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The stage lights glared over the dingy, battered folding chairs that were arranged in a large circle. Each of Blaine’s footsteps made a muted thud against the black, wooden surface of the stage as he walked over to a chair. He sat down and pulled out a small notebook. He didn’t know if this was going to be the kind of meeting where notes should be taken, but he liked to be prepared. His chair wobbled unevenly, and he thought briefly that he would’ve expected Yale to have fancier seating options.
“Welcome, everyone!” called out a tall Black woman who stood in the middle of the circle. She was wearing a cardigan that looked handmade, a riot of colorful yarn. “Please take a seat and we’ll get started!”
The last few stragglers who had entered the theater found their way to the uncomfortable chairs, and she smiled out at them all. The student in the center spoke again, catching everyone’s attention. “Thank you for coming! If you somehow ended up here by accident, this is an informational meeting about the Yale Dramatic Association.” She gestured widely as she spoke, turning to project her voice throughout the room. “This is just to help you understand the process of getting involved if you want to become a member, and to start connecting with all you first years who want to contribute to this community. I’m Natalie, I’m a senior and I’ve been involved in theater at Yale since I was a first year, so I’m excited to see you all continuing the tradition! I’m gonna start things off with an icebreaker. I’m sure you’re tired of these already, but if you’re in theater you’re gonna have to get used to them. I want you all here to find a person or a couple people around you to talk to, and tell them why you’re here today. You have five minutes, go!”
The person sitting closest to Blaine was a pretty blonde girl wearing a navy blue dress. She looked liked she could have been a Golden Age Hollywood star.
“Hello,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Blaine.”
“Quinn,” she replied, shaking his hand briefly. Her face remained impassive.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Blaine said. “Would you like to start, or should I?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and Blaine was struck by the feeling of being put under a microscope. “Go ahead,” she told him.
Blaine nodded and squared his shoulders. “I’ve been performing in choirs and other musical groups for years. I’ve always admired theater but never been involved, and I figure college is the time to try new things. How about you?”
Quinn folded her hands in her lap as she spoke. “I want to study drama,” she said. “I think I’ve been learning how to act like someone else for a long time. I’d like to put that talent to use, and learn how to do it properly.”
“Do you think there is a proper way to do something so creative and personal?” Blaine asked.
She raised an elegant eyebrow. “I suppose I’ll find out.”
“Have you done any stage work before?”
“A little musical theater in high school,” she said. “Ensemble roles. And a lot of singing. I was in choir, too.”
It was easy to continue their conversation based on shared experiences - even more so when they discovered they both came from Ohio. Quinn seemed to soften as they spoke, her posture staying straight but less rigid, her smile growing more genuine. Blaine felt disappointed when they were cut off by Natalie calling for the end of the icebreaker.
Blaine listened diligently to explanations of how the Dramatic Association worked, and to presentations about upcoming student productions and what kind of volunteer help they needed. He took some notes, and put his email on several contact lists. He played theater games and made small talk over catered deli food.
He found Quinn again, but she was in the middle of a conversation with several other girls about hair care routines, and Blaine was pulled away by a guy from his residential college.
When the meeting was officially over and everyone headed for the exits, Blaine caught Quinn just past the first row of seats in the audience. “Hey,” he said, catching her attention. “Could I give you my number?”
She looked back at him, and he once again felt like a specimen being scrutinized.
“I’d love to be friends,” he added, realizing that she could have interpreted his question as a come-on.
Her mask broke, and she smiled. “Sure,” she agreed, pulling out her phone so he could type in his number.
Blaine left the informational meeting feeling like he’d learned and accomplished a lot.
By November, it was unquestionable that Quinn was Blaine’s best friend. They ate together in dining halls, studied side-by-side in the library, stayed up late talking about things banal and profound. Blaine had made other friends, too, but none that he spent as much time with or enjoyed the company of as much as Quinn. Beyond the superficial similarities of their backgrounds, Blaine and Quinn were both ambitious, both craved approval, and were both trained in projecting a smile no matter what they felt underneath. What Blaine loved about Quinn was how they allowed each other to be honest, to admit when they were scared.
