Tina triple-checks her watch as the crowd around her and Blaine expands in all directions, pushing them farther back when, infuriatingly, they had been the first two people in line. A pair of tittering teenagers pushes past them, further deepening the distance between them and (eventually) Broadway superstar Kurt Hummel, but Blaine doesn’t complain, and he doesn’t fight to regain his spot. He simply rolls higher up on the balls of his feet to get a glimpse of the man he’s been pining over since his breakout roll as Lola in Kinky Boots. As the groundbreaking new lead in the revival of Cats, Blaine has fallen thoroughly in love with the man, and has chosen to express that love by stalking Kurt shamelessly – not to the creepy breaking-into-his-dressing-room-and-sniffing-his-costume extent, but in other overzealous fan ways.

Blaine has seen Kurt perform from the front row about a dozen times (an expense that’s threatened his and Tina’s rent twice already). He’s gushed over Kurt’s devotion to his craft on every online forum; has written in depth analyses of his diction, his mannerisms, and his vocal technique; contradicted any slightly unfavorable review (which got him blacklisted from over fifty Tumblr blogs); and hoarded every photo that he could find, resulting in close to one thousand downloads in a single day. Tina is convinced that Blaine has to be on an FBI watch list or something, which she curses about under her breath when their Wifi connection lags during non-peak hours.

“Blaine!” Tina whines as an oblivious woman elbows her in the side. “We’ve been at this stage door every night for over a month! Can’t we go up to the barrier? We were here first!”

That last part she yells into the face of another rude fan, who shrinks back but still cuts up to the front.

“All these people paid for tickets,” Blaine argues. “It wouldn’t be fair to cut.”

“But you paid for opening night, and every night after that for about two weeks, and you still let people cut!”

“I…I had my reasons,” Blaine says, lowering his voice when he notices people staring, hoping Tina will follow his lead and do the same.

“Just go and say hi to him,” she says, embarrassingly still at full voice. “It can’t be that hard.” Tina doesn’t get Blaine’s reluctance. He’s stood out here for 47 straight performances so far, making 43 for Tina, since four times it poured rain, and she refused to go on those nights. She respects Kurt as a performer and all, but not enough to catch pneumonia. A lot of other fans have come back multiple times. She hasn’t been taking count or anything, but some people – like the ones who show up in full cat makeup, complete with kitty rhinestone collar – are hard to miss. But she suspects Blaine has been the only person to come every single night without fail. He stands in roughly the same spot, and when Kurt passes by, Blaine calls out his name, smiles and waves. She might be crazy, but she swears that Kurt has actually started looking for Blaine. She knows from Blaine’s red cheeks and obnoxious giddiness that they’ve locked eyes more than a few times. If he went to the front and stood by the barricade, she’s certain Kurt would shake his hand.

He’d probably also sign any body part Blaine asked him to.                

“There he is!” someone shouts before Tina can launch into a more persuasive argument, and the whole crowd turns in the direction of the stage door. The other actors in the show have long since come and gone. Kurt’s exit heralds the end, and the faithful stand and wait for him, eager to barrage him with requests for autographs and selfies.

Or, in Blaine’s case, see the upsweep of Kurt’s hair as he walks by on his way to his limo.

Which means that Blaine will drag Tina back here tomorrow night to get shoved and manhandled by strangers. Tina loves Blaine, but along with the unintentional assault, her social life takes a serious hit every time Kurt Hummel comes into town. She’s given out rainchecks for three dates this month alone. She can’t continue on this way, not for another three months of performances.

“Look!” Tina says, smacking Blaine on the arm. “Here he comes! Now’s your chance! Go to the barricade! Come on!”

“Tina” – Blaine shakes his head – “I can’t…”

“Ask him for his autograph,” Tina continues, ignoring her best friend’s protests as she shoves Blaine towards the front.

“No,” he says, digging his heels into the concrete, “I…”

“He’s getting away!” She shoves harder, overlooking angry cries of Hey! Watch it! Stop cutting! “Just…get…up…there…”

“I…can’t,” Blaine insists, flailing his torso to shake her off. “He…ergh…he probably…oof!...has places…nngh…he needs…ugh!…to get to.”

Amidst Tina’s pushing and Blaine’s struggling, there’s a magical moment when the sea of people standing in their way separates, and a narrow aisle opens up. Kurt, hopping from autograph to autograph, peeks their way, and spots Blaine. He pauses a moment, smiling wide. Tina, standing directly behind Blaine, knows for a fact that Kurt sees him. Blaine does what he always does - he calls out, “Kurt!”, then he smiles and waves, and Kurt waves back. But Blaine, so concerned about everyone else getting their fair shot, doesn’t move.

Well, if Blaine isn’t going to take a risk, then Tina sure as hell will.

