Kurt's Point of View

Caught in a traffic jam in New York City, I slap my forehead impatiently. "I should never have taken Lexington Ave," I murmur to myself, absent mindedly checking my vibrating iPhone.

Come quickly to 21 Broadway, How to Succeed in Business is holding open auditions for the first 20 NYADA students! –Rachel

"On my way," I whisper under my breath, quickly replying to my roommate. I quickly turn to the taxi driver and blurt out, "Change of plans! Take me to this address," pointing breathlessly to a map. "Please, go as fast as you can!"

The driver turns, gives me a dirty look, and grumbles about my high-pitched voice hurting his ears. He slowly takes a right and starts the long journey to Broadway. As I begin to settle in, anticipating a long ride, a jolt shakes the cab and sends it screeching into the curb. Pedestrians scream and jump away from the impending car as its side rams into a steel bench. I cover my head and tuck my chest into my legs, protecting myself from potential glass. My eyes squeeze tightly and I begin to gasp, breathing uncontrollably. Slowly, I calm myself down and peer out of the window facing the street. The driver of the colliding cab is fiercely arguing in Spanish with the driver of my cab. I quickly open the door that is not jammed and climb out, still slightly traumatized. I glance down at my lavender button up shirt and straighten it, trying to press out the wrinkles while making my way toward the sidewalk.

"Are you ok?" A hand bearing a Michael Kors watch waves in front of my face, drawing my attention away from my outfit. "I don't know what happened," a handsome guy about my age dressed in a navy and red polo shirt says. "We slammed into you pretty hard."

"Uh, I'm fine. Just a little shocked I guess." I quickly take in the stranger. His black hair is gelled down neatly across his head, and his amber eyes look me over, clearly relieved that I wasn't injured.

"So," he states in a smooth voice, "are you going to stick around? I'm not planning on paying the cabbie."

"Me neither," I chuckle nervously. "Well, I'd better go, I need to get to 27 Broadway in about ten minutes. They're holding auditions for How to Suc-"

"You too?" he exclaims. I was just heading over there. I go to NYADA too!"

"Come on then," I shout over the traffic, gesturing to the street. "We can split a cab!"

"Sure," he yells. "I'm Blaine!"

"Kurt," I say over my shoulder, walking towards the street to flag down a taxi.

We step into the cab as soon as it pulls up and simultaneously announce, "Take us to 27 Broadway!" Blaine and I glance at each other and collapse into a fit of giggles.

"You seem very excited," Blaine teases. "How long have you been going to NYADA?"

"Two years," I reply. "My friend Rachel Berry and I moved here from Ohio."

"She won the Winter Showcase last year right?" I nod and he gapes at me for a second before stating, "I'm a freshman. I came here from Ohio, too."

"Really? What a coincidence!"

We continue to chatter and before I know it, we are paying the cabbie and climbing out of the car. Luckily it looks like not many NYADA students were tipped off about the opportunity. I see Rachel and wave. She is, of course, standing at the front of the line waiting anxiously. Blaine and I take our spots at the end of the line.

After a few minutes of waiting, the line begins shuffling forward. As he and I march towards the exit, the police man inspecting our IDs looks Blaine over and tells him to wait for a few seconds. I give Blaine a puzzled look he waves me off and says, "Don't worry, it's just a different ID."

"Maybe I'll see you around," I say to Blaine, tempted to ask for his number.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could have your cell phone number," he says hopefully, staring nervously at the gum-covered sidewalk.

"Sure! I'll put it in your phone." He hands it to me and I type my number in shakily, messing up a few times. "Here you go."

The smile he gives me makes up for the lost time getting to the auditions; I grin and run inside.

What Kurt doesn't see is Blaine being roughly handcuffed.

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