I remembered that day very clearly. I had been exhausted. Not only did I have tests in not one, not two, but four classes, but the Warblers had asked me to stay late so I could work on the notes to a song I simply didn't care about. The Warblers insisted on Bruno Mars numbers as obsessively as Schuster insisted on Journey music. I mean, both were perfectly fine in moderation, but…
Honestly? I was so over Dalton and its stupid uniform. I missed wearing a different carefully planned-out-the-night-before outfit every day. I missed walking down the hall feeling like I was one-of-a-kind. Dalton made me feel like I was a background singer, whether I was in Glee club or not. If it weren't for the no-bullying policy I needed so badly here and the homophobic Neanderthals I left behind, I would have been back at McKinley weeks before.
And I desperately missed New Directions.
I'd been at Dalton for a month and a half. The only thing that kept me sane from the college-level classes and the ridiculously dull uniform was Blaine. He'd actually been flirting a lot more since our spontaneous little "Baby, It's Cold Outside" duet in the rehearsal room a couple weeks before, but I wasn't sure how I felt about that anymore.
I loved Blaine. I really did. As a good friend though, I think, and a mentor. As a boyfriend though, I think I had discovered he was just too perfect. Which sounded stupid, even to myself. As stupid as it sounded, though, I couldn't shake the feeling.
And it was almost boring how alike we were. I missed more than anything fighting with Mercedes about the best Vogue issue of the year. Since Blaine was a fan too, I figured we could do the same. But no. We had the same favorite everything.
I immediately felt ridiculous. Blaine was perfect. I had just thought that to myself two seconds ago. Why wasn't I spending every waking moment trying to plan our imminent relationship anymore? Why wasn't I doodling my name with his last name like I had done with Finn?
Which sounded perfect by the way. I mean, Kurt Hudson? It just rolls right off the tongue. Not that it was at all like that anymore. He was an amazing brother. But I was prettysure Blaine would never be my brother.
What was wrong with me? What, was I straight now? I snorted at the thought. Brittany was enough of an experiment for me. I wasn't eager to go down that road again.
Oh well. I figured I'd obsess over this later when I had more energy. It was getting dark outside. I wondered where Finn was. Oh yeah. Finn isn't picking me up today. He had a date, probably with another Cheerio. I felt bad for him. He'd acted really weird for weeks, since he and Rachel broke up. I hoped they'd get back together soon. They were… right for each other, for some strange reason.
Fabulous, though. That meant I'd have to drive myself home. Maybe I'll stop at Starbucks and get a coffee. As I walked down the hallway from the rehearsal room, thinking of how good a caramel macchiato sounded, I went to get my keys out of my backpack and promptly slammed into someone.
After I grabbed my dropped bag, I went to pick up my keys. But the boy I crashed into had already grabbed them and was holding them out to me. I took them and thanked him… all before I saw him.
No. No, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening! Why was Karofsky here? Was it not enough that he practically beat me out of McKinley? He had to find me at my new school to torment me more? My fight-or-flight instinct kicked in full force.
Flight? He looked fast. And he was a jock. I'm sure he could catch up to me easily.
Fight? Again, he was a jock. And strong, of course. But if he was here to hurt me at all, I was prepared. Finn had been teaching me how to throw a punch, and I was getting good – of course, it didn't hurt that my knuckles were so sharp I could practically cut glass. Honestly though, I was more of the knee-to-the-groin type. But hey, to each his own.
I could feel the shaking terror creeping up my back, but I tried not to let it show, and instead focused on his expression, searching for any warning signs. For anything.
He looked… different. And his face, for once, didn't hold anger, exactly. More like intense focus. Underneath that, I could sense… embarrassment? I really wasn't getting it. But he wasn't making eye contact and he didn't look like he was going to say anything anytime soon.
I noticed he wasn't wearing his letterman jacket either. That was funny. I was just so used to seeing him wear it all the time, much like the Cheerios and their uniforms. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a forest green polo shirt. If the boy didn't terrify me so much, I'd almost say that he looked… good.
Finally, I broke the silence, my voice dripping with as much venom as I could possibly fill it with. I hoped I didn't sound as deathly terrified as I felt. "What do you want?" His eyes flickered up to mine for a small second, then back down to his feet. The way he was staring at them, you'd think his dirty, scruffy Nikes were the most interesting thing in the world to him.
