Authors Note: This is my first story! *Cheers*. This story/fanfic is inspired by a book that I've recently read, Dash & Lily's Book of Dares - an excitable and cute love story type thing. I enjoyed it, at least, and this jewel popped into my brain.
I hope you all enjoy your time reading!
Blaine
Saturday, February 11th
Imagine this little scenario playing out in front of you:
You are in your favorite bookstore/coffee shop, minding your own business as your eyes scan the bookshelf in front of you, where the book of a favorite author currently resides, it's black spine dark and ominous among the more bright and vibrant colored books that are snuggled beside it. You're about to take this book off of the shelf, when you notice a blue notebook sitting incredibly comfortably between the other books of the A-G section. It's strange, unusual, flamboyant.
So what do you do?
Your choice, I would think (unless you were incredibly watchful and/or uncaring for a rush in your life) is obvious.
You take it off of the shelf, open it, and read whatever is written inside.
It was Valentines day in Lima, Ohio. In other words, it was the time of year for every married or newly sprung together couple to trade powder candies in the shape of little, varied-colored hearts and fuzzy stuffed animals with red ribbons strung around their necks, and for all the singles to, well, wallow in their own self-pity. I always seemed to be strung at the singles section of the crowd, whereas all of my friends either have their boyfriends or girlfriends to enjoy the season with. Not that I hate the holiday; I actually could not hate any holiday - they were all good and worth celebrating in my eyes - but for almost every Valentines Day, I have been by myself, another single (I say almost because when I was in the first grade, I had asked my book buddy, a fifth grader, to be my Valentine, but that was only out of the cuteness factor).
Not that there wasn't a bright side to this: the snow had become so thick, that Dalton and mostly every other school in the center Ohio region had been closed down. My parents, taking the holiday as an excuse, boarded the next flight for Poland, telling me that it was for 'business'. But, honestly, every holiday, that was the excuse. No one went to a business trip that often. But it wasn't like I cared anymore; after the first Christmas that I spent alone, only having my parrot as my comfort - my brother was at college - I learned I didn't need my parents to make a holiday enjoyable. It wasn't like I didn't know that they'd rather spend the holidays in some foreign country than with me.
This Valentines Day, I'm completely alone for the next few days, until Cooper and his girlfriend Alison come over from New York to spend it with me. Which, I'm not so sure why, it's not like they came for a more major holiday (Christmas, anyone?), but I would love to see my brother again. I haven't seen Cooper in about a year, besides the phone calls we sometimes exchange.
But often on this holiday break, as my friends and I have dubbed it, I find myself driving in the chilly weather to my local Barnes & Nobles, walking into the warm atmosphere of a respectful community of people, silently walking and browsing through the sections of books, only identified by a skinny brown, wooden sign hanging from thin wires on the ceiling, with it's proper section name printed in white lettering.
I was always one for reading. I've even dubbed myself as a book-nerd, as I am always on the spot with books, checking online to see what new books my favorite authors are publishing, and for other peoples opinions on a new book that I may want to try. Barnes & Nobles was my safe haven, where I could also get a complementary coffee whilst reading my newest purchase or flicking through a few pages of a new book to see if I could get into the mood of it.
On this Saturday, only a few days until Valentines Day, I decided to go to the bookstore in a profound search for one of my favored books. Even though I had already read it, I love buying a book that I've already read through, just so I could have it sit comfortably on my own bookshelf, and to grab it and fish through it whenever I felt that I had a part that I didn't understand or wanted to read again since I loved it so much.
I was perusing a favorite author of mine (Jay Asher, if the details are needed for any known reason), my eyes hardening on each books' spine as I scanned it up and down, looking for my book. That's when I saw it. A peek of blue, black spiral hinges curling out of it's back, where you could see between the separation of covers and the yellow-white paper in between.
My eyebrow quirked, my interest bordering a 'curiosity-could-kill-the-cat' like state. I glanced around the aisle, as if the rightful owner of this foreign book would pop out and demand that I'd kindly keep my paws off. Quizzically, I saw that I was the only one, but I didn't indulge any further as my index finger poked the top corner of the notebook, dragging the top out of it's safe shelf and into my hands.
A piece of cheap (and cheap as in: I cannot believe you bought the Publix brand of cereal. That is very cheap of you.) yellowish colored duck tape was stuck to the top, it's end ragged as if someone had ripped it away from it's roll in a hurry, with the words 'DO YOU DARE?' scribbled in admittedly neat handwriting with a thin black Sharpie. I blinked, curious as to who'd leave this obviously home-made book in the bookstore. And how no one noticed before.