Either her best friend and college roommate won’t speak to her ever again after this, or this will turn into one of the greatest Broadway love stories in history.

With a softly whispered, “Sorry, Blainey,” Tina shoves Blaine as hard as she can.

Tina sees the look of surprise on Kurt’s face before the word, “Tina!” comes out of Blaine’s mouth. In the space of seven feet, Blaine goes flying past three densely-packed rows of onlookers and flips over the barricade. Tina had meant for Blaine to stop at the front, maybe – maybe – fall at Kurt’s feet so he would have to offer Blaine a hand up. He would look into Blaine’s eyes, there would be an instant spark, an immediate love connection, and over a month of celibacy on Tina’s part will not have been in vain.

Instead, Blaine tackles Kurt, taking him straight to the ground. Fans screech as if there’s a knife fight breaking out. Paparazzi cameras flash. Security guards rush to the scene, hands reaching into the tangle to grab Blaine and pull him away.

Tina pictured a lot of things happening – romantic, Nicholas Spark-esque type things – but nothing like this. She watches one guard talk into his Bluetooth headset, probably calling for the police, and she hurries forward to rescue her friend. As she nears the barricade, the crowd closes in front of her, but not before she sees a different guard rear an arm back as if he’s about to throw a punch.

“Blaine!” she screams uselessly, her stomach rolling taut.

If Blaine gets arrested, she’ll never be able to look at him again, but if he gets the tar beaten out of him for assaulting a celebrity, she’ll never forgive herself.

“No! No, stop!” Tina hears Kurt yell. She can’t get a clear view of him or Blaine through the ever-shifting gaps between people, but she does see a hand swatting the bulky men in black suits away. “Hands off of him! Let him go! Let…him…go!”

The crowd lurches forward, and Tina advances about a foot-and-a-half, but this change doesn’t make it any easier to see. But she can hear giggling coming from the melee, and a round of, “Sorry. So Sorry,” “No, I’m sorry,” “But I knocked into you,” “Yeah, well, I think you might have had some help there…” From the heart of the rabble, a single blue eye shines Tina’s way, and she yelps, ducking to avoid being seen.

Losing her vantage point, Tina doesn’t get to see a single smidge of what happens next, but she hears quite a bit of conversation.

“Are you sure you’re okay to stand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Here, let me help you. I’m Kurt, by the way. Kurt Hummel.”

“I know! I’m Blaine Anderson! I’m your biggest fan!”

“I know.” Kurt laughs. “I’ve seen you here every night. But…why does that name sound so familiar? Wait! Do you write for Broadway.com?”

Blaine laughs his nervous laugh.

“No, but I comment in their forums all the time.”

“Oh my God! You’re the guy who defended me from that heinous comment about my pants! That I wear them tighter than necessary to take attention away from my lack of talent.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, with an adorable little angry growl, like a Pomeranian. “He was so off-base to say that. I mean, how could he? You have an amazing talent, regardless of how tight your pants are!”

Kurt and the crowd roars with laughter. Tina can’t hear anything after, not over the fans who start calling out to both Kurt and Blaine (some of who comment about recognizing Blaine’s name, too), shouting questions of both men. This goes on for a while, with neither of them answering back. But the onslaught of questions comes to a sudden halt as an awww passes through the spectators in front, and then applause. Tina jumps up and down, trying to see. When the crowd settles, Tina sees Kurt hurry to his limousine and climb in, while Blaine makes his way through on slow footsteps, floating a foot above the ground.

“What happened?” Tina asks, giving Blaine a once over to check for scratches and bruises. She doesn’t see any, but from the dreamy look in his eyes, even if he had broken his arm, he wouldn’t have felt it.

“He…he gave me a backstage pass for tomorrow night’s show.” Blaine sighs, showing her the laminated card with Kurt’s picture on one side, and the logo for the musical Cats on the other, the words V.I.P. ACCESS stamped over it in purple. Tina quickly shoves the pass into Blaine’s inside coat pocket, safe from covetous eyes and sticky fingers.

“What else?” she asks, because after the laughing and the conversation and the photographs, there had to have been something else. Something that prompted that spontaneous awwww.

“He…kissed me on the cheek.”

“Ooo” – Tina takes Blaine’s arm and leads him past a cluster of older women glaring at him with envy – “in some cultures, that means you guys are married.”

It’s a joke, but it makes Blaine sigh like a lovesick puppy, and Tina rolls her eyes.

“Tina?” Blaine says, looping his arm through hers and resting his head on her shoulder.

“Yes, Blaine?”

“I’m never going to wash this cheek again.” He cups his right hand protectively over his cheek as a light mist begins to fall.

“Yeah, well, then he’s never gonna kiss you again.” Tina chuckles. “Yuck.”