They conquered their midterms and finals together. They both crewed on a student production of The Crucible, and Blaine brought Quinn a massive bouquet when she performed a monologue in a first year showcase. They commiserated over family drama during trips home for the holidays. Quinn consoled Blaine when Cooper was in a car accident - he suffered no more than a fractured collarbone, but his trademark overdramatics and lack of communication skills made things seem temporarily dire. Blaine helped Quinn weigh pros and cons when she fell in love with her Global Economies class and ultimately decided to change her major.
And Blaine was there at 11pm on a Friday night near the end of their freshman year, when he heard a rapid knocking at his door and opened it to see a teary-eyed Quinn clutching her purse in one hand and a pair of heels in the other.
“What happened?” Blaine asked - he knew that she’d had a date that night.
“He was just -” she took an unsteady breath, “- a huge jerk.”
Blaine glanced back into his room, where his roommate was engrossed in a TEDtalk about dark matter.
“Let me grab my shoes,” he told Quinn.
They made their way to the buttery in Blaine’s residential college, and Blaine got a smoothie for them to share. Once they were settled at a table in a dim corner, Quinn began to speak.
“It started out nice,” she said softly. “We got dinner, and then we walked back to his apartment to watch a movie. When we got there he mentioned that his roommate was out of town for the weekend. We were sort of cuddling on the couch, which was fine, but then he started - getting handsy.” She paused and took a breath, and Blaine could feel goosebumps forming on his arms. “I moved his hand,” Quinn went on, her words coming more quickly, “told him to watch the movie, and it was fine for a while. Then he started kissing my neck - which, again, was nice, but clearly he wanted to escalate. So when I moved his hand again and told him I wasn’t interested he got all - surly, and offended. He called me stuck up.” She wiped delicately at her eye. “I left right then.”
Blaine exhaled heavily. “I’m so sorry, Quinn.” He held out a napkin, which she used to blow her nose. “He’s an idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah.” She stared down at the napkin balled in her hands. “Me too.” They were silent for a moment before she said, “I wish I could be a normal college student and have sex with a cute guy, it’s just -”
“You don’t have to justify yourself,” Blaine insisted. “He shouldn’t have pressured you at all, that’s his problem, not yours.”
They hadn’t spoken much about sex and romance, besides one late-night conversation their first semester. Blaine had referenced his complete lack of relationship experience, and Quinn replied that she’d sworn off men after a series of high school relationships that she now realized she’d been in for all the wrong reasons.
“No, I -” she took a deep breath. “I want to. You should know.”
Then, in hushed tones, she revealed something Blaine never could have anticipated - that she was a mother. Or, rather, that she’d given birth to a baby that had been adopted. Suddenly a few things Quinn had said about her past fell into place, but mostly Blaine was just shocked.
“So,” Quinn said with a shrug. “The last time I had sex it kind of ruined my life. Well, it’s more complicated than that. But - that’s why I’m a little hesitant.”
“Of course,” Blaine said. “I’m so - thank you for trusting me with that.”
“Thank you for being trustworthy,” she replied. “I guess I should have stuck with swearing off of men. None of the rest of them are gentlemen like you.”
Blaine smiled softly. “Well, I’m your gentlemanly friend for as long as you want me.”
Quinn got up and sat next to him on the other side of the table, then leaned her head against his shoulder. He lifted his arm to hold her and rub soothing circles onto her back.
Blaine and Quinn kept in constant contact over their summer apart, texting and calling to stay updated on each other’s lives. Their sophomore year they started planning their class schedules to have some overlap, since they were both studying business now. Their friendship continued to define their college years, and when they both wanted to move off-campus as seniors, they found an apartment together that they shared with another Yale student named Julia. Blaine loved being able to come home to Quinn after class, to share the latest gossip or agonize over assignments together.
