But Blaine had quit his job—okay he was fired—and without a steady income, he would not be able to afford his 3rd floor walk-up above The Chinese Express, or any other place in the city for that matter. And playing Wednesday nights at Lena’s only brought in enough income to feed his coffee addiction.

One of these days, though, Blaine was gonna get discovered. A scout was actually going to come to Lena’s—like she promised—on a Wednesday night, and Blaine would serenade the shit out of him or her, and he would get signed immediately. And pretty soon, his songs would debut at #1 on Billboard and he would win Grammys and he would be rolling in dough in his penthouse on the Upper East Side and … Well, he certainly could dream, right?

And that is how Blaine found himself on his way to a job interview and how he found himself forgetting his coffee order in front of the beautiful blue-eyed barista at Burt's on 85th.

“Um…sir? Sir? … Quinn, I think something’s wrong with him.”
“No, hon, he is obviously smitten. Look at those heart eyes!”
“Well I need to take his order. How do I—”?
“Shit.”
“Oh! He speaks!”
“Um…”
“Sir—“
“Blaine!”
“…Blaine, can I take your order?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I mean… I don’t know.”
“O…kay? Well you’re holding up the line, Blaine, so…”
“Oh! Just… coffee. I need coffee.”
“Well you’ve come to the right place. What size?”
“Big. Big coffee.”
“Venti medium drip?”
“How do you know my coffee order?”
“4.85 please.”
“4.85 what?”
“Money, Blaine.”
“Oh! Okay.”
“Thanks. … Blaine?”
“Yes?”
“Move.”
“Oh. Right. Yes. Sorry.”

Blaine was mentally kicking the shit out of himself. He had just made a complete fool of himself in front of the most gorgeous man he had ever laid eyes on. Awesome.

“Blaine?”
His heart stopped. “Yes?” he said breathlessly, eyes wide and hopeful.
“Uh, your coffee…”
“Oh yeah, thanks.”
“Have a great day, Blaine.”
“Thanks. You, too… uh…”
“Kurt.”
“Kurt.” What a beautiful name. Kurt.
Blaine smiled and walked out the door. No offense, Jen, but Blaine just found his new "Starbucks."

“That was so weird,” Kurt turned to Quinn as soon as Blaine left.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s never happened to me before.”
“What, someone being so enraptured by your beauty that any coherent thought they had completely leaves their brain?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Oh, Kurt, the man is in love with you. He practically forgot how to breathe when he looked at you. My bet is he calls you. Tonight. At ten.”
“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t even give him my number.”
“I did.”
“QUINN FABRAY! You can’t be serious right now.”
“I am, actually. I wrote it on his cup. And the time you get off tonight.”
“I can’t believe you did that! Ugh, I hate you so much right now!”
“Kurt, come one. You’ll thank me. Seriously. It’s been a year since Sam. And you need to get laid.”

Kurt sighed. Maybe Quinn was right. Not about the getting laid part. Okay a little about the getting laid part. But it had been a year since Sam. How long was enough time to get over a lost love? But it shouldn’t be this easy, right? The right guy wasn’t supposed to show up like that. He was supposed to search. To date around. To wait until one sticks. That’s how he met Sam. Every night, a different bar, a different guy. Until one stuck. Sam stuck. And they were good together. For a while, they were really good together. Kurt blinked furiously, trying to clear his eyes of the stinging tears that had appeared. Maybe a year wasn’t quite enough time.