Still holding Blaine’s hand like a child would a safety blanket, I walked in to see him. His eyes fell to where we had clasped our fingers together and, on instinct and in an act of insecurity, I immediately let go. There was a baseball game on TV but the volume had been muted. Burt pressed record on the remote and turned it off.

"Carole’s not here tonight?" I asked with a tone I hoped sounded casual and friendly but probably sounded like I really felt—scared and worried.

“She had to stay back at the shop for stocktaking. Finn was there to help as Rachel was out with you so I came home.” There was a small pause. “Take a seat."

My legs were shaking and I felt myself sink into the couch. I was feeling rather dizzy now. Funny, almost being attacked by four Neanderthals hadn’t put me into shock but this would probably do the trick. Blaine sat down next to me, leaving an appropriate distance between us. Burt remained standing.

“What’s your name, son?”

His answer was immediate, “Blaine, sir. Blaine Cullen.”

I saw the regard in Burt’s eyes as he immediately recognized the name, “Cullen? Are you one of those doctor’s kids?”

“Yes, sir. Dr. William Cullen is my father.”

“And you’re—” Burt couldn’t finish the sentence. Instead he made some weird gestures with his hands that I understood to mean gay. Blaine seemed to understand what it meant as well.

“Hmm. Well, I am very interested in Kurt, yes, and I just want you to know that I would never force him to pursue something that he was unwilling to, especially if it made him uncomfortable. In fact, I believe this interest to be mutual and with your permission, I would like to date your son.”

As worried as I was of my father, I felt myself glow with happiness when Blaine said that and I couldn’t help but look at him. He eyes were still locked on Burt’s with respect, but for a few fleeting moments, I suddenly didn’t care what happened after this. Blaine wanted to be with me and that was all I could think about. The sound of Burt clearing his throat distracted me and I looked up as he turned his face in my direction, “I thought Brittany made you happy, Kurt.”

My eyes grew wide and I felt my face flush as I remembered the conversation we had shared about it. I couldn’t say anything. My brain just didn’t want to work. Blaine had given me strength but this was my dad. I heard Burt sigh.

“There was no Brittany, was there?” he said in a whisper, “It was always this Blaine kid, wasn’t it?”

I turned away. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I just couldn’t. Burt was a great guy but this was the hardest conversation we had ever had. I had thought so many times over about how I wanted to tell him and this scenario had not made the cut.

“Kurt, I can’t lie, you know. I gotta admit I’m a little disappointed that you couldn’t tell me the truth. If Blaine is who makes you happy, then, I’m all for it. I just want you to be happy. So yes, Blaine,” Burt kept his eyes on me, “I’ll allow you to see my son.”

We both nodded, but I was still in shock. And today had been such a long day. A full emotional rollercoaster. I could see the ups and downs of the ride I had just had, and my stomach was still swimming from the journey: Actually shopping—that was an up. Unjustly ridiculed—definite down. Blinding acceptance from my friends, up. Physically bullied, down, down, down. Heroically rescued, up, up, up. Dinner date, very high. First Kiss, REALLY HIGH. Coming out—well, that had gone straight down but the rollercoaster seemed to be riding steady now.

Burt’s composure appeared a bit more relaxed. “It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did you have fun?"

I looked up, confused. I mustn’t have heard him correctly and yet I was so sure that I had. “Wait—that’s it?”

“What is?”

“That’s all you’re gonna say?”

Burt looked as confused as I felt. He spoke very slowly, “What more did you want me to say?”

I opened and closed my mouth several times before it all just tumbled out like word vomit, “Dad, you just found out that I like boys, that I like Blaine, and you’re honestly okay with that?”

“Well—I’m not going to pretend that it’s not going to take some getting used to—but I’m willing to try. And I guess—I guess… it’s just been something that I’ve always known.”

“Wait… what?”

“Since you were three,” Burt admitted. “I may be dumb, Kurt. But I’m not stupid. Am I upset that you probably won’t want to take over Hummel’s Tire and Lube? Sure. But am I going to be the proudest father in the world when you’re on that same stage in New York you’ve always dreamed about? You can bet on the Red’s next homerun, I will be.”

