I, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, hated math class.

It wasn't because my teacher lacked proper teaching skills or because the class was constantly talking (although both were, unfortunately, very true). It was because at the beginning of the year, my teacher had drawn up a seating plan that required me to sit next to Blaine Anderson, McKinley High School’s resident bad boy.

In my sophomore year, nearly everyone had been raving about Blaine Anderson. He seemed to have gone from shy freshman to sexy sophomore in a heartbeat. His motorcycle, leather jacket, dark curls and hazel eyes; Blaine was turning heads as he walked down the hallway. I couldn't help but admit that I found the boy breathtakingly gorgeous, but could never pluck up enough courage to talk to him. And how could I? I was a closeted gay, and was very shy when it came to meeting new people. Not to mention the fact that there was absolutely no chance that Blaine would ever take the slightest of interests in me. I ruled out all the possibilities that Blaine could actually be gay, what with all the girls he constantly hung around with (especially that cheerleader, Santana). What would a guy like that ever want with a guy like me?

Fast forward to my junior year. I'm was out of the closet and much more open about who I was, but still had not spoken a single word to Blaine, and I didn’t really plan to. In my own group of friends, I was very brave and outgoing, but put me in front of Blaine Anderson and you were left with a shy, stuttering mess of a teenage boy.

So when I had first walked into math class planning to sit with Mercedes, I found that I would be very disappointed (and a little bit terrified) when I was moved to sit next to Blaine Anderson, the boy who I had admired from afar for so long.

I remembered walking over to his seat, mentally grimacing at the amount of jocks he was forced to sit around. I really hoped none of them would throw anything at my head.

I remembered awkwardly sitting down in my seat, not really knowing what to do with my hands, and settled for folding them in his lap. I didn't allow myself to steal any glances at the boy sitting next to me, for fear of being caught. I had an internal battle, playing with the idea of speaking to Blaine or not. The battle waged for a good fifteen minutes, before my irrational fear of speaking won out and I decided to keep my mouth shut. Not a word was spoken from either of us that day.

Or for several days after that, actually. It had been six weeks since school had first started.

I didn't trust myself to speak to the boy. Not one bit. I knew if I did, I'd either stutter and say something really stupid, or begin to ramble about something really stupid. Either way, it wasn't looking good for me.

So for the entire period, I kept my head down, and quietly puzzled over the questions in my math book, while Blaine interacted with about fifty other people around him, laughing and talking loudly. Every day, I prayed for the clock to tick just a little bit faster to end the period, because sitting next to Blaine was about as comfortable as sitting on a porcupine.

When the bell finally did ring, I got up from his seat and clumsily picked up my books before rushing over to where Mercedes was exiting the classroom, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders fade away instantly.

“Another quiet day?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not a single word was spoken. It is absolute torture Mercedes. I’m surrounded by Neanderthals, and a guy who won’t talk to me, much less even look my way. And to make matters worse, all of the tolerable people in the class sit on the other side of the room. I think Mr. Walker is trying to kill me,” I declared with finality, as I walked through the hall with my best friend.

“That’s nonsense, boy. Mr. Walker probably thinks you’re capable enough to handle Blaine,” she reasoned.

“Yeah, well he thinks wrong,” I grumbled back. I stopped at my locker. “I’ll see you in Glee Club, yeah?”

“You got it white boy,” she responded, and with a parting smile she was gone.

As I put his books back into my locker, I sighed to myself. Why are you thinking so much about Blaine Anderson?  My conscience asked. It’s not like you like him. You don’t even know him! He just happens to be a very, very attractive male who sits next to you in math class, that’s all.

A sudden shriek of laughter behind me pulled me out of my thoughts. It was Santana and her best friend Blaine walking by, of course. Santana was cackling at something that Blaine had said, while Blaine just had this sexy smirk playing on his lips. Sights like that made my heart beat faster and my pulse stutter a little in my veins. Why did Blaine always have to look so damn sexy?

Santana on the other hand, I was not too fond of. The whole school knew her as a slut, which was a pretty accurate label, if you count off all of the guys she’s slept with. Santana herself seemed to know, and was pretty damn proud of it too. What was it about her that intrigued Blaine enough for a friendship to form? Whatever it was, I wanted some of it.

With a withering look to the girl and a longing look to the boy, I began to walk to my next period class with a sigh.

He’ll never look at you the way you look at him. The only reason he even knows your name is because of a stupid seating arrangement.

I sighed again.

I really hated math class.