I was quickly growing more irritated and more anxious. I repeated myself, emphasizing each word. "What. Do. You. Want?"
He still didn't answer, though he looked like he wanted to. Very badly. On the plus side, he really didn't look like he was going to hurt me or anything. Then again, he had threatened to kill me, so…
"Look, if you don't have anything to say, then I'm going to leave." He looked up as I shouldered my bag and began to walk around him, muttering, "… last thing I needed today…"
I felt like someone had jolted me with jumper cables when he grabbed my arm. Not too tightly, but enough to keep me where I was. I looked at him with disbelief and, unfortunately, a small hint of fear. Actually, it must have been more than a small hint, because he immediately dropped my arm. Huh.
He finally spoke. "Sorry. I just – I want to talk to you."
Now my face held nothing but disbelief. "And by 'talk', you mean… what? Hit me? Or maybe you want to finally make good on that threat of yours?" He flinched, shoved his hands in his pockets, looked down at his shoes and shook his head. The no-talking thing of his was pissing me off more than anything.
I kept at him, my voice growing with volume until I was practically shouting. "No? What then? What, do you want to kiss me out of the freaking blue again, and then somehow twist it around in your own screwed-up head that it was my fault? Is that what you mean by 'talk', Karofsky?" He looked up, looking like I had punched him in the stomach. I didn't care. I wanted to punch him. I couldn't take this anymore.
Just as I was about to chew him out some more, he stepped forward and placed his hand over my mouth, holding me in place with his other hand grabbing my upper arm. Not aggressively, but just enough that I was shocked into silence. Once the shock wore off slightly, I had to fight the childish urge to bite his hand or lick it or something to get it off my mouth.
"Can't you just shut up for a second, Hummel?" Again, he didn't speak with anything but frustration at what I assumed was my overall cattiness.
He didn't remove his hand from my mouth, either. Unfortunately, I found his hand to be pleasantly warm and surprisingly soft.
Not soft in the usual sense, like mine. It was like comparing whipped cream to very fine sand. Both considered soft, but one distinctly rougher than the other.
That's how I felt about his hand. And to my horror, I realized I had little desire to remove it.
"I just want to talk. There's no one here, so I have no reason to do anything. Just – trust me." At that, I made an 'are you kidding me?' noise into his palm, to which he responded, "Ok, ok, I know I'm the last person you should trust. And I'm the first person to say so. But I –" he sighed and looked down at his shoes, then continued. "I really do just want to talk."
He looked straight into my eyes and emphasized his next words, like a teacher talking to a kindergartener. "I'm going to take my hand away now. Please. Just – please talk to me."
As promised, he slowly removed his hand from my mouth. He was almost cringing, gauging my reaction. I was still pissed – ignoring the voice in my head screaming that it was because he had removed his hand – but he really didn't seem like he was going to do anything. So I crossed my arms and looked him straight in the eye. "We tried to talk to you, Karofsky. Blaine and me. We tried to help you! You didn't want our help! And now you want to –"
"Hold on!" He interrupted, "First of all, you've got it all wrong. I wanted help. More than anything, I wanted help." I answered him with all the sarcasm I'd built up in the seventeen years I'd been alive. "Well you sure had a funny way of showing it!"
He looked like he was about to interrupt, but I didn't let him. "But you're right. You're right. How could I have not realized you wanted help? How could I not find it in my heart to help you after everything you've done? I mean, lets look back, shall we?"
I ticked his offences off my fingers, one by one. "You've shoved, harassed, and Slushied not only me, but all of my best friends, too. And my brother. And none of that was even this year. This year, you've outdone even yourself. You've not only done all of the above, but now we can add a kiss to the equation? Now, normally that wouldn't be so bad, out of context – context being of course that you are a terrible bully who has done nothing but make my high school life miserable. Honestly, the kiss itself wasn't even horrible. But then you went and threatened to kill me!"
By then, I was completely out of breath. And I had run out of things to say. But I felt great. So I crossed my arms, leaned on my left leg, and waited for him to reply.
It took him a minute. Not only did he look physically pained at my rant, but he also looked confused. What, did I not make myself clear enough?
He finally found words. "I'm… confused." As if that wasn't obvious enough. I was about to ask exactly it was that he was confused about, when he answered that question. "Who's your brother?"