My emotions got the better of me and I stood up and in two strides was in my dad’s arms. He broke apart first, rubbing my head and ruining my hair, “You’re okay to show Blaine out, right kiddo?”

Blaine stood up immediately, “Thank you for everything, sir. I’m sorry we had to first meet like this.”

Burt nodded and shook Blaine’s hand as he had offered it out to him. I desperately clung to his other one and led him to the front door.

From inside the living room, I could hear the TV was back on and that Burt had resumed watching his game. I turned to Blaine. “That was so, so, so close.”

Blaine smiled, a cheeky grin, “You never had anything to worry about,” he winked. “Goodnight, Kurt.” He had to go down to the next step to kiss me properly but kiss me he did. When our lips parted I was rewarded with his glorious smile. I watched him head back to the Volvo but the moment the car started I blinked and he was gone.

I returned to the living room and collapsed on the sofa beside Burt. He didn’t pause from his game but we started talking.

“So—how was shopping with Rachel?”

I raised an eyebrow. Were we seriously talking about this? I decided I was too out of it to care. "It was actually lots of fun." My head was spinning as thinking of it seemed so long ago after everything else that had happened. "They all found dresses. With my help, of course."

He paused, noticing my face, but turning back to his game almost immediately, "You all right? You look a bit—unusual."

My face had just been introduced to the amazing lips of Blaine’s, no wonder I looked different. How embarrassing. "I'm just t-tired. I did a lot of walking."

"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I was too busy worrying about what my face looked like.

"I'm just going to call Rachel first."

"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised. “Or did you and Blaine run off together?”

"Very funny, Dad. I need to call Rachel because I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow."

I went to the kitchen and still exhausted, fell into a chair. I was really feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all.

I might have had a good time with my friends but I had also been teased, bullied and almost bashed today. But then I had also rocked the hell out of an awesome pair of heels. And I had had my first kiss tonight. With someone I really liked. I did mention the emotional rollercoaster, right?

From within my jean pockets, I could feel my cell ringing loudly. I didn’t bother to check who it was as I answered the call.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Kurt?"

"Hey, Rachel, I was just going to call you."

"You made it home okay!" Her voice was relieved.

"Yes. I left my jacket in your car — could you bring it tomorrow?"

"Sure! But first, let’s get to the important stuff—tell me what happened!!" she demanded.

"Um, tomorrow — in Trig, okay? I’m just about to head off to bed."

She didn’t understand that I just had some thinking to do. "Oh, is your dad there?"

He was still in the living room but that excuse would do. "Um… yeah."

I knew I hadn’t sounded convincing but she must have not been paying attention. "Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. Bye!" I could hear the excitement in her voice.

"Bye, Rachel."

I let Burt know I was turning in and then made my way to my room. My mind still swirled dizzily, full of images I couldn't understand, and some I fought to repress. Nothing seemed clear at first but gradually a few certainties became evident.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Blaine was a vampire. Second, there was part of him that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

~.~

It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was sure last night was a dream. Logic wasn't on my side, or common sense. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined — like our first kiss, my first kiss. I was sure could never have dreamed that up that perfection on my own.

It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. He had no reason not to be in school today. I dressed in my heavy clothes, even styling my hair and then remembered I had his jacket. Further proof that my memory was real.

When I got downstairs, Burt was gone again — I was running later than I’d realized. As I realized too, that there was no time for breakfast, I started wishing there was a good coffee shop somewhere in Forks. I was also hoping the rain would hold off until I could find Rachel. Now that I was ready to brag about the awesome that was last night, I was actually rather excited to see her.

My phone started ringing in my satchel and seeing Blaine’s name across it I answered quickly, “Hey you.” I greeted, not bothering to hide the happiness in my voice.

“Hey. I have it on good authority that if you don’t ride in with me to school today, you will be late.”

I didn't see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling into my driveway.

“How did you know I was running late? I thought you couldn’t read my mind?”

He smiled getting out of the driver’s seat just to open the door to the passenger side of the car. “I can’t. Let’s just say I’m not the only one in my family who has… unusual talents.”