Blaine got back to the apartment one evening in March to find Quinn pouring Prosecco into the mason jars they used as cups.
“My pitch won!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw Blaine. “I’m going to New York to present the idea to real investors next month!”
Blaine dropped his school bag and gathered her up in a tight hug. “That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”
She wore a wide, unabashed smile - completely genuine in a way Quinn rarely was. “Thank you for putting up with me while I’ve been stressing over this. It’s going to look so good on my resume! Wait, how was your midterm?”
“Good!” Blaine said, sitting on one of the stools that served as their kitchen chairs. “Actually less overwhelming than I thought, I feel pretty confident about it.”
Quinn handed him a glass of wine. “Then we both have some celebrating to do tonight.”
Blaine clinked his glass against Quinn’s. “To hard work paying off,” he toasted.
“To us,” she added, “and our future.”
They drank.
Julia got home and had half a glass to celebrate their accomplishments, but then had to leave for a trivia night. Blaine and Quinn moved to the living room and polished off the bottle themselves, talking and laughing and singing along to music playing from Blaine’s laptop.
They were seated close on their too-small couch and Blaine’s whole body felt fizzy with sparkling wine. He was just thinking about how this was it, one of those perfect, quintessential college moments that he would never forget, when Quinn leaned even closer to him. He thought that she must have lost her balance, until suddenly his nose was brushing her cheek and she pressed their lips together.
He was so surprised that he simply froze, unsure how to react.
Quinn pulled back, and her eyes seemed so bright in the dim room when she blinked. “I -”
Blaine was abruptly so certain that he didn’t want to know what she was going to say next, so scared of what her words would be and what they would mean for them both, that he did the only thing he could think of - he leaned forward and kissed her back.
She fell into him immediately, reaching up to grip his arm. Blaine kept his eyes closed and tried to focus. It felt - nice. He’d kissed a couple of girls since coming to Yale, but it wasn’t something he had much experience with. Somehow it being Quinn made it both more fun and more nerve-wracking. He trusted Quinn, knew her as well as she knew him, and there was something comforting about that - but he was also more terrified of what messing up with her might mean.
When they separated, Quinn exhaled heavily. “Wow,” she said.
Blaine cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Wow.”
After that, they were a couple. They never explicitly discussed it, but it felt natural to fall into those roles.
Blaine had always been so good at playing the parts others expected of him.
Not much changed, really - they kept their separate bedrooms in the apartment. They’d already spent the majority of their free time together; now they just kissed or cuddled sometimes.
All of their friends said some variation of “finally” when they found out. Blaine’s mother was so happy and excited when he told her that Quinn was his girlfriend now.
Quinn was Blaine’s best friend, and the whole world seemed confident that they belonged in a relationship, which reassured Blaine that it was the right thing.
Blaine knew he was moving to Los Angeles after graduation for a position in his father’s company, and suddenly it seemed that Quinn was applying to jobs only on the west coast. A week before the end of the semester, she accepted an offer from an outdoors-wear company in LA, sealing their post-college plans together.
Moving across the country and being thrust into adult life was overwhelming. Cooper was somewhat helpful in introducing them to the city, but he had his own busy life to deal with. Whether they were hiking in Griffith Park or trying a new Argentine restaurant or just lying on the couch watching TV together, Blaine was so grateful to have Quinn by his side. He couldn’t imagine how lonely he’d be without her. She was beautiful and smart, talented and supportive. She had her own moods and flaws, but Blaine was pretty sure he’d somehow lucked into having the perfect girlfriend.
“I had a meeting with my dad today,” Blaine told Quinn when he got home from work one early December evening.
“Oh yeah?” Quinn asked. She had her hair up in a ponytail, her eye makeup slightly smudged as she read something on her iPad.
