After eventually convincing himself that his quest to find Blaine was futile (and also bordering on stalking), Kurt decided to stop by the public library.  He had heard from a salesclerk in one of the stores that the library had free wi-fi, and he wanted to check his email on his phone without using precious gigs on his data plan.  He spent an hour in the quaint space checking email, playing on Tumblr, and posting to Twitter.  Then he put his phone in his pocket and stood up, preparing to leave.  However, as he passed the check-out desk, he came to a sudden halt.  There, chatting to, laughing with, and smiling at the librarians was Blaine Anderson in the flesh. 

Kurt couldnt move. 

Blaine was even more beautiful than Kurt remembered.  He was Ivy League personified in Nantucket red board shorts, a madras plaid, short sleeved button down, and Sanuk street sandals.  On anyone else, the rich, frat boy uniform would have had Kurt turning up his nose, but, on Blaine, it looked gorgeous.  The shorts hugged Blaines squeezably round ass, and the short sleeves emphasized Blaines toned arms and burnished skin.  His hair was wilder than Kurt remembered, and his fingers itched to tangle in the curls as he pulled Blaines plump lips to his for an unforgettable kiss. 

Kurt was so lost for a moment in the fantasy of kissing Blaine that he failed to notice that Blaine had turned around and was now looking at him quizzically.  Kurt came to just in time to see Blaine tilt his head and hear him say, "Hi." 

Mortified to be caught staring, Kurt fled the library, his cheeks and ears so bright red he worried he might spontaneously combust right there on the sidewalk.  Kurt didnt realize that Blaine had followed him until he felt a hand reach out and clasp his forearm.  "Hey," Blaine said. 

Since his only alternative to stopping was to literally wrench his arm from Blaines grasp--which seemed overly dramatic even for Kurt--Kurt stopped and turned to face Blaine.  "Hey," he repeated Blaines word back to him with feigned nonchalance, which was ridiculous given his behavior in the previous thirty seconds. 

"I know you, right?"  Blaine maintained his quizzical expression from the library.  "Did we go to...oh, wow.  Youre Kurt, right?  From the New Directions?"

Kurt couldnt believe that Blaine remembered his name.  Of course, he remembered Blaines name, but he had reasons.  Still, he was impressed that his voice didnt shake when he responded, "Yeah, thats right.  Kurt Hummel.  Youre Blaine Anderson, right?  From the Warblers?"  Of course, Kurt knew who Blaine was, but he certainly wasnt going to let on that he had been lusting after a fantasy version of the man lo these many years. 

"Thats right!"  Blaine smiled and looked extraordinarily pleased.  Then he asked, "Why did you run out of the library?"

"What?"  Kurt gave a forced laugh, "Oh, that.  I, uh, um....I thought I was going to be late for something." 

"And are you?"

"What?"

"Are you late...for something?"

"Oh.  Oh!  No.  No, Im not late for anything.  I forgot that the thing was tomorrow."  He gave another forced chuckle.  God, he sounded like an idiot. 

Fortunately, Blaine let it go.  "So, howve you been, Kurt?  Its great to see you."

"Its great to see you, too," finally Kurt could say something honestly.  "What are you doing here?"

"I live here."  Then Blaine flapped his hands, "I mean, my parents have a house here.  I come here every summer.  I work at the Club Car.  Do you know it?"

Kurt shook his head.  "I dont know it.  Ive been here less than a day, actually."

"On vacation?"

Kurt nodded.

Blaine put his hand on Kurts tricep, and--did Kurt imagine it, or did he rub his hand up and down a little?--explained, "The Club Car is a piano bar down by the harbor.  You should come down and check it out.  I play most nights between 7 and 11." 

"Are you playing tonight?"  Oh, God, did that sound eager and needy?  

Apparently not, because Blaine smiled again, "Yeah.  I hope Ill see you there, Kurt."

Kurt shivered at hearing his name on Blaines lips.  It seemed pitched a little lower than all the other words in the sentence.  "Maybe you will," Kurt answered enigmatically while inside a little Kurt was delightedly shrieking, "Yes! Yes! Yes" and flailing like a windsock. 