Before I could question him, he had abruptly distracted me, "So… did you want to ride with me today?" he asked, amused by my expression as he caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in his voice.

I diminished his insecurity in a flash, “Is that even a question?” As I stepped into the warm car, he noticed I was wearing his tan jacket.

“That looks good on you,” he complimented, “You should keep it.”

The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be possible, he was sitting next to me, starting the car.

“It is a lovely jacket,” I acknowledged, “Where did you get it?”

He didn’t miss a beat, “Italy.”

“I-Italy?” I stuttered, “I couldn’t possibly keep this!”

But Blaine shook his head. "It’s yours. I have several more just like it at home." I noticed that he wore no jacket himself, just a light gray knit V-neck shirt with long sleeves. Again, the fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body. “Don’t worry about me, like you know, I don’t quite need it.”

“I still don’t think I deserve this,” I admitted but I hugged the fabric closer to me, curious to see if the scent could possibly be as good as I remembered. It was better.

"Of course you do," he contradicted in a voice so low I wasn't sure if he meant for me to hear.

We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, still much too fast. I rode beside him lost in thought. Last night… he had admitted that we had been on a date, we had kissed in his car, he had asked my father permission to start seeing me and yet—I didn't know where we stood. It left me tongue-tied. I waited for him to speak.

He turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?"

"I do have one," I said, relieved to be able to say it. “Where do we go from here?”

"We turn right at the next traffic lights to get onto the main road.”

I raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“What do you mean?" He looked like he knew very well what I meant, but I couldn’t be sure.

I frowned. "Well after last night, I guess I’m just seeking some… clarity, about where we stand now."

"You desire a label?”

“In short, yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“That makes me wonder what you're really thinking."

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."

"You edit," he accused.

"Not very much."

"Enough to drive me insane."

"You’re going to think I’m crazy if you hear it," I mumbled, an almost whisper. As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. The pain in my voice was very faint; I could only hope he hadn't noticed it.

He reached for my hand, looking at me straight in the eyes but I couldn’t quite meet his. “I want to be your boyfriend, Kurt,” he said in one breath, soft and musical. “But I can’t understand why you’d want to be mine.”

I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off, “Let’s not get into this now.”

I was annoyed but I wondered if I had ruined the mood. His face was unreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to me belatedly.

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked — still more than glad to be alone with him, but remembering that his car was usually full.

"They took Quinn’s car." He shrugged as he parked next to a glossy red convertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Um, wow," I breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"You don't succeed." I laughed and shook my head as we got out of the car. I wasn't late anymore; his lunatic driving had gotten me to school in plenty of time. "So why did Quinn drive today if it's more conspicuous?"

"Because being this close with you, well, I'm breaking all the rules now." He met me at the front of the car, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus.

"Why do you have cars like that at all?" I wondered aloud. "If you’re looking for privacy?"

"An indulgence," he admitted with an impish smile. "We all like to drive fast."

"Figures," I muttered under my breath. I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch him, but I was afraid he wouldn't like me to. And then, he surprised me. He may not have been able to read my mind but he understood me well. “Come here,” he muttered casually and held me impossibly closer to him.

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Rachel was waiting, her eyes about to bug out of their sockets. Over her arm, she had my jacket.

"Hey, Rachel," I said when we were a few feet away. "Thanks for remembering." She handed me my jacket without speaking.

"Good morning, Rachel," Blaine said politely. It wasn't really his fault that his voice was so irresistible. Or what his eyes were capable of.

"Er… hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me a meaningful look and I smiled at her mischievously, suppressing myself from running after her and bragging to her right then and there. She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.

"What are you going to tell her?" Blaine murmured.

"The truth," I admitted, “I know you didn’t want to get into this but—I’m proud to be able to call you my boyfriend.”

His face was unreadable. "Just a heads up Kurt — she'll be waiting to ambush you in class." I pulled off his jacket and handed it to him, replacing it with my own.

“I’m keeping it,” I promised as he looked at me hurt, “It’s just I don’t want to forget my jacket again and I’d much rather wear the tan one to something more special than school.” He silently agreed with me as he folded it over his arm.

"So—exactly what are you going to tell her?"

