I hate broccoli. I stick it with my fork and then throw it back on my plate. Carefully, I wipe every remnant of the disgusting vegetable back onto the plate. I watch glumly as Blaine walks back to the lunch counter to bring us drinks.

Watching him wiggle his butt back and forth without a care in the world, I hate him for a minute.

Yesterday was a disaster. From the humiliating attempt at sexiness to the embarrassing conversation with my suddenly interested dad, I just want to forget it had ever happened.

I need to be sexy, to sell a song at Regionals. But how?

Frustrated tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them away. Today is not a time for tears. Today is time for action. Blaine didn't get it. The idea of him, of all people, trying to help me understand sex - I want to throw up, lick up my vomit, and throw it up again at the very thought.

He doesn't understand why that would be such a horrible idea. He doesn't even see me as attractive. He's placed me in the friend zone.

The broccoli spear mocks me.

That's it. I think with disgust. I have to get out of here. Someone can teach me how to be sexy.

I shove back my chair, and leave my untouched lunch on the table. I walk with purpose out of the cafeteria. Blaine will wonder where I am, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't understand the essential part of my reticence towards sex.

I square my shoulders, and get into my car. I drive to McKinley on autopilot. Karofsky briefly crosses my mind, but I shove the hulking brute far away. This was too important for fear.

By the time I reach the school, classes are over. I go to the choir room, false bravado propelling me past a school which once was a prison.

When I step inside, the only person there is Puck. He noodles around on the guitar, lost in thought.

He looks up at me, curiously.

"Hummel?" he said, incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

I regarded him for a moment, the way his muscle bulged through his shirt, and how his perfectly coiffed mohawk radiated cool.

I nod to myself, and walk into the room.

"I need you." I say firmly. "To teach me how to be sexy."

It's almost worth it to watch his mouth fall open in shock.

"Um, why?" he manages.

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and point at the blackboard, which was emblazoned with the word, "Sexy."

"To compete at Regionals." I snap.

He chuckles to himself, and set his guitar down gently on the floor.

"Love to help you, bro, but in case you forgot, you're our competition. It wouldn't be in the club's best interest."

This is unbelievable. I know I have to give up the lies, and tell him the real reason for my visit. I have a feeling Puck's a secret romantic.

"Look, Puck." I say softly. "That's not the real reason I'm here. Sex - terrifies - me. I prefer romance, that's one thing, but I don't even know what to do in bed. The thought of it makes me break out. I was just getting curious about it, but then - Karofksy -" my words fumble into silence. I squeeze my hands and stare down at the floor. "He didn't just bully me," I murmured. "He-he -"

In quick flashes, I watched the meathead quivering with rage, before he violently attacked my mouth. The way his hands pawed at my arms, like I was some kind of animal. The way his tongue tried to force its way inside.

To my chagrin, a sob escape my throat, the high-pitched sound penetrating the empty room.

I turn away, trying desperately to regain my composure.

I have to tell him everything. If I don't, I will always be stuck.

"He kissed me," I said, after a long silence. "I thought he was going to hit me, but instead he kissed me. It was - one of the most horrible moments in my life. He took that first kiss from me. I can never get it back. Thanks to that -" I turned back, and glaring viciously into Puck's confused eyes - "that bastard, every time I want to touch someone, or kiss, or even act sexy - I just feel terrified. Powerless.

"It's not shyness or ignorance stopping me now." I murmured. "It's fear."

Puck stares at me with an impenetrable gaze. He gets up from the chair, and gently places his hands on my shoulders.

"I'll help you, Kurt." he says bluntly.

"Why?" I ask. "One sob story, and you change your mind?"

He shakes his head, ruefully.

"You don't get it. Everyone should be able to enjoy sex. It's in the ten commandments, or something. That dickweed took your confidence, but he didn't take your innate Kurt-ness. If you're confident in yourself, your hotness comes in spades. Trust me."

I nod, but I'm doubtful.

"So what do I do?" I ask. "How do I start?"