-s-

There was no way that Kurt wasnt going to the Club Car that night.  He worried for a little bit that Burt and Carole would insist he stay in.  Kurt was an adult, but he didnt have his own transportation, so going to a bar meant getting his parents to lend him their vehicle or walking three miles from Cisco Beach to downtown.  Walking there wasnt such a big deal, but he would get sweaty, and that was not the look--or smell--that Kurt wanted to project tonight.  

Fortunately, both Burt and Carole were delighted to find that Kurt had run into an old friend.  They were so enthusiastic that Kurt realized that his parents were worried about his breakup with Adam.  They were tiptoeing around him like he might crack at any second.  Well, if it worked to his advantage...  He might as well get something out of all those years with that lying, cheating, sack of pond scum.  In his bed!  That son of a bitch!  

Kurt felt pain and realized that his hands were in fists and his nails were digging into his palms.  Honestly, Kurt was a little surprised that he didnt really feel sad about Adams loss.  For right now, at least, he was still too angry. 

-s-

Kurt spent two hours getting ready.  He showered carefully in the outdoor shower, feeling a little less self-conscious than the night before but still not entirely comfortable.  When he was squeaky clean and shaved, he re-entered the apartment and looked at his naked body critically in the mirror.  After squinting at his chest, he rummaged through his travel kit until he found a pair of tweezers.  Taking a deep breath, he plucked two stray hairs from his pecs in quick succession.  Tears of pain sprung to his eyes, and he hopped around the bathroom for a few seconds until the stinging abated a bit. 

Damn it!  Kurt strongly believed that men should either have chest hair or not.  This one or two hairs every couple of weeks was for the birds.  And painful   It could be worse, he reminded himself.  He could just have hair around his nipples.  Ewww. 

Adam had a small keystone of hair right in the middle of his flat, white, Englishmans chest.  The first time Kurt saw Adam naked, he was less than impressed, but, over time, hed gotten used to it.  The English accent helped a lot.  So did strategic mood lighting.  Adam, on the other hand, was quick to remind Kurt of his need for grooming every time one or two hairs sprouted on his own chest.  When he said, "Honey, you need to take care of that," Kurt wanted to snap back, "You should talk, sweetie," but, instead, he just bit his lip and reached for the tweezers. 

Tonight, however, Kurt didnt mind a little extra grooming, even if it smarted painfully.  He looked up his nostrils and checked for out of place nose hairs and inspected his ears for unsightly hair, as well.  Hed yet to find any ear hair, but tonight was not the night to take chances.  He brushed his eyebrows into shape, spraying the eyebrow brush first with some hairspray to hold them in place.  Then he devoted the next half hour to meticulously applying product to and styling his hair, bending at the waist to blow dry his hair upside down for extra volume.  Afterward, he rubbed a silky Shea butter lotion all over his body and sprayed cologne in a few key places.  Finally, before putting on his deodorant, Kurt did a few pushups--just enough to emphasize the definition in his arms, chest, and stomach but not enough to get sweaty--then he applied deodorant.

Feeling adequately prepared for any naked eventuality--and, really, who was he kidding?--he dressed.  Being clothed was easy for Kurt.  He knew fashion and he had style.  Being naked made him a basket case. 

-s-

By the time Kurt entered The Club Car, the evening was already in full swing.  There was a small crowd standing around, most already tipsy.  Blaine was sitting behind the piano, alternating between flirting professionally with those leaning on the piano and singing along to his own playing. 

Blaine was dressed effortlessly in an expensive-looking striped suit with a white shirt and black tie.  His dress coat was slung over a nearby mic stand, and he had rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing tanned forearms.  His hair had been gelled back into the helmet that Kurt remembered from high school.  It was a look reminiscent of old time movie stars, and it made Kurts palms itch to mess it up a little.  The trip in time was completed by the fact that Blaine was singing "Mack the Knife" and encouraging the crowd to "sing along, because I know you know it." 