"Everything," I said wickedly. "What does she want to know?"

He shook his head, grinning just as wickedly back at me. "Sorry Swan. That's not fair."

"No, what’s unfair is you not sharing what you know." He deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my first class.

"Fine. She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me," he finally said.

“What should I say?" I tried to keep my expression very innocent.

People were passing us on their way to class, probably staring; we appeared much too cozy for two guys, but I was barely aware of them.

"Hmmm." He paused to catch a stray lock of hair that had escaped from my fringe and wound it back into place. My heart spluttered hyperactively. "I suppose you could say yes to the first… if you don’t mind — it's easier than any other explanation."

"I don't mind," I said in a faint voice. “Her dads are gay, she’d probably understand why we’d want to keep it a secret. And as for her other question?”

"Well… I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself." One side of his mouth pulled up into my favorite uneven smile. I couldn't catch my breath soon enough to respond to that remark. He turned and walked away.

"I'll see you at lunch," he called over his shoulder. Three people walking in stopped to stare at me.

I hurried into class, flushed and irritated. He was such a cheater. Now I was actually worried about what I was going to say to Rachel come Trig. I sat in my usual seat, slamming my bag down in aggravation.

"Hey Kurt!" Finn said from the seat next to me. I looked up to see a friendly face. "How was Port Angeles? Rachel could not stop going on about that dress you helped her find. I owe you forever for getting me out of it. "

"It was…" There was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," I finished lamely. "Rachel got a really nice dress. And you’re right to thank me for it!"

He looked carefully around his shoulder to make sure Tina wasn’t listening in on us but she seemed to be too involved with Mike. "Um… did she say anything about Monday night?" he asked. I smiled at him.

"Well normally I would be sworn to secrecy but since we’re as good as brothers, I can tell you she had a really, really good time."

"She did?" he said eagerly.

"Most definitely."

“I can’t believe I wanted to try something with Brittany. Rachel is…”

“Annoying?”

“Well yes, but she’s also the most fantastic girl I know.”

“That’s sweet. Don’t let Mom hear you say that though.”

Finn suddenly froze and got excited all at the same time. “Dude you just called my mom—mom.”

With everything that had happened lately, I wasn’t surprised that I hadn’t realized I’d made the transition. “I suppose I did. It’s okay with you, right?”

“Well, yeah as long as… you keep giving me tips on Rachel.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Mr. Mason called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our papers.

~.~

English and then Government passed in a blur as I worried about how to explain things to Rachel and agonized over whether Blaine would really be listening to what I said through the medium of Rachel’s thoughts. How very inconvenient his little talent could be — when it wasn't saving my life.

The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky.

Blaine was right, of course. When I walked into Trig Rachel was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. I almost skipped as I went to sit by her, trying to not look so up myself.

"Tell me everything!" she commanded before I had even sat down.

And so I did. I told her that we had gone for dinner and then (and she had gasped so loud at this Mr. Varner had given her a death stare) I told her about the kiss.

“It was my first kiss,” I said gushing, “And it was absolutely fabulous.”

“Aww, you remind me of me—when I first kissed Finn.”

“Yeah but I bet your dads didn’t catch you doing it?”

“WHAT?”

“Miss Stanley!” Mr. Varner corrected—she had reacted that loud. “Disrupt my class again and I will have to separate you and Mr. Swan.”

“Sorry, sir.”

She waited until he had resumed writing more equations on the board before mumbling to me, “I’m sorry you had to come out to him like that. It must have been really awkward.”

“It wasn’t actually all that bad,” I mumbled back to her before telling her the story word by word of what had happened. She was a good listener when she wasn’t busy talking about herself. I was actually really starting to like our friendship.

"So when are you and Blaine going out again?"

"Umm, he offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks my truck isn’t up to it — does that count?"

She nodded immediately, “Yes! Of course it does!”

"Well, then, yes of course I am!"

"W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into three syllables. "I can’t believe he asked your dad’s permission. What a gentleman. Kurt—you’re going out with Blaine Cullen."

"I know," I agreed. "‘Wow’, doesn't even cover it”.

"Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic. "How many times has he kissed you?"