He eyes me critically, removing his hands, and crossing them in front of his chest.

"Stand up straight."

I shrug, and stare at him.

"I am."

He shakes his head quickly, and stands up ramrod straight, military style.

"Dude, you're taller than me, but right now you're a shrinking violet. So suck in your breath and -" He sucks in his breath to demonstrate. "Stand up straight."

I mimic his stance, and he nods approvingly.

"Good, good. Gained a few inches, just from that. Now -" he gives me the once-over. "Let me see your swagger."

I begin to strut around the room, feeling ridiculous. I must look it too, because he immediately darts in front of me, stopping my movement.

"You're trying too hard," he admonishes. "Just remember, you're a catch for any guy. You don't need to work so much at it. Try again."

I try again, this time trying to project confidence, rather than sex appeal.

"Cool." he says quickly. "That was better. But I can still see you concentrating. Let's try something different. You seen It Happened One Night?"

"Of course," I answer dismissively. "You have?"

He shrugs, but not embarrassed. "I used to watch old movies with my nana," he admits easily. "It helped me develop my sex manifesto."

I cock my eyebrow dubiously.

"You're kidding."

"Absolutely not." he answers. "Now remember Gable in that movie? He's down on his luck, about to be fired, but he oozes sex appeal. He charmed the panties off Colbert within a few hours. Now did you find him hot?"

"Absolutely," I interject. "He marches through life like everything crummy hand is just a temporary setback. You just know, in the end, he'll get the girl. But he's Clark Gable. I'm nothing like him."

"You're looking at this all wrong, Kurt." he replies. "He wasn't hot because he's Clark Gable. He's hot because the character knows himself, and knows what he wants. When he falls for Colbert, you know he's gonna get her. It's destiny.

"So here's what I want you to try. Give me your best Clark Gable - down on your luck reporter. Then you meet this great guy - that Warbler dude!" he interrupts himself, shaking his head with sudden realization. "Your best Clark Gable, then you meet Blaine. You're in love. You don't want anyone but him. Go."

I know this won't work either, but I give it my best shot. I imagine the charming Gable, and a small smile crosses my features. I feel stupid, then a sudden memory invades my mind. The first time I met Blaine, when he held my hand, and pulled me after him to watch Teenage Dream. The way my hand felt sweaty after, and warm.

My lips part slightly, and I feel that warmth again.

I stare into the far distance, transfixed by that memory.

When I come back to myself, Puck is smirking knowingly.

"Remember that moment, Kurt." he says. "When you think about Blaine, all the fear's gone. You're just - there, in that moment. It's very sexy." He quirks his mouth into a small frown. "Not to me personally, but it's confident. You got outside of your head for a minute."

"Outside of my head," I repeat, rolling the words around in my mouth slowly. "Interesting. Thank you, Puck. I need to get back to Dalton now. I left Blaine in the lurch."

Puck smiles, and it looks strange and unsettling on his usually brusque face.

"Go get your man, Kurt." he says sagely.

I give him a quick nod, and am already halfway out the door before I freeze.

"Puck!" I cry suddenly. "Don't tell anyone what I said about Karofsky. He doesn't deserve to be outed like that. It would be hell."

"Are you descended from Mary Poppins or something? That dude seriously jacked you up, and you keep his secret." He shakes his head. "Weird. But all right. I won't say anything."

"Thank you," I say sincerely.

He gives me a gruff nod in response, and I exit the choir room, light of heart. I'm embarrassed to say I don't even remember the drive back to Dalton, but before I know it, I'm standing in front of Blaine's dorm room.

I knock once, and wait for what feels like forever. While I'm waiting, I remember singing "Baby It's Cold Outside" with Blaine, his flirtatious smiles, his concern for my sexual knowledge. It could all amount to nothing, but I can't play games anymore. I take a deep breath.

He opens the door almost instantly. He grins hugely when he sees me, and pulls me close in a firm hug.