Well, that was the last thing I expected him to ask. I was so surprised, I answered with little attitude. "Finn. You didn't know that?"
He looked completely stunned. "Hudson is your brother? No. I didn't know that."
Now I was the one who was confused. "What difference does it make?" He looked guilty and embarrassed at my question. He didn't look like he wanted to answer.
Too bad. "What difference does it make, Karofsky? So help me, if you don't answer me —"
"I thought you… liked… him."
"What are you talking about?" I didn't care anymore that we had steered completely off topic. All I wanted to know was why he was asking me all these weird questions. He looked at me with that focus again. "Everyone knew you liked him. You weren't exactly subtle about it."
"So? What's your point? Not that it's any of your business, but yes. I used to have a crush on him. But our parents met last year and got married weeks ago." Another anger flared up at Karofsky when I remembered something else. "And they would have gone to Waikiki for their honeymoon if they didn't have to pay for me to come to this school. Tuition here is expensive, but they thought it was worth it to get me away from you! So I'm going to ask you again. What. Is. Your. Point?"
He looked like he wanted me to calm down. "Easy Hummel. Just let me explain. I saw you and Hudson hanging out more. You guys ate together, talked all the time, things like that. I saw you talking to him with those wedding books in your arms and a wedding figure in your hand. Then I saw you two dancing that day in the music room. I thought you were…"
"What? Going out?" I snorted. "Normally I'd say 'I wish', but Finn has actually turned out to be an awesome brother. Sharing a room was kind of weird for him at first, but we're all good now. And not that I need to explain myself to you, of all people, but I had the wedding books because I was my parents' wedding planner. And I was teaching Finn how to dance. For the wedding. My father, too. That's why he was there."
He seemed a bit less agitated at my words, but now he looked more uncomfortable. Like he had another question he needed to ask, but didn't know how.
Considering I hadn't been pummeled yet and this was the longest somewhat civil conversation we've ever had, I was feeling generous. "You look like you have something else to ask, so spit it out. And I don't want you looking at your shoes before you answer, because that pisses me off! Look at me and just ask your question."
He did. Hesitantly. And in voice that was low and warm. "Was… Was the kiss really not horrible?"
I was beyond being simply surprised at this point. I was completely stunned by his question. My brain was mush. When I got my senses together, I regained my sarcasm. "I'm shocked, Karofsky. Could you really be acknowledging that the kiss actually happened?"
I exhaled impatiently. "No. The kiss wasn't horrible."
He didn't look convinced, so I continued. "Look Karofsky, I'm not one for lying— unless I have good reason. Which is probably the main reason I'm your favorite punching bag. Am I right? I mean you're so far in the closet I'm surprised you haven't found last year's Christmas presents yet. I'll bet knowing someone who won't even lie to protect himself from Neanderthals like you put that in perspective for you, didn't it?"
He nodded, reluctantly. "You don't have to lie. You get to be whoever you want and no one cares. Your stupid Glee buddies don't care. Your family doesn't care. I do have to lie. Every day. It sucks. More than you know."
The anger began to slowly fade. I was starting to feel bad now. He was right. Having to pretend to be attracted to people you weren't was bad enough. That, I knew well enough. Having to pretend to hate the person you're attracted to, on top of that? I couldn't even imagine. And then being brutally rejected by that person, over and over and over again?
Was he attracted to me? I found myself hoping so. Again, I was feeling generous. I cocked my head playfully and looked up at him from underneath my eyelashes, smirking. "Just so you know, the kiss itself was pretty hot."
He looked up at me, surprised and flustered. "Are you kidding? It was pretty much an attack in an empty locker room by a crazy, homophobic closet-case." He looked down. "You deserved better than that for a first kiss."
I did a double take, all playfulness forgotten. "Wait, what? How did you know that was my first kiss?"
He looked up at me again, an apology in his face. "I heard you and your… friend – Blaine? – talking after I left that day. You said you'd never been kissed."
Now I looked down at my shoes. "No. I hadn't. And not since, either." I looked up at him with a smirk on my face. "So far, it's just been you." Surprisingly, he grinned.
