Dave Karofsky watched Kurt eating lunch with Mike and his girlfriend—he didn't know her name, didn't care. He wished he could forget Mike's name now that he was a gleek, but it was too late for that. He hated glee so much it made his skin crawl. He saw Kurt sitting, legs crossed, one hand folded in his lap, the other dabbing a napkin on his soft lips.
Karofsky knew they were soft. He'd kissed Kurt in the boy's locker room just yesterday. And Kurt had already told his boyfriend, or whatever he was, which pissed him off even more.
*You're not my type…*
Damn it! How could he not be someone's type? He's strong, pretty good-looking, well-endowed, and here he was, sitting with his clueless football buddies, glowering over that girly little ditz Kurt Hummel.
For the first time in his life, Karofsky had taken a risk so big it could crumble his popularity. He'd kissed a guy, kissed Kurt freakin' Hummel, and Hummel had rejected him, had pushed him away—he felt his face grow hot.
And then, he looks up and there's freakin' Hummel looking at him, his eyes confused, angry, upset, and Karofsky looked away.
*You kissed me…*
Come on! Why couldn't he stop thinking about it? It couldn't be that he was disappointed, could it? Why should he be disappointed that a girly-girl like Hummel rejected him? After he came clean with his secret? What secret? No one has to know anything. He could deny ever kissing him, couldn't he? Who would believe Hummel over big bad Karofsky?
Okay, fine, so he was into guys, but who cared? Like he said, no one knew, no one had to.
*Well, he's not coming out anytime soon…*
Stop thinking about it! So what? He'd overheard Hummel's butt buddy saying that, and what the hell did he know? No one would be there for him anyway. The one guy who would understand couldn't stand being around him, let alone kissing him, and that was it. He was alone.
Karofsky stood, threw away his uneaten food, and stormed out of the lunchroom.