I couldn't get back to sleep. I did all the things that usually made me sleepy.

I listened to some truly heinous Owl City, listened to football on the radio and did my history homework. But I was still wide awake.

This insomnia was all Finn's fault. I mean, I'd always been rather proud of my legs. I'm rather aware that they're one of my better features. But to have Finn comment of this sent my desperate, fantasy-ridden mind into overdrive.

I must have fallen asleep, though, because the next thing I knew, "Burlesque" was blaring out of my iHome. My alarm. I panicked, and went to grab my Dalton blazer when I realized that it was Saturday.

Thank god. Back to sleep.

Wait.

Why was my alarm on?

THE MALL. Finn had promised to drive me into the mall. New York & Co. was having a huge sale, and there was no way in hell that I was missing it. Fuck sleep. I don't need sleep when I have fierce clothes.

I was so sleep deprived that morning that I nearly forgot the third step of my skincare regimen. Imagine, having gone out in public without fully exfoliating.

As I stumbled down the stairs, mumbling the word "coffee" over and over again, I glanced into the living room. Nope, still vandalized. Last night was not a weird dream.

Finn was as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever. Which pissed me off even more. Damn him and his lack of perception. How could he not be wracked by sexual tension to the point of insanity? Oh. Wait. Straight guy. God. Why do I always forget that? To him, I'm just as attractive as that chair. My eyes narrowed as I considered that. Chairs had legs. Finn liked mine.

"I need to go change!" I announced to the kitchen at large, and scurried back upstairs.

Skinny jeans. Skinny jeans. I have some somewhere. I think they're Marc Jacobs. I pawed through my closet, and then I found them. Not the skinny jeans. Better. Much, much better. My pair of leather Gucci pants. They're so tight, they look like they're painted on. And leather is like a "10" on the kinky daywear scale.

I took off the striped button-up I had planned on wearing and threw on a plain white (but still designer) V-neck t-shirt. Kind of a "Grease" look. But not sad clown hooker. Just hooker. Perfect.

I passed Finn on the stairs as I headed back down. His eyes got wide as I passed him, I turned around. And it was pretty obvious that he was staring. So I decided to push it. "Finn, stop looking at my ass."

His reaction was unexpected. Instead of laughing and rolling his eyes at me, he went sheet-white and bolted into his room. Hmmm. Odd.

Carole and Dad were flirting at the breakfast table. Well. There goes my appetite. I cleared my throat in an effort to stop the doe-eyes, but the only effect was that they looked at me briefly, and then went back to their adoring stare. Without breaking eye-contact with Carole, Dad said, "Kurt, are you really going to wear those to the mall? Don't you think they're a little… tight?"

Carole looked up at me. "Wow, Kurt. Who are you trying to impress? Someone cute work at the food court?"

I blushed. Could she have any idea? Probably not. I decided to play it safe. "Well. You know what they say, Carole. 'When you got it…'"

Carole laughed, and said, "Flaunt it. Seriously Kurt, I'd kill for legs like yours."

To which my fawning father said, "I like your legs, Carole." And then they were kissing. Ugh. This was more than I could take at eight in the morning. I poured myself a huge mug of coffee, and headed out to the car to wait for Finn.

After nearly fifteen minutes of kicking a wrench around the garage floor, I decided to go get him. Seriously. We are going to be late. All of the good clothes are going to be gone.

As I stomped up the stairs AGAIN, I yelled, "Finn! Couture waits for no man."

On the other side of his closed door, I thought I heard Finn say my name. I pushed the door open, and immediately an extremely startled Finn removed his hand from his erection and struggled to pull his jeans back up to his waist. For a few seconds, I couldn't think. Or speak. But when I finally could, I wasn't really capable of any coherent sentences.

"Oh my god. Sorry. Finn. I'll just. Wait. Back. In the garage. Sorry. I just. I thought I heard you say my name, and… sorry. I should have knocked. I'm sorry."

He didn't say a word. He looked as mortified as I felt, and we were both blushing so hard it looked like hardcore sunburn. I slammed the door and all but ran back down the stairs. I took some deep breaths out in the garage.

And not forty-five seconds later, Finn was there. He looked so embarrassed that it was almost cute.

"So. Which mall are we going to?" he said in a strangled voice. It was pretty obvious that we were not going to discuss what had just happened. And I was very, very okay with that.

But as I got into the car, I just couldn't shake the feeling that, before I had opened his bedroom door, I had heard him say my name.