I almost hated to break the moment, but I had to know. "Karofsky? Why did you do it?" He looked confused. "Bully you?" I sighed. "No. Kissed me. What brought that on? I mean, what? Did you finally realize you were gay and decide to go for the first guy you could have a chance with?" I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
He looked genuinely shocked. "No! I mean, I didn't know I was… well… I didn't know until I… I kissed you." He laughed once. "I couldn't even say the word out loud in my own head until that day I took the cake topper from you." He got serious again, keeping the laugh in his eyes. "But that kiss was pure instinct. I figured out from that that how much I had liked you. Because you're you." He laughed again, this time much more softly. "Because you freak out over your clothes and hair. Because when you get angry, you know how to fight back. Because you didn't care what anyone said or did to you, you just kept coming to school every day in another crazy outfit, with your head held high, like you were just asking to get pummeled. I like you so much because you are hilarious and smart and ridiculously talented and – well, I might as well be honest at this point – really, really hot. Not because you're… you know. But me being… well, I didn't know I was." It was almost amusing how hard it was for him to say the dreaded g-word.
But I didn't dwell on amusement long, because by then I was mentally swooning over his compliments and now obvious care at what I thought. Stupid Kurt! Don't fall for it! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! The voices in my head noticing how close Karofsky had gotten through our conversation and that he looked much less chubby without his letterman jacket drowned those other, negative voices out.
He looked at me for a minute before saying anything. He obviously saw I wasn't mad anymore, because he softly smiled. I realized I'd never seen him genuinely smile. It was nice. And also kinda surreal. "There really was a reason I came all the way over here, you know." I was trying to remember how to speak. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
He moved in closer, until I could practically feel the body heat radiating from him. We were less than half a foot apart now. I could feel shivers going up my body, but I wasn't cold and I wasn't scared. Not anymore.
"Come back to McKinley."
Wha… what? It took me a minute to form coherent sentences in my head. Even when I got to that point, all that came out of my mouth was an intelligent "Huh?"
He repeated himself. "Come back to McKinley. I know your boyfriend comes here," He said boyfriend with not so well contained bitterness, "And I'm sure it's all perfect and magical like Hogwarts or… I don't know, whatever. But everyone back at school misses you." His voice dropped until he was murmuring. "I miss you."
I had to break the moment before I lost my grip on reality. "I'm sure your hockey buddies don't miss me so much. And Blaine's not my boyfriend you know." He looked surprised and relieved. I continued. "He's just a friend. Though he has seemed much more interested lately…" I looked at him meaningfully.
I could tell Karofsky wasn't the boy I used to know anymore. I wasn't sure who he was now, then. But I knew deep down that I wanted to find out. So I challenged him. "What are you going to do about that?"
"What do you mean, Hummel?" He looked desperate. I decided to just come right out and tell him, trying not to let him know just how little he really had to convince me. "I need you to give me a reason, Karofsky. I need you to give me a reason to come back. I felt like I lived in a hellhole there. I was miserable. I had nothing. Here, I have safety. Here, I have the promise that no one – especially you and your 'Puck-head' buddies – can hurt me anymore. And here, I have Blaine. And he's wonderful!" At that, Karofsky's face held a strong sense of jealousy and… heartbreak?
"I'm not going to give that all up easily. So I'm going to say it again, Karofsky. Give me a reason!"
He finally got it.
In a matter of seconds, Karofsky's face dropped any negative emotion he had had before, leaving nothing but undeniable attraction and obvious determination in its place. He stepped forward and put his strong hand on my waist, pulling me close. His other hand reached up towards my face. I could feel him slowly brush his soft, warm fingers across the side of my neck and across my jaw line up to the skin behind my ear.
I shivered again, and then closed my eyes, enjoying the warm sensation spreading through me. I could feel him let his hand wander to the back of my head, where he softly stroked my hair, then left his hand cupping the side of my neck, much like he had that day in the locker room. I could feel his warm breath fusing with mine as he whispered.
"Here's your reason, Hummel."
Then his lips pressed against mine so softly I could barely feel them. It was a perfect scene. It was a perfect kiss.
So why didn't it feel like enough?
He pulled away quickly, looking at me cautiously, like he expected to have done something wrong; like he was afraid I would run away. But I wouldn't. I was done running.
I smirked, deciding to put my manipulative provoking skills to good use. "What was that, Karofsky? You call that a reason? I could feel something in the last kiss, that day in the locker room. I could tell you meant it. Do you not mean it this time?" I challenged him. He knew I was teasing enough to keep him from being offended, but serious enough that he knew I was… well, serious.