"I’m not sure,” I blushed, “I kinda lost count.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not. It’s been three times. Twice before my dad found out and then once when he was wishing me goodnight.”

“Aww. You make me want to adopt a puppy! What else did you guys talk about?”

Rachel and I had started a trend because everyone in the class seemed to be talking now. Mr. Varner had stopped caring two equations ago.

"Well," I whispered back. "He said he wanted to be my boyfriend. But he wasn’t sure why I’d want to be his.”

“Have you talked about it?”

“No, he said he didn’t really want to get into it.”

“Well—why do you want to be his boyfriend?”

I really hoped he was listening in on Rachel now. “Because he’s amazing. When I’m with him, I forget about the rest of the world. It’s like we’re the only two people in existence. I feel so safe, so unthreatened by anything when I’m with him. And, if anything, I can’t understand why he’d want to be with me.”

Take that Blaine, I thought, wishing for just one moment that he could hear me.

I smiled to myself as I spoke to Rachel, "You should have seen the waiter flirting with him at dinner — it was over the top. But he didn't even pay any attention to him at all." Let him make what he could of that.

"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was he cute?"

"Very — and probably nineteen or twenty."

"Even better. Blaine really must like you."

"I hope so. I mean he wouldn’t have just asked my dad permission solely to escape the awkwardness of having him seen us kiss, would he? And he says he wants to be my boyfriend but… he's always so cryptic," I threw in for his benefit, sighing.

"Well I’m happy for you," she breathed. “And don’t be worried. Everything seems to be so perfect.”

"I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around him," I admitted.

"Oh well. He is unbelievably gorgeous." Rachel shrugged, “If I was a guy, and I didn’t have Finn of course, I’d go there.”

"Disturbing to know but thank you. I think. I know Blaine seems intimidating but… he's even more unbelievable behind the face." The vampire who wanted to be good — who ran around saving people’s lives so he wouldn't be a monster… I stared toward the front of the room.

"So…” Rachel said, a large know-it-all expression on her face, “You have no choice now, Kurt. You have to finally admit you like him." She gave me a coy smile. She had only asked me about this a million times. And now she was finally getting the answer she wanted to hear.

"Well it’s not like you hadn’t caught on," I said curtly.

"That’s right, I knew it all along! You really like him. You like like him," she pressed.

"Yes," I said, now blushing. I hoped that detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.

"How much do you like him?"

"Too much," I whispered back. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how I can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.

Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Rachel for an answer.

She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I thought I’d be a good friend and talk about something I knew she’d love to go on about: herself.

"So in English,” I began, “Finn asked me if you said anything about Monday night.”

"You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.

"I told him you said you had a lot of fun — he looked pleased."

"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!" We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish on a minute description of Finn's facial expressions.

And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped Rachel off.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.

"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappear inconveniently again.

But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall —looking more like a poster boy than anyone had a right to — Blaine was waiting for me. Rachel took one look, winked at me, and departed.

"See you later, Kurt,” she smiled knowingly.

"Hello." His voice was amused and irritated at the same time. He had been listening, it was obvious.

"Hi." I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak — biding his time, I presumed — so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Blaine through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first day here; everyone stared.

He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though his eyes returned to my face every few seconds, his expression speculative. It seemed to me that he was more irritated than amused. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my jacket.

He stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.

"What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?" He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.

"Half is for me, of course." I raised one eyebrow.

He led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before. From the other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in amazement as we sat across from each other. Blaine seemed oblivious.

"Take whatever you want," he said, pushing the tray toward me.

"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my hands, "What would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"

"You're always curious." He grimaced, shaking his head. He glared at me, holding my eyes as he lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, and deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I watched eyes wide.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" he asked condescendingly.

I wrinkled my nose. "I did once…" I admitted. "Some kids shoved me to the ground back in middle school and I got a face full of it."

"Those kids were absolute idiots," he growled as something over my shoulder seemed to catch his attention.

"By the way, Rachel is analyzing everything I do — she'll break it down for you later." He pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Rachel brought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.

I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing he was about to start.

"So the waiter was cute, was he?" he asked casually.

"You really didn't notice? He was absolutely gorgeous."

