Author's note: Thank you for your support so far! I'm so glad you seem to like the concept for my story, and my version of Blaine. I hope this new chapter will live up to your expectations. Thoughts, ideas and constructive criticism are more than welcome!
Chapter Two: A Striking Stranger"Nice big smile, Harry. Together, you and I are worth the front page." (J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)
The book fair was scheduled to start at 10 AM. Blaine knew that his colleague Tina planned to come with her first graders just after noon. She would bring him lunch, and expected him to entertain her charges for at least half the afternoon. He was looking forward to that, but figured the morning would be slow, so he rolled up his sleeves and helped set up the fair, holding cut-outs so that they could be fixed to the floor, taping posters to the walls, carrying books and furniture and generally making himself helpful.
By the time 10 AM rolled around, the place looked fantastic and more than ready for an invasion of eager readers, so he excused himself to go freshen up in the bathroom. Luckily, he'd thought to throw an extra T-shirt into his backpack in case of emergencies. Working with children meant it was always best to have a change of clothes at the ready. He'd needed it on more than one occasion. Getting your clothes dirty was an occupational hazard as a primary school teacher. He had a T-shirt that looked like abstract art now (the children were painting rather too enthusiastically), a henley with spaghetti stains he'd had to throw away (Robby turned out to have a stomach bug and lost his lunch on Blaine), and when it was his turn to supervise the playground, he would join in the fun and games with abandon and more often than not end up caked in mud (on rainy days) or dirt (on sunny days).
When he came back to his appointed spot, he could see - and hear - that the book fair's headliner had arrived, at the stand right next to his. Sebastian Smythe, a former child actor who'd grown up on the set of a popular TV series, had decided to cash in on his celebrity status before it faded and did everything under the sun to make it last. Case in point: a much hyped series of children's books, slightly reminiscent of Enid Blyton's Famous Five.
Blaine had read the books, and though they were solidly written and occasionally funny, they weren't memorable. He wouldn't stand in line for hours to get an autograph or one of the first copies of the next instalment. It seemed as if his opinion was a minority one, though. The queue that had formed in front of Mr Smythe's stand was steadily growing longer. And the parents seemed just as excited as the children, if not more so.
Well, to be fair, he had to admit that Mr Smythe was very good-looking. Tall, lean, piercing green eyes, his clothes, posture and attitude a tribute to James Dean and a smirk telling the fans that he knew exactly what havoc he was wreaking every time he spoke to or winked at one of them. No wonder they all seemed hyper and slightly breathless.
Wait… All of them? No… There was one glaring exception. Halfway the queue stood a girl that he guessed was about the age of his third-graders. She was pretty. Big chocolate eyes, long braided nut-brown hair, dimples in her cheeks and graceful even when standing still. She was loud. He could hear her every word as clearly as if she were standing right next to him. And that was with her whispering. It seemed like she could barely contain herself from jumping up and down, shouting her glee to the sky, hugging everyone in sight and twirling until she fell over dizzy.
Her father, though, didn't seem happy to be there. Not in the least. He looked tense and exasperated, as if he'd rather be anywhere else in the world than there, shuffling closer and closer to Mr Superstar Smythe. He was typing a mile a minute on his phone, hardly ever looking up and answering the girl's questions in monosyllables and grunts. A businessman disgruntled that he missed out on an important meeting? Whoever he was, even with a surly expression on his face, he drew Blaine's eye.
Could you call a man beautiful? The mere word "good-looking" didn't seem to do him justice. He was dressed to kill, all long lean lines, his hair swept up effortlessly. His skin was so pale he could have played in a Twilight movie without needing any make-up, though the form of his face, his ears and his easy grace were more elf-like than vampire-like. Blaine amused himself picturing the stunning stranger with long, flowing hair, pointy ears and a bow and quiver over his shoulders. He'd make a great Eldarion.
And just like that, his fingers twitched to get this vision of his onto paper. He grabbed his sketch pad and a pencil and happily sketched away. An elf was followed by a prince, then a 1950s movie star. He looked up ever so often, but nobody seemed interested in Blaine's autograph as long as there was a celebrity in the room. Mr Beautiful was now leading the queue with his daughter, waiting for Mr Smythe to finish talking to the fans preceding him. The girl was full-out bouncing.
Then it was their turn.
"Name, please", drawled Mr Smythe.
"Sarah", said both father and daughter at the same time. Sarah giggled.
Mr Smythe looked up, a spark in his eye.
"Well, well … If it isn't my fake kid brother. Long time no see, bro! This your little girl, then?"
The man looked at Mr Smythe, clearly livid. His mouth was a thin line, and his eyes were narrowed in a glare that nearly knocked Blaine off his chair with its intensity. Yet it also seemed familiar, somehow. Where had he seen that before?
"Unlike you, Sebastian, some people have moved on from "A Tree Called Life". So please don't ever refer to me as your brother again, fake or otherwise. The name's Kurt, and thankfully, I am NOT related to you. And for your information, this is not my daughter. Sarah's my niece."
Mr Smythe grinned, seemingly not at all fazed by Kurt's animosity.
"Ooooh, touchy … Still haven't forgiven me for messing up your sweet sixteen party, have you? Lighten up, Hummel! Nobody remembers your youthful indiscretions anymore, stop beating yourself up about it!"
Kurt huffed indignantly.
"Could you just sign that stupid book of yours, so that we can be on our way?"
Mr Smythe grimaced playfully.
"Oh dear, my baby bro still needs to work on his manners. You've forgotten the magic word, sweetcheeks!"
Kurt looked as though he wanted to lash out again, but he reined himself in and said in clipped tones: "Please."
"Kurt by name and curt by nature!" quipped Mr Smythe, but when another impressive glare was levelled in his direction, he lazily grabbed a copy of his latest book, wrote something, signed with a flourish and handed it to Sarah. "There you go, sweetheart, enjoy!"
"Thank you!" said the pair in unison again, and once more, Sarah giggled.
Blaine smiled. She seemed over the moon with happiness.
"Blainey Days? Blaine? Earth to Blaine!"
Tina had arrived.