After the song ended, Kurt caught Blaines eye, and Blaine tinkled a few melodious notes on the piano as he said into the microphone, "Ladies and gentlemen,  I have it on good authority that one of the finest countertenors to ever grace the Ohio show choir circuit is with us tonight.  Maybe we can persuade him to sing a song or two for us."  Blaine tilted his head as he looked at Kurt, "Will you sing with me, Kurt?" 

Kurt smiled shyly, but he made his way around the piano to where Blaine was sitting, and Blaine scooted a little to one side to make room on the bench for Kurt.  Still playing a little tuneful but unrecognizable ditty as he turned back into the microphone Blaine said, "Now, I dont know all the songs that Kurt knows, but I know he knows this one."  He turned slightly and looked at Kurt, his fingers continuing to move over the keyboards. 

Suddenly Kurt heard from the notes change from a musical nothing to something he recognized, and he muttered, "No freakin way," to Blaine under his breath just as Blaine started singing, "Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world, she took the midnight train going anywhere." 

Blaine nudged Kurt with an elbow and Kurt opened his mouth and sang, "Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit, he took the midnight train goin anywhere." 

After three years in the New Directions, Kurt could have gladly gone the rest of his life without hearing "Dont Stop Believing," or, indeed, any Journey song ever again.  A small part of him wondered if Blaine was mocking him.  Still, singing the song with Blaine suddenly elevated the number to Kurts new favorite.  He was clearly going to have to add it to his iPod playlist, although he knew that every time he heard it from here on out he was going to get a small erection. 

When the song ended, everyone clapped enthusiastically, and Kurt moved to stand, but Blaine took one hand from the keyboard long enough to press it briefly to Kurts thigh and say into Kurts ear, "Stay."

Kurt stayed. 

Sitting next to Blaine on the keyboard, he sang along with the increasingly drunken tourists and locals in the bar as Blaine played one old standard after another.  Finally, as the night was wearing down and the crowd was thinning, Blaine looked at Kurt but spoke into the microphone, "Do you know any Sinatra, Kurt?"

"Sure.  A little," Kurt answered.

"How about this one?"  Blaine launched into an introduction that could have been anything from the Sinatra songbook, then he began singing, "Ive got a crush on you, sweetie pie.  All the day and night-time give me sigh; I never had the least notion that I could fall with so much emotion."

Was Blaine kidding with this?  Still, at Blaines arched eyebrow Kurt sang back, "Could you coo, could you care for a cunning cottage we could share? The world will pardon my mush, ‘cause Ive got a crush on you."

Kurt and Blaine sang the song together, Blaine hamming it up by fluttering his eyelashes at Kurt and swooning, pretending he was going to fall off of the piano bench.  At one point, Blaine even pressed his temple to Kurts, making heart eyes at him, and Kurts senses were overwhelmed by the small touch and the musky scent of Blaines cologne.  The remaining patrons laughed and sang along, and Kurt didnt know if Blaine was flirting with him or just being a consummate showman.  When the song ended, Blaine gave Kurt a brief, one-armed squeeze, then he said into the microphone, "Kurt Hummel, ladies and gentlemen." 

After a smattering of applause, Blaine continued, "Thanks, everyone, for coming.  Dont forget to tip your wait staff whove kept you in cocktails all night.  My name is Blaine Anderson, and Ill be here all week, so keep coming back.  Ill see you tomorrow."  With that, Blaine stopped playing, and everyone--including Kurt--clapped enthusiastically one more time. 

"Thanks for coming, Kurt.  That was fun," Blaine said, standing up. 

"Yeah, I had a good time."  Suddenly, everything felt awkward to Kurt, and he couldnt think of anything else to say. 

After a pregnant pause Blaine said, "So, Im sure Ill see you around."

Oh, so it was like that.  Kurt shouldnt have been surprised.  It was all a show.  He knew it was all a show.  He put on a pleasant mask and said, "Yeah, Ill see you around.  Good night, Blaine."  With that, he stood, spun on his heels, left the bar, and drove home. 

All the way home he reminded himself that he was an idiot for thinking that someone like Blaine would have a romantic interest in someone like him.