I opened the cover, slowly, as if I half-expected a picture of a nude woman to be taped to the first page, with a numberless quantity of others following, front and back. As I balanced the book between both hands, I raised both eyebrows at the small note inside, with the same handwriting as on the front cover.
I've left some clues for you.
Would you like to play this game? If so, please turn the page.
If you do not, than please, put this book back on the shelf.
I was almost positive that this was a girls handwriting. I mean, that neat, almost perfect cursive was too nice to be a boys.
I allowed my curiosity to take over as I turned the page.
1. Okay, since I am no puzzle wizard, I spare myself the time and will be strictly titles only, perhaps some words inside of the book later on. Though, I'm not sure how you benefit.
I think that Are You A Princess? would be a beautiful starting point for you.
1
Once you find the book and discover the first piece of the puzzle,
You can turn the page.
And you must fill in the blanks along the way, too
(Do not write in the book, though, that wouldn't be much appreciated)
My interest was, at first, spiked, but now I was not so sure as I saw the title of the book that this mystery person wanted me to find. Are You A Princess? I was thankful for the fact that my friends at Dalton were not here, because it'd be social suicide to be holding a book with that title in front of them. And the encrypted '1' at the end of John/Jane Doe's message was very unsettling and also very exciting.
I hummed lightly, contemplating where this book would be. I was sure it wouldn't be in the teens section, so I immediately walked down the aisle, moving around some people who were too absorbed in their own books to move themselves. The kid's section would obviously be my best bet for finding this book; just look out for a sparkly pink book with a silver tiara on the cover.
Small kids, all of whom were practically rampaging down the aisles like drunken midgets, each short stopped me as I made my way toward the girlish part of the books, where pink and purple books along with feathery accessories assaulted my eyes.
I moved around the kids, lowering down so I could get a more perfect view of each of the little girl books. Suddenly, poking out from between a thicker copy of Fairytales for Every Girl! and Kittens & Ponies was my desired book. Are You A Princess? was pink, of course, with the words scribbled in an italic handwriting at the center of the more wide than tall book.
I fished it out holding it and one hand and the notebook in the other. My eyebrow raised, quizzical at the challenge that this mystery person had left for me to complete. I re-read the note, narrowing my eyes in thought and contemplation. '…I will spare myself the time and be strictly titles only…' Oh! Obviously, the little number at the bottom was the first word that came in the title.
Are
I bit my lip, but than put the book underneath the notebook, turning the page as the mystery person had instructed me.
2. If you found the solution, than I'm mentally congratulating you on this!
Since you've found this in the girls section, I must ask you: Are you a teenage girl?
If so, please put this book back on the shelf.
If you're a teenage boy, than you can continue this and turn the page.
Well, I was eighteen, and I did have the proper attachments to be considered a boy. I suddenly became even more curious, tapping the corner of the notebook page with an index finger at the writers choice. Was this girl (or possibly boy) attempting to possibly set up a date?
I blinked, before flicking the next page over, shifting my hands at the added weight of the other book, and scanning the next question.
3. Sometimes People Like You Can't Say Goodbye
4/3
Rereading the title, I immediately knew that this book had something to do with a nasty break up or so. Even with that little sliver of information, I knew that this book would be harder than the first, given that it could be in the teen section, romance section, or even the sex and sexuality section.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek in thought, a horrible habit that I'd picked up from a long time ago but I couldn't seem to stop, not even as the skin inside turned ragged and bloody almost every month.
As I thought, I couldn't help but notice the suspicious glares that most mothers were beginning to give me, watching me like a hawk incase I decided to turn and snatch up their daughters, or the few unruly sons that had tottered their way into the aisle.
After standing there and thinking for what seemed like half and hour, I sighed, giving the mothers a slight nod before departing the kids section, trying my luck to the front desk to get directions to this strange book called Sometimes People Like You Can't Say Goodbye. Traveling down the stairs and waving myself through the herds of book buyers, now, since it was 1:00, all of the families and nosy teenagers looking for a private hangout coming inside of the bookstore, I couldn't help but cock my eyebrow at the choice of book.
Had this mysterious person decided this book based off of a nasty break up? Parental or sibling troubles? Or was the title just something of their convenience?
