Dear Sam,

I remember thinking, while we waited for your siblings to fall asleep, that I had to be imagining your wandering eyes and the flush of your cheeks. Selfish and stupid of me to think so, but I did, and so I asked you, "Do you still love Quinn?" but what I really meant is, did you ever love Quinn?

And you hesitated, you took a long pause before you answered, and I could see it in the way your eyes glanced down to the left that you weren't telling the whole truth when you said, "Sure."

I was going to say it then, I was really going to ask you. I was going to touch your hand and watch the red color bloom in your cheeks. I was going to find out once and for all.

But you asked me, "Do you love Blaine?"

I remember thinking, how is that any of your business? But fair is fair. I asked you and so you had to ask me.

Did I love Blaine? Did I love anything about but the mere idea of loving him?

I glanced down and to the left and thought you wouldn't catch the hitch of breath when I squeaked, "Sure."

I decided not to ask you.

I went home that night thinking that we were both liars, and we were both too full of questions and half-hearted answers. I think, had I asked, you would have glanced down to your left, and you would have shaken your head, and I might have believed you because you wanted me to. Had I asked, you would have lied.

Do I love Blaine? I love how he makes me feel. I love knowing he's there.

And what about Rebecca? Do you love her, or do you love knowing there's someone who loves you anyways?

We're miles apart, and this question is long overdue and far too late: do you still love me? If you were here right now, would you answer the question, or would you look down and lie?

It's easy to write these things on paper, and it's easy to not say them out loud, but if you had been standing in front of me instead of miles and miles away, you would have not even told half the truth.

Are we both destined to be half-liars?

Love,

Kurt