For years I've hidden behind these walls; I've lived in a fortress of solitude, afraid to let anyone in because I couldn't bear to lose anyone else. I've shut myself off from the world love, hoping that I never have to relive that heartbreak. I may appear strong on the outside, but don't let my phasade fool you, I've been broken and, quite like Humpty Dumpty, no one has been able to put me back together yet. I will never let another person hurt me like that again – mark my words, reader.

It's been 2 years, 3 months and 7 days since I last spoke of love; since I last considered the possibility of loving another with all of my heart and expected nothing less in return. I've resigned myself to a life of meaningless flings and repressed any evidence of human emotion when it comes to that four letter word I despise so much.

It's not as bad as it sounds reader, seriously, you need not worry. I make do with what I've got – which isn't much in the small town of Lima, Ohio. Not that I plan on sticking around after graduation; senior year is almost over and then I'm out of here. I don't particularly care where I go, anywhere is better than nowhere, right?

But first I've got to hold out another few months with these idiots I'm forced to call classmates. Why does the world hate me? Did I smash 50 glass mirrors in a past life or something equally as ridiculous?

The first morning back after Christmas break was rough. I was late to class – as usual – and I was rocking the windswept look that I'd soon adopted as my signature look ever since this persistent wind started three weeks ago. My hair was a mess and I was without a notepad to doodle on whilst Miss Denning babbled on about some history crap – this was going to be a long day.

'Ah, Mr Hummel, how nice of you to join us. Late again I see. Should I make your home phone number one on my speed dial or do you actually plan on being on time this year?' Those were the first words my fifty-something history teacher spat at me when I eventually stumbled into 1st period.

I simply shrugged it off and walked towards my usual seat at the back.

'Actually Mr Hummel, I've devised a new seating plan so I wouldn't be so eager to sit if I were you.'

It really was too early in the morning for her crap. As much as I'd like to start the new year afresh, her irritating voice pierced through and shattered all logical thought in my brain. I sat down, in my usual seat, ignoring her previous statement, brushing it off like dirt.

My head fell in my arms atop the shared desk and I stared at her, willing this hour to hurry up and finish already. It's only been5 minutes and I want to throw her out of the window – fantasy doesn't usually kick in until around noon.

'Seeing as your so adamant to ignore me today Mr Hummel, why don't you put your time to better use and catch Blaine here up on what we've done so far.'

Oh. I hadn't even noticed the new kid sitting next to me. How did I miss that? Usually the seat next to me is avoided like the plague because no one dares sit near the school queer; something about not wanting to catch it. As you can see, our school's education budget is going to good use.

This new guy was different. He was handsome for one. And by handsome I mean drop dead gorgeous. I felt nervous just looking at his sculptured body; his smile was so genuine and left a glimmer of hope in his hazel-green eyes; his fashion sense couldn't even be faltered – there's just something about a guy in a bowtie that drives me insane.

I swallowed hard before turning and giving him – so he thought – my full attention. He was crazy if he thought I hadn't already memorised his every feature.

'Hey, I'm Blaine.'

Those were the first words from his perfect lips. My entire body froze. His voice was like melting honey and I was surprised to find how interested I was in consuming every idiom. Could a voice really be that sexy or was my hearing impaired after having Ms Denning's screeching tones ringing through my ears?

I took a few moments to calm myself before replying, 'oh, um, hi. I'm Kurt.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you Kurt.'

'Oh trust me, the pleasure is all mine.'

The filter between my brain and mouth eroded before my very eyes; I couldn't help it, he was picturesque.

'Oh, um,' he fumbled as his cheeks flushed a fiercer fuchsia than Ms Denning's blouse – an accomplishment in itself. His eyes were glued to his hands, fidgeting with his fingertips and toying with his thenar. Then I noticed the ring. On his right hand he had a silver band with 'one life one love' etched onto its smooth surface. Great. He's a virgin.

How could someone so perfect be so chaste?

After studying his face, searching for the answer, I decided what it was I had to do: I was going to have to deflower this alluring creation. He will be my new conquest.