I ignored some of the stares that I was drawing from the book in my hand, and continued toward the stacks of coffee mugs with the inscription of 'Barnes & Nobles' on them, pink and red to match the festivity of the holiday. The front desk was right in front of me, the man standing at the register giving me a suspicious look as I put the notebook and the princess book down.
"Excuse me, sir, I'd like to-" I was beginning to say, ready to ask the tall, straggly haired early twenty year old where the book was, until he obnoxiously cut me off.
"Are you seriously buying a princess book? I know you boys are obsessed with My Little Pony and crap now, but you're not seriously considering being a princess, right?" he asked me, looking disgusted.
A rumbling grunt arose from the back of my throat, barely audible over the steady churn of the blender in the Starbucks inside of the bookstore. "No," I began gruffly, my fingers slightly drumming on the counter top, "I was actually looking for a book. Sometimes People Like You Can't Say Goodbye. Do you know where it's at?" I asked, slightly hopefully, but still very annoyed with the clerk at his interpretation of my coming to his desk.
The clerk, Marvin, as his nametag read, gave me another weird look. "That's a chick book, kid," he said slowly, as if telling this to a child. This irritated me further. I may be a bit smaller than the other boys, but it wasn't like I was an ignorant child. I was extremely tempted to snarl my 3.8 GPA at him, but I allowed it to burn in my throat.
"So in the romance novel section, I'm guessing?" I asked, my fingers clasping at the sides of the notebook and the kids book.
Marvin nodded, his head gesturing to the stairs. I said a quick thank you, before walking quickly away from the desk, ignoring the lingering stare of the clerk as I disappeared around the corner and up the stairs.
I walked even quicker up the stairs, once again darting around the crowd of people at the stairs. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. Who knew a bookstore would be so crowded on a Saturday?
The romance section was, as I suspected, crowded with hopeful middle aged woman, curious teenage girls, and some wives with their embarrassed husbands. I immediately was out of place without a girlfriend - well, not that girls were my cup of tea, anyway - or another girl in general by my side.
I slipped casually into the aisle, before pausing as I looked at the mountainous bookshelves on both of my sides. I cursed inwardly; the mystery girl/boy had forgotten to mention who the author of the book could be. The books in my hands now brought up to my chest, I heaved out a sigh. But maybe not knowing the author was what would make this all more exciting - more fun for us both. Even though I can very well admit right now that I, for one, am not having fun.
The romance section was very…depressing, in a word. Not in the general sense of the books; the books were steamy, very lusty, something that probably every girl had dreams about happening to her. What was depressing to me was probably the amount of woman in this aisle, looking at the books, eyes growing wide and hungry as they read the back cover of a romance novel with no doubt something hot and steamy snipped into the middle and ending of the story.
I blinked unsurely, my hands slowly sliding against the books spines as I walked passed, keeping a surveying eye out for Sometimes People Like You Can't Say Goodbye - a book that I probably wouldn't have known to have existed until today.
I nearly leaped with joy as I saw it; a creamy-yellow-gray coloration to it's background, an oak branch extending out from the side with crisp autumn leaves hanging and swirling down into the world bellow. The title was printed in neat, glossy crimson lettering, cursive and exquisite. Though I was tempted, I didn't read the back cover incase the summary held something that'd become trapped in my head for the rest of the day.
Suddenly remembering my mission, I looked at the title of the book, for the fourth word.
Are you
I smirked as the blanks slowly filled, before once again frowning at the /3 at the end. I contemplated again, bringing the book closer to the face as if that'd help me discover what this person wanted me to find.
Are you like
Opening the notebook once again, I flipped to the page that I last read, smiling as the girl/boys' neat handwriting looked up at me.
4. I will admit that you're a smart one. I have another question for you:
What is your least favorite school subject?
Science. I always hated science. Everything about it - astronomy, chemistry, biology, the calculations, everything, had always thrown me off, since middle school when the classes for science had become more advance. My teachers would always tell my parents, "Oh, your son is bright, but it's just his science grade". It was always science. And I was admittedly sure that I'd never be able to fully understand it.
5. If you said science, I believe that we're going to be getting along just fine, and you can turn the page.
If you didn't, please put this book where you found it.
Wow. So I guess Jane/John Doe and I have a lot more in common than I first thought. Respectively and automatically, I turned the page, the two books underneath the blue notebook shifting as I flipped it.
