his own personal stylist hanging out backstage.
Basically, he looked like a catalogue model, or the popular one in a boyband. Kind of slim and lean and clean-cut. The sort of guy you could take home to meet your mum.
He glanced up, saw Drew, and gave him a slightly quizzical, slightly hopeful expression.
And Drew had no choice but to walk over there and pretend he wasn’t totally outclassed.
“Solace?” he said. Shit. “I mean, uh, Kit, right?”
The boy nodded and, slowly, a little bit shyly, smiled. It was a good smile. Partially because it was a touch hesitant, like he didn’t give it to just anyone. “Hi, Drew.”
Drew panicked. “I’m just going to grab myself a coffee. Do you want anything?”
Kit nodded towards the mug already on the table. “I’m fine.”
Right. Okay. Stupid