"Where have you been all day?" he says. "I was freaking out. I turned around, and you were gone. The only reason I didn't call the cops is because Finn saw you at McKinley. Kurt, you can't scare me like that. I thought the worst."

"Why?" I ask, carefully extracting myself from the hug. He ushers me inside as he closes the door.

He blinks slowly, totally confused.

"Why what?"

"Why did you think the worst? Why do you care so much? We're just friends, after all." I cross my arms over my chest, and glare at him, almost cold. Somehow, all of my desire to show him my sexiness has evaporated. Now that I'm back, I'm back in the friend zone. I can feel it, like a skin rash.

Blaine's eyebrows furrow and he steps into his personal space. His hand grasps my elbow, gentle as a bird.

"Kurt, of course we're friends. But I -"

"You know my favorite part of old movies and Broadway musicals?" I interrupt him fiercely. The air in my lungs is thin, but I forge on.

"What?" he asks. "What are you -"

"At the end, after all that sexual tension has built up, after they barely touch through the whole story, at the end, they -" My voice is quivering, and I don't feel anything. Not sexy, just weak and alone.

"Look at me, Blaine." I whimper. When he doesn't respond quickly enough, I grab his chin, and pull him down.

"Look at me." I repeat softly. "What do you see?"

I stare into his deep brown eyes for a long moment, breathing deeply to find my confidence. There's nothing I can do about the tears, so I focus, and burrow into his eyes. I want to rest there. I want to be treasured.

I feel his gaze dig into me, looking at the curve of my mouth, the intense almost glare of my eyes.

He licks his lips slowly, and I hear a short moan squeak out.

"Kurt." he says huskily, and his voice is different now. For the first time, I hear desire.

My thumb grazes his chin, travels upward to caress his cheek.

It's as natural as breathing to fold forward, and kiss his waiting mouth delicately. As I get used to the feeling, I want more. As his hands rest loosely on my hips, I deepen our kiss, just enough to tease him.

It's only at the last second that a glimmer of Karofsky causes the fear to jump up.

He feels the tension in my body, and lets me go, I hope reluctantly.

"You don't have to prove yourself to me." he says gently. "I just want you to be comfortable."

Blaine leads me to his bed, and we sit down. His hand loops over my shoulders, as he rubs my back slowly.

I look at him sideways, through lowered eyelashes. The heat is still singing in my veins.

"There." he says quickly. "Right there. I'm sorry, Kurt, I gotta -" he grabs a hand mirror from his dresser, and holds it up to me.

His breath is hot and soothing on my neck. His other hand continue to rub my shoulders, slow and steady. "You've never looked more beautiful." he confides. "What are you thinking about?" It's barely a question; it's almost like he's just making conversation.

I stare back into the mirror, seeing my "sexy" face for the first time. The boy staring back at me has a new intensity to his features. He looks older. It's a little thrilling.

"You." I confess softly. "It's always you."

I make him put down the hand mirror down, and rest my hand on his thigh, timidly.

His eyes darken, but he puts his hand on top of mine, and gives me an indecipherable look.

"Let's just take our time, okay?" he whispers. "You know I don't want to screw this up."

I grin at him, and ruffle his hair with my fingers.

"You could never do that." I reply.

I relish his hand on top of mine. I scoot forward and rest my head on his chest, listening to his heart.

He falls back onto the bed, and we snuggle quietly for a few minutes.

"You know my absolute favorite part of musicals?" I finally say, to break the silence.

His chuckle makes his chest shake underneath me, and I idly draw circles on his stomach.

"What's that?" he asks, and I hear his smile.

"When they get together at the end, and have one kiss, and you just know that after that scene, they're screwing like rabbits." I murmur. My hand has a mind of its own, and now I'm playing with his abs, almost to his nipple.

His breath comes quicker, and he smoothly wiggles away from my questing fingers.

"Yeah." he says simply. "That's my favorite too."

I smile so big my cheeks hurt. It's not enough, not yet, but it's enough for now.