6. There Is Nothing Wrong With Masturbation
3
113/9/8/5
I'll admit, the rosy blush on my cheeks was brightly flamboyant as I read the next book that this mystery person had given me. I had almost no doubt that this particular book would most definitely be in the sex and sexuality section, where the gazes that were thrown my way were awkward, curious. I had no notion to ever buy a handy book in masturbation, so I was little to none surprised to see that the book was almost in full stock.
The book didn't have a disturbing cover; I had figured that if a young child had ever stumbled upon this book in their parents room, the people who'd published this book had thought two steps ahead and gave the book a plain cover.
But there was something different, unusual about this message in particular: the other numbers that the other person had used. I raised an eyebrow, slowly reaching up to grab the book off of the shelf. Well, the first was easy.
Are you like nothing
The message was a little choppy, also a bit dirty, if one thought about it in that way. I sighed, my hand running through my hair as I scanned the notebook writers' message a few more times. Curiously, after a few moments of silence, I grabbed the book from underneath the notebook in my hand, opening it and flipping to page 113.
I once again blushed heavily at the graphic photo at the top, before slowly looking down to paragraph 9. I chewed on the inside of my cheek again as I pressed a finger onto the side of the paragraph - making sure I don't forget where it was - while looking at the last two digits.
I exhaled out of my nostrils heavily, pausing from my cheek-chewing, and moving onto my bottom lip. After a few seconds of contemplating, I scanned line 8, and read word 5 - or, well, words.
Are you like nothing I've ever had?
I once again blushed at message, before looking back at the notebook, the three books that I had found for this mission underneath the blue notebook. Some people passed me by, giving me long, awkward stares as the saw the three books that I had beside the notebook. To them, I must've looked like a confused, lonely, teenage boy. I shook my head, turning the page once again.
7. Now, this question is where things are narrowed down. If you are a straight teenage boy, than please put this book back where you found it (and please, if you're homophobic, keep your hate to yourself).
If you are looking for a possible boy/boy relationship, than please turn the page.
I think any boy who stands in Barnes & Nobles with a book on princesses, a book for lonely woman, and a book on masturbation is worth my time.
I blinked, not blushing, but close enough to. Yes, it was a fact for anyone that knew me that I was gay. I was out and proud, but I still didn't make a big scene out of that fact anyway. But a relationship? On Valentines Day?
My eyebrow quirked, a smile gracing across my face, before turning the lined page of the notebook.
So here we are.
Now, it's completely up to you whether or not you'd like to delve into a relationship.
From my understanding, if it's still that time of year, Valentines Day is around the corner, and singles like us shouldn't be single for long, right?
So here is what you need to do.
Please go to the Starbucks.
At Starbucks, there's going to be a girl there with black hair and brown highlights - Asian descent.
Her name is Tina, and if you ask her anything about me, she won't pass on your message to me.
Give Tina a book, any book, it doesn't matter, with your email address inside of it.
She won't say anything aloud to you, she's pretty shy herself.
I hope I can get back to you in time,
Kurt
Kurt. The name was foreign, yet suddenly desirable on my tongue as I mouthed it silently, anyone who was extremely close to me the only who could've heard it. I blinked, contemplating whether or not I should be specific with my book choice, even though this Kurt said it wasn't needed.
Whilst browsing for a random book to grab, a small, devilish idea popped into my brain as I put the three, undesirable books on a random counter top. I quickly snatched up my book as I walked by, glancing around until the small Starbucks came into view.
For some reason, the owner of the Barnes & Nobles had decided to place the Starbucks on a slightly higher level than the first floor, a small wheelchair ramp leading up to the coffee shop with three steps for the able people.
Walking up the steps, I watched the workers at the coffee shop move around each other, handing coffee and accepting money from the people on the other side of their circular coffee shop. Scanning each of the workers, looking for the Tina girl with the description that Kurt had given him in mind.
I smiled as I saw her; wavy black hair with lighter brown highlights streaking through her hair, set in a pretty, Korean-descended face. Instead of my email, I had slipped something else inside as I gave it to her.
Tina's eyes widened slightly with what I believed to be surprise as she saw me wordlessly hand her the book, before she nodded, putting it in a small drawer underneath the cash register.
I walked away, a large smirk on my face.
Two can play at this game, Kurt.
Authors Note: Yes, this story will be in first person, but it will have alternating POV'S throughout, between Kurt and Blaine as they pass the notebook around. And, yes, some New Directions and others will be making appearances from time to time in this story as well.
I hope you all enjoy! Have a fantastic rest of your day!
- Somewhere