"I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind."

"Poor guy." I could afford to be generous now.

"Something you said to Rachel… well, it bothers me." He refused to be distracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up from under his lashes with troubled eyes.

"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what they say about eavesdroppers," I reminded him.

"I warned you I would be listening."

"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."

"You did," he agreed, but his voice was still rough. "You aren’t precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking —everything. I just wish… that you wouldn't be thinking some things." I scowled.

"That's quite a distinction."

"But that's not really the point at the moment."

"Then what is?" We were inclined toward each other across the table now. We had already been holding each other’s hands without either of us realizing we had. I had to remind myself that we were in a crowded lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us. It was too easy to get wrapped up in our own private, tense little bubble.

"Do you really not understand why I’m interested in you?" he murmured, leaning closer to me as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.

I tried to remember how to exhale. There was a lot of silence and then I started rambling talking about nothing in particular before he cut me off.

"Kurt… Will you please answer my question?"

I looked down. "Yes."

"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really don’t know?"

"Yes, I really don’t know." I kept my eyes down on the table as the silence dragged on. I stubbornly refused to be the first to break it this time, fighting hard against the temptation to peek at his expression. Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. "Well, it certainly had nothing to do with the fact I was trying to make things less awkward for your dad." I glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle.

I shook my head in doubt, though my heart throbbed at his words. I wanted so badly to believe them.

“Tell me why you don’t believe me,” Blaine pressed. His liquid topaz eyes were penetrating —trying futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight from my mind. I stared back, struggling to think clearly in spite of his face, to find some way to explain. As I searched for the words, I could see him getting impatient; frustrated by my silence, he started to scowl. I lifted my hands from his, and held up one finger.

"Let me think," I insisted. His expression cleared, now that he was satisfied that I was planning to answer. I dropped my hands to the table, moving my left hand so that my palms were pressed together. I stared at my hands, twisting and untwisting my fingers, as I finally spoke.

"Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes…" I hesitated. "I can't be sure— I don't know how to read minds — but sometimes it seems like you’re trying to convince me to say goodbye, just to see if I would, just to see how far you can push me before I’ll let go." That was the best way I could sum up the sensation of anguish that his words triggered in me at times.

"Perceptive," he whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as he confirmed my fear. "I hardly see how that means you don’t know how I could feel the way I do," he began to explain, but then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean when you said, 'the obvious'?"

"Well, look at me," I said, unnecessarily as he was already staring. “I mean I know I’m not the least attractive guy at this school but with all my usual attire packed away I’m absolutely ordinary. And look at you." I waved my hand toward him and all his bewildering perfection.

His brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his eyes took on a knowing look. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I’ll admit your lack of everyday clothes is probably a loss," he chuckled, "but you know, we’re not the only two gay guys in this school. You didn't get to hear what some of the males in this school were thinking on your first day."

I blinked, astonished. "I don't believe it…" I mumbled to myself.

"Trust me just this once — you are the opposite of ordinary. You’re the single most interesting kid in all of Washington." My embarrassment was much stronger than my pleasure at the look that came into his eyes when he said this. I quickly reminded him of my original argument.

"But I'm not saying goodbye," I pointed out.

"Look Kurt,”— he shook his head, seeming to struggle with the thought —"if leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe. That in itself proves how much I care for you because even if I had to leave you to do it, I would."

I didn't want him to talk about goodbyes anymore. If I had to, I supposed I could purposefully put myself in danger to keep him close… I banished that thought before his quick eyes read it on my face. That idea would definitely get me in trouble.

"I have another question for you." He asked; his face was still casual.

"Shoot."

"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of dancing at a girl’s choice dance?"

I made a face. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the Brittany thing yet," I warned him. "It's your fault that she deluded herself into thinking I was going to prom with her. Thank goodness for Satan."

“Who?”

“Oh! I meant Santana Clearwater.”

"Yeah, well Brittany is just an innocent lost little lamb. I just really wish you could have seen your face when she asked you!" he chuckled. I would have been angrier if his laughter wasn't so fascinating.

Then he seemed to get a little more serious. "So…If I had asked you, would you have turned me down?" He was still laughing to himself.