We stared at each other for a moment before he got it, and leaned in again, this time more quickly and much less carefully than before.
Now this was a reason. I could feel everything he'd been bottling up inside for God only knows how long. I could feel that he wanted me and that he wanted to prove it. I could feel his enormous combination of attraction and frustration and happiness and jealousy and overall passion. I could feel the promise of the end of violence, but the frustration at the knowledge that this still wouldn't be public for a while. For that moment, though… I simply didn't care.
It was different than before. Our very first kiss had been violent and angry. This was just as passionate, but there was no anger and no violence. It was slow and smoldering and real. It was pure desire.
It was amazing how all consuming a good kiss could be. All thought flew right out of my brain and instinct took over. I vaguely found myself grabbing the front of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. He let his hands drag themselves from my neck and waist down to wrap me around the middle, squeezing even tighter. His lips started moving even more determinedly against mine.
It almost scared me for a minute. I wondered how I was going to breathe. He solved that problem by breaking away just enough to kiss eagerly down right below my jaw line and all the way down the side of my neck.
I took a few shallow breaths and softly moaned in satisfaction, practically melting as I did so. This was fantastic. One of my hands went from grabbing his shirtfront to clutching the top of his arm. The other hand went behind his neck, gripping his hair and neck tightly.
Somehow, he found his way to a wall on the side of the hallway and pinned me against it, his lips now reaching the skin where my neck met my shoulder and his hands keeping my hips glued to the wall – and his hips glued to mine. It wouldn't have mattered, but he hardly knew his own strength and pinned a little harder than necessary. I let out an involuntary "Oompf", and the glorious moment was broken. Damn.
He broke away immediately, making sure I wasn't hurt. I laughed. It was such a different reaction to my own pain from Karofsky that it would take some getting used to.
He narrowed his eyes at me; probably thinking I was crazy, or making fun of him. I quickly let him in on my personal joke. "Don't worry. I'm just not used to seeing you so concerned for my well-being. That's all." He let out a laugh, too. Then he sobered up, and asked, "Did I hurt you?" He was so worried; it was actually kind of adorable.
"I wouldn't worry about it too much. I bruise like a fabulously dressed peach, and you play in a brutal sport where the main goal is slamming three hundred pound Neanderthals against unbreakable walls. Besides, this isn't even the first time I've been slammed into a wall by you. This is just the first time I haven't really minded." He flinched. I ignored him and continued. "It's just something we're going to have to get used to." Confusion flashed across his face, until he fully absorbed my words. "You mean… you'll come back?"
I seriously thought about it for a second. I flashed back to everything he and his friends had done to me. It wasn't pretty. So I tried to bargain. "Look, Karofsky…"
I started, surprised at his interruption. "Huh?"
"My name is Dave." He smiled humorlessly. "After what we just did, I think it's safe to call each other by our first names. Don't you?" Hmm. Dave.
It seemed I finally figured out who the boy he had become was. The horrible bully who made my life miserable was Karofsky. This sweet boy who cared about me and missed me was Dave. I liked it.
"Ok, Dave." He visibly relaxed at his name. I continued. "I haven't by a long shot forgotten how I was treated at McKinley." I gestured between the two of us with the hand that had been gripping the top of his arm. "This little make-out session we just had doesn't erase all that. Though I must say; it was pretty hot." I smiled at him and absentmindedly started to softly run my fingertips up and down the back of his neck.
He didn't smile back. He just shivered slightly at my touch and tightened his grip around my waist. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. There was no excuse for what I did to you. Any of it. Well…" He finally smiled a little. He brought one hand up and brushed away a stray piece of hair that had fallen out of place. "Actually I do have an excuse for kissing you without your permission. It wasn't the best way to go, but do you even know how adorable you are when you're yelling?"
I looked at him, surprised. "I'm adorable?" He was about to respond, but I cut him off. "Actually, don't answer that. I know I'm adorable. But you're making me lose my train of thought." He smiled, 'locked his lips' and 'threw away the key'. Then, he looked at me expectantly.
I took a deep breath. "I'm not going to come back right away. I need to know that you've changed. So, I'm going to keep tabs on you through my friends in Glee club. I need to know that you've stopped harassing them."
