple reminder, Kurt felt a slight pang in his chest, remembering that all of this chatting, what he had perceived as flirting, was for naught. Blaine was not only taken, but also straight. Don’t forget that, Kurt told himself. “You should probably get three. Just in case.”

He and Blaine picked out the rest of their tomatoes and then walked to the cashiers together, both having completed their shopping. As they waited in line, they argued about the magazine stands next to the check-out counters.

“I’ve just never seen the appeal,” Blaine said. “Who cares about celebrities?”

Kurt laughed. “Clearly you’ve never had a celebrity crush. You just don’t know how to appreciate gossip.”

“But isn’t gossip inherently bad? These people’s lives are just…put on display for everyone. All of their secrets. That’s awful!”

Kurt shook his head. “No, no. It’s like…a particularly exciting TV show, but in real life. These people are crazy. As long as they’re earning millions of dollars, they might as well entertain us twenty-four-seven, right?”

Blaine sighed, still unconvinced. Kurt reached the front of the line and paid for his groceries, and then waited for Blaine. They exited the store together, heading into the parking lot.

“Well, I’m off this way,” Blaine said, pointing his thumb in the opposite direction. “It was nice seeing you, Kurt.”

“You too.”

Blaine turned and began to head off in the other direction. Kurt steeled himself. He wasn’t very good at this kind of thing. He never had been. He didn’t want to cross any lines or be too…forward, or anything. But he tried to think of the acting exercises he so often did at school. He tried to imagine himself embodying a character that was confident, unafraid, and wouldn’t let a single opportunity go.

“Blaine!” he called.

Blaine turned around, his face questioning.

Kurt walked forward to meet him. “Look,” he began, remembering the character he’d created in his mind. “I like you. I enjoy talking to you, and I’d really like to get to know you better. As fun as it is to randomly bump into you, it might be nice if we could hang out at a predetermined time, or something. Can I get your number?”

Kurt stopped. His character faltered, and he felt embarrassed and dumb. What was he doing, asking for a straight guy’s number?

“Sure,” Blaine replied, to Kurt’s surprise. “I agree, Kurt. I’d love to hang out while you’re here.”

So they exchanged phones, entering their numbers, and then handed them back to eachother.

“I’ll text you, or something,” Kurt said.

“Good. I look forward to it,” Blaine replied, and Kurt’s heart rebelliously jumped.

“Okay. Bye, Blaine.”

“Bye!”

They turned away then, walking to their respective cars. Kurt looked through his contacts as he walked through the parking lot.

Blaine NotAStalker Anderson was his most recent contact.

His damned heart sped up again, though Kurt firmly instructed it not to.