"Probably not," I admitted. "But I would have canceled later — faked a sprained ankle from over wearing heels, a plausible scenario."

He was puzzled. "Why would you do that?"

I shook my head sadly. "It’s a girl’s choice dance, Blaine. Going with another guy—would just make a scene. I only just came out to my friends, to my dad. The last thing I want to do is attract unnescessary attention to myself."

"See now you’re doing that editing thing that drives me insane."

"Sorry?"

"You’re lying to me. You do want the attention. You want to be noticed. You’re the kind of guy who wants to make it really big someday and the only way that can happen is if people start noticing you now. There’s a hidden confidence about you that’s just dying to come out. You have no problem with who you are." He could see that I was about to protest, and he cut me off. “You range is admirable; you can hit notes most people would dream about and Julliard would kill to have you study there." He was very confident.

"But you’re so worried about being ridiculed for being who you are, so worried about how people will react when they find out you’re gay, so worried that you’ll be disadvantaged from opportunities because you’re not blending in hard enough… Kurt—why do you try so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?”

It was a rhetorical question, I knew it, but it still wasn’t my turn to speak. I could tell he wasn’t finished just yet. “Look at my life, Kurt. I’m bound to remain inconspicuous for all eternity because of what I am. You have a choice. You don’t have to be bound like that. If you really want to be my boyfriend, I’m condemning that same life on you, which is why I can’t understand why you would want to be my boyfriend at all. And I do, really care about you. I don’t want to stuff this up.” He looked really annoyed, like he was fighting an inner battle with his thoughts. His hand was holding mine so tightly it worried me with how scared he was.

"As much as I’d love to talk all things New York and Julliard—let's talk about something else," I suggested.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked. He was still annoyed.

I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Mercedes, staring at me. The others were looking at Blaine. I looked away swiftly, back to him and I asked the first thing that came to mind.

"So if eating pizza is the equivalent of eating dirt, what do you like to eat? Burt said Goat Rocks wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."

He stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.

"Bears?" I gasped, and he smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," I added sternly, to hide my shock.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he informed me.

He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.

"Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.

"Grizzly is Puck’s favorite." His voice was still offhand, but his eyes were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.

"Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.

"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze. "What's your favorite?"

He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval. "Mountain lion."

"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.

"Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored mine, "we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but where’s the fun in that?" He smiled teasingly.

"Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of pizza.

"Early spring is Puck’s favorite bear season — they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable." He smiled at some remembered joke.

"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.

He snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," I admitted. "How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"

"Oh, we have weapons." He flashed his bright teeth in a brief, threatening smile. I fought back a shiver before it could expose me.

"Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you’ve ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Puck hunting."

I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked across the cafeteria toward Puck, grateful that he wasn't looking my way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now.

Blaine followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at him, unnerved.

"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhaps our preferences are indicative."

I tried to smile. "Perhaps," I repeated. But my mind was filled with opposing images that I couldn't merge together. "Is that something I might get to see?"

I could tell this was something he didn’t want to talk about because he abruptly changed the topic.

"What—too scary for me?" I asked.

He sighed, “Are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something different?"

“As long as the "we" part was in, I don't care about anything else,” I allowed. "But I do have a favor to ask." He looked wary, as he always did when I asked an open-ended question.

"What?"

"Can I drive?"

He frowned. "Why?"

"Well, mostly because when I told Burt I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, because your driving qualifies you as a maniac."

He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving." He shook his head in disgust, but then his eyes were serious again. "Won't you want to tell your father that you’re spending the day with me? He had no problems with us going out."

"I probably will tell him." Except I was definite that I would. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye…"

“Are you going to show me what you meant—about the sun?" I asked, excited by the idea of unraveling another of the unknowns.

"Yes." He smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be… alone with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."

I was miffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle — just in population. Physicality is a whole other story. But, as it happens, I don't mind being alone with you."

"I know," he sighed, brooding. "Make sure you tell Burt though."

“I’ve already told you that I will."

His eyes were suddenly playful. "It’ll give me some small incentive to bring you back."

I gulped. But, after a moment of thought, I was sure. "I think I'll take my chances."