himself as being on the right side of average. He washed and shaved and kept in decent shape. He’d been told he had nice eyes, but then he was pretty sure nobody ever said, Darling, your eyes are really close-set and piggy tonight.
Some kind of panic must have shown on his face, because Sanee suddenly started talking again. “Sorry, dude. It’s just, well, you’re a dude, and I’m a dude, and I’m trying to be supportive here, but I’m looking at you now, and I don’t fancy you, and I’m having a hard time seeing why anyone would.”
“Thanks, mate. Way to build me up before my big date.”
Tinuviel glanced up from Hawkeye. “I don’t fancy Drew either—”
“Should I just kill myself now?”
“—but,” she went on, “I can see why somebody else might.”
“Wow,” said Drew, “see praise comma faint colon damning with.”
She blinked at him. “It doesn’t matter what we think. It matters what Kit thinks.”
“So no pressure, then.”
“It’ll be fine. Do you mind if I borrow this?” She waved the trade paperback as casually as a geek was capable of treating a comic.
Drew had the feeling his friends weren’t taking his concerns seriously. “Yeah, go on, then. You might as well take volume two as well.”
While Sanee and Tinuviel were busy with Hawkeye, he went over to his wardrobe and peered inside like he was looking for Narnia. He hesitated to ask, but he had trouble picking date clothes at the best of times. “Um, guys, which T-shirt should I wear?”
“Dude.” Sanee twisted round. “Maybe you could try wearing an actual shirt like a grown-up.”
“Or a schoolkid. Why don’t I put on a stripey tie and a blazer as well?”
“Bit kinky for a first date.”
Drew gave a long-suffering sigh and reluctantly pulled out his one good shirt. “I feel like I’m going to an interview.”
Sanee flipped into lecture mode. “Basically, mate, you are. That’s what a date is. It’s like a sex interview. So you need to dress up for it. Seriously, you won’t regret it. I wore a shirt for my first date with Steff. Chicks love that stuff.” There was a pause. “Although . . . that may not be pertinent to this situation.”
“I don’t care what my date is wearing,” offered Tinuviel helpfully, “as long as it reflects their essential self.”
Drew shoved his shirt back in the wardrobe. “I’m going with the essential-self plan.” He started grabbing T-shirts and holding them up to his chest. Feelings are boring, kissing is awesome probably looked a shade desperate, and he was afraid if he wore I will do science to it, he’d actually have to know about science, which would be embarrassing since Kit actually did.
“How about this?” He waved I’m not slacking off, my code’s compiling.
Sanee flinched. “No way, man. The way xkcd’s gone recently, he’ll think you’ve got terrible taste in webcomics and it’ll all be over.”
“So I’m a minger with terrible taste in clothes and webcomics?”
“If it’s any consolation, he’s probably just as big a loser as you are.”
“Well, at least you’ve stopped being weirded out he’s a guy.”
Sanee grinned.
Drew disappeared back into his wardrobe and finally emerged. “Okay, I think I’ve found the perfect one.”
They stared at him in polite bemusement.
“I think it works,” said Tinuviel, finally. “It’s very you.”
Sanee seemed less convinced. “So, you’re saying that your essential self is ‘A wizard has turned you into a whale. Is this awesome? Y/N’?”
Drew shrugged. “I think it’ll make him laugh.”
An hour later, he was anxiously circling the designated Starbucks, trying to psych himself up to go in.
To be honest, he couldn’t figure out what scared him most: the possibility that he wouldn’t fancy Kit, or the possibility that he would.
Finally, he pulled himself together and walked through the door. It wasn’t particularly crowded in there, and he scanned the tables looking for . . . what? Someone ordinary and blondish and reading a book.
There was only one guy reading. Or, at least, only one guy reading a paper book.
But if Drew’d had to describe him, he wouldn’t have gone with ordinary.
He’d been expecting some kind of hopeless geek-boy. But the young man at the table was, well . . . elegant, somehow, his chin propped on one long-fingered hand as he read.
Drew was really beginning to wish he’d worn a shirt.
Kit was wearing a shirt—a dark-blue one with embroidery down the sleeves—and his hair was blondish, as he’d said, but it was a rich, dark gold, slightly curly at the ends, as if he had