Blaine slipped off his suit jacket. He was unused to the mild weather in Southern California - back in Ohio or New Haven, he’d be knocking slush off his boots whenever he came inside by this time of year.
“Yeah. It was…kind of a big deal.”
She set down the tablet and looked up, her eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“He wants me to go to Ljubljana for the opening of the European branch.”
The new office opening had been a years-long process, now only two months away. Mr. Anderson had approached his son with even more stateliness than usual. “I was planning on being in Ljubljana for the first several months of operations,” he’d said, “but with the Sheffield case complications and filling the empty board position, it’s clear to me that I need to stay at headquarters for now. I want you to go in my stead.”
Blaine felt conflicted over the whole thing. On the one hand, it seemed like a good move for his career, and he felt proud that his father trusted him enough to task him with this. However, he was somewhat intimidated by the idea of moving to a foreign country all alone for an extended period. He also knew that the offer was purely ceremonial - it had more to do with his last name than with his professional accomplishments. He was standing in for his father as a figurehead of the company, not actually doing any meaningful work.
Still, he wanted to go. As soon as his father spoke the words, Blaine felt excitement bloom in his chest. He wanted something new, something different - he was overwhelmed with the unexpected desire to escape his current circumstances.
Quinn was surprised, before her mouth twisted into a dissatisfied frown. “You’re going to leave LA?”
“It’s temporary,” Blaine reassured her.
She crossed her arms. “It’s still a long time.”
“I’m gonna miss you so much,” he said, stepping forward to rest his hands on her waist. “But we can do long-distance. You could come visit - take a vacation in Europe. And you have your coworkers, and the Women’s Political Collective, and the friends you made in spin class - you’ve started building a whole life here. You’re gonna be fine without me for a few months. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“Wrong,” she insisted, but there wasn’t much bitterness behind it. “But why Lu- Lub- Yule-”
“Ljubljana,” Blaine supplied.
“Where is that again?”
Blaine swiped his thumbs against the fabric of her shirt. “It’s the capital of Slovenia.” He gave her more detail about the expansion, the reasoning for the company’s new location. He explained every justification for the business’s plan, and why he should be there when it began.
When he finished speaking, Quinn let out a resigned sigh. She reached up to brush back a strand of his hair. “Well, if your father insists, I guess you shouldn’t turn it down.”
Blaine leaned in to kiss her, and tried not to smile too widely. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Despite his efforts to minimize it to Quinn, Blaine hoped that this trip would be the catalyst for something - for his successful career, but maybe also for himself, for his life.
Quinn seemed dressed up on the day Blaine was flying out of the country, wearing a dress and bright red lipstick, instead of the business casual outfits that were typical for her nowadays. It reminded Blaine of when they were younger, how he’d thought she looked like a movie star when they first met. They were living in Los Angeles now, but so far from her old acting aspirations. As they drove to LAX, Blaine contemplated how unexpectedly things had turned out for them both. He wondered what his eighteen-year-old self would have thought of him now.
Quinn accompanied him into the airport and all the way to the edge of security, where she would no longer be allowed without a ticket.
“Do you have your sleep mask?” she asked, leaning in to straighten the strap of his carry-on.
“Yes,” he said, trying to meet her eyes.
“And you called the bank?”
“Yes, and I have the company card.”
She finally made eye contact with him. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”
“This is see you later,” he insisted.
“Okay,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss him. Blaine felt like he was on a precipice, in the midst of a turning page. “See you later.” Before he could respond, she added one more thing, something so brief and yet so, so consequential: “I love you.”
Suddenly Blaine was drenched in panic as he processed those words, staring into the eyes of his loving girlfriend in the middle of a crowded airport.
Because he loved Quinn, he did - she was such an important part of his life.
But he also knew, with the absolute certainty that eluded him in so many places in his life, that he could not say those words back to her. He wasn’t in love with her, not the way she wanted him to be. And he had no idea how to get out of this terrible situation that he’d somehow put himself in.