He nodded somberly, and then waited for me to continue. "Also, I don't expect you to change from 'I'm going to beat the ever-loving crap out of the Hummel kid just because he's gay' Karofsky to 'the Hummel kid is my boyfriend now, oh yeah and by the way, I'm gay' Dave overnight. I'm not saying that we should hold hands down the hall or that you should walk me to all my classes – though that would be amazing." I smiled at him. He didn't smile back.
"But you need to not be my bully anymore. If anything, we need to at least be friends at school. I can start by tutoring you in French. It'll be a perfect cover – considering how bad your grade is – for you to explain to your 'friends'. We can go from there. How does that sound?" He thought it over for a minute, looking into my eyes.
Finally, he pulled me in so I was pressed against his chest. He leaned his head on mine. I heard him sigh. "That sounds good, I guess. I wish you'd come back right away, but I'll just have to deal with it." We just stood there like that for a few moments. The calm silence was comfortable, without any awkwardness. I loved it.
He broke the moment too soon. "And Kurt?" I leaned away from his chest to look into his eyes. "I just want to let you know that I want to do all that, too. You have no idea how much I want to walk down the hallway holding your hand. Or walk you to every single one of your classes. And it's going to be harder than you know not to grab you and kiss you every time I pass you in the hall."
"I know, Dave. Look, my dad's not going to be so keen on you coming over to my house to study. Neither is Finn. Why don't you come here every Wednesday and we can work on your French grade. Ok? There's this nice library here that no one bothers to go to after school's out. The first thing we can do is make out a study guide." I looked at him with mischievous eyebrow raise. He got it right away. He smiled widely and squeezed my waist. "That sounds great."
I dragged my hand softly from behind his neck to down the side of it, letting it stay there. I went on tiptoe and kissed him softly.
Well, he wasn't having that. He leaned down towards me and kissed me with more eagerness, pressing me against the wall. Again, I got lost in the feel of his warm lips. Soft, but unbelievably masculine. Firm, but flexible.
I heard his not-so-soft moan in the back of his throat when I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The noise sent fireworks up and down my body. I love kissing!
After a few more minutes of making out in the middle of the Dalton hallway, I broke away. Dave was breathless, looking happier than I had ever seen him. I felt the exact same way, and was just as breathless, but I managed to speak. "That will have to last you until next Wednesday. I really do have to go. It's nearly 9:00, and my dad's going to freak if I'm home later than that on a school night."
He was still having trouble breathing, so it took him a minute to respond. "I guess you're right." I reluctantly broke away from his grip to grab my forgotten bag. I didn't even know how long we had maintained contact, but I didn't care. Without him near me, I felt cold. Like someone took away my personal space heater. I shivered once. He noticed and grabbed my hand immediately. "You mind if I walk you to your car?" I grinned up at him. "Not at all."
As we walked to my car in more comfortable silence, I thought about what I was doing. I was practically dating Dave Karofsky now, my former tormentor. The reason I left McKinley in the first place. What are you thinking?
It would take some explaining to my friends and family, but I knew it was worth it. I knew he wouldn't hurt me anymore. Somehow, this was going to work out.
When we reached my car, I turned towards him, leaning against the driver's side door. Without saying anything, he brought his other hand up to my face, brushed my cheek lightly with his thumb, and kissed me softly.
Not softly like before, when he was still afraid I'd run away. Softly, but with the same fervor from our make-out sessions. It was beautiful. And it still felt like something. It still gave me chills and put large, wonderful knots in my stomach.
When he broke away, I still had my eyes closed, my lips following his of their own accord. It took me a second to realize he'd stopped.
He laughed softly. "Go home, Kurt. It's freezing out here. I'll see you on Wednesday." He squeezed my hand once before letting go. I pouted. "Fine. I'm going." I exhaled in mock impatience. "See you Wednesday." I turned around and climbed in. I started the car and pulled out, blowing him a kiss as I did so. He beamed.
The last I saw of him before pulling out of the empty parking lot was him jumping around happily, fist pumping like crazy, like a five-year-old boy who just got his first video game. I broke out laughing and couldn't stop until I was literally choking on my own laughter, halfway to my house.
This was definitely a Dave Karofsky I could grow to love. My lips were still tingling. Wednesday couldn't get here soon enough.