The first time Blaine had ever spoken to me came as a great shock to us both, I thought. I had been quietly working on my homework when suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and came face to face with Blaine Anderson. I was flailing on the inside.

“Can I borrow your pencil sharpener?” He asked, and looked up at me through those beautiful hazel eyes. I was sure I must have stopped breathing. Sure, I had admired Blaine’s stunning good looks from afar, but to actually be face to face with him and all his beauty was breathtaking.

When my brain finally decided to let me function again, I nodded and passed Blaine the sharpener with shaking hands. I turned back to my desk when Blaine had walked away, and tried to control my breathing. Did that really just happen? Did Blaine really just speak to me? And why did he ask me for a sharpener, when he could have easily asked any of his friends around him? I must be dreaming.

I was snapped back to reality, however, when the sharpener suddenly flew past my arm and onto the desk, where it bounced from the desk and onto the floor. I frowned. Did Blaine just return my sharpener by throwing it at me? I turned to the person in question, at a loss for how to react. What the hell had just happened, anyways?

“You’re welcome?” I finally said, before quickly turning around and getting up to retrieve the sharpener, before Blaine could respond.

By the time I had returned to my desk, Blaine had already turned around and was chatting with Puck about one thing or another. I couldn’t help but huff angrily. Was I going to sit in silence for the rest of the year unless Blaine wanted something? I certainly hope not. But for the meantime, I decided to focus on the math work. It wasn’t going to do itself.

The next time Blaine spoke to me, I was caught completely off guard. I was already done the homework and was just doodling on the pages of my notebook, when I heard someone call my name.

“Hey, Kurt! Do you mind if I borrow your calculator?” the question came from Puck. I gave a short nod, and passed over said calculator.

When you thought about it, Puck wasn’t really a bad guy. Sure he was one of the football jocks, but he didn’t let that status get to his head like most did, and was pretty cool when it came to being friends with people. He and Mike had joined Glee Club back when Finn had, and it had been because he wanted to; his own decision. People thought that he was stupid because he was always one of the last ones to finish his tests, but that wasn’t true. I had watched him, and he actually made sure to go through each question and answer it correctly. Puck wasn’t the big idiot everyone expected him to be, because he actually cared about school. While we didn’t talk much, I definitely respected Puck. I could say that we might actually be friends.

Suddenly, another voice disturbed my thoughts.

“You mind if I borrow that after he’s done?” Blaine asked, motioning to the calculator Puck was tapping away on. Before I really knew what I was doing, I responded.

“Sure, as long as you don’t throw it at me when you’re finished,” I retorted, and then froze. Oh god, did I seriously just said that?! But before I could open my mouth to apologize or say something else really stupid, Blaine opened his mouth and began to laugh.

“Alright, I’ll try my best,” he chuckled, and returned to his work.

I sat in my seat, dumbfounded. Blaine and I had spoken. I had made Blaine Anderson laugh. I tried to hide the stupid grin on his face, and was mostly successful. When the calculator was placed gently on my desk at the end of class, it took everything I had not to smile like an idiot.

Maybe the shy, stuttering boy was gone. Maybe this was the beginning of something new.

I walked into math class cradling my right hand and a bag of ice, cursing my clumsiness under my breath.

I had been running up the (thankfully) deserted stairwell to English class a few minutes after the bell had rang, and had tripped over my own feet in my haste to not be any later than I already was. I had thrown out my hands to brace my fall, and had cried out in pain when the fingers of my right hand met the cement stairs with great force, great enough to sprain. I swore, trying to gather up my things with my non-dominant hand while trying to ignore the painful throbbing coming from my index, middle and ring fingers. I lifted my hand up and tried to bend my fingers, and swore again when I found I couldn’t. English would have to wait.

A trip to the nurse, some gauze around my fingers, ice to help the swelling and two periods later, and my fingers were still throbbing mercilessly. The bag of ice had melted by now, but I decided that cold water was better than nothing.

The sudden scrape of a chair being pulled out from under a desk startled me, and without looking, I already knew that Blaine Anderson had arrived to class and was seated. There was silence between us for a good twenty minutes or so, before a question was finally asked:

“Why is there a bag of water on your hand?”

I turned to look at Blaine, who was giving the bag a weird look. I flushed, realizing how stupid I must have looked with it just sitting there. I cleared my throat before responding.

“It – it’s melted…melted ice,” I stuttered, and then turned back to the front of the class.

Damn it! I swore internally, already angry with myself. Of course you had to stutter; of course you’d be this nervous. You were foolish for thinking that things would be different between you two. What were you thinking?!

The inner battle waged for the better part of an hour, before I finally gave up and decided to move on and forget the stupid incident. When the bell rang and I got up from my seat, I picked up the stupid bag of water, and threw it into the trash on his way out of the classroom. No need to embarrass myself further in any other class.

One week after the whole bag incident, Blaine spoke to me again.

Mr. Walker had handed out a sheet to be completed for homework, using the ‘take one, pass it down’ method to get the sheets around class. I had been doodling on my notebook when the sheet had landed on my desk. I looked over at the sender, realising it to be Blaine. Before I could open my mouth to thank him, Blaine was already speaking.

“You’re welcome,” he said, giving me a mock offended look for not saying thank you yet.

“Thank you,” I responded, not really knowing what else to say.

“Did I ask you?” Blaine bit back, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

“O…kay?” I replied again, completely bewildered. What the hell was he playing at?

Blaine turned to Puck and started laughing. “I think he hates me,” he said with a laugh, loud enough for my ears, but quiet enough so that the rest of the class wouldn’t hear.

Only half the time honey, when you don’t bother to acknowledge my very existence, my inner sarcasm sniped. What the hell did that whole exchange even mean? Was Blaine trying to lighten the mood or something? Because it really wasn’t working. Maybe if he wasn’t so rude to me…or so damn attractive that it impaired my speech…then maybe…maybe we could be friends.

But then again…in what world would Blaine ever want to be friends with me?

I was at home lying on my bed, thinking. I had to somehow get over this stupid fear of talking to Blaine freely, not just when I was approached by him. I couldn’t sit quietly in my desk forever. But how could I talk to Blaine without it being too sudden, without scaring Blaine off? Suddenly, I got an idea. Not the most brilliant idea, but I would take it. I picked up my cell phone, and called Mercedes.

“Mercedes? I think I finally have an idea that might help me talk to Blaine without being nervous.”

“Oh boy, this had better be good,” she chuckled.

“Alright, here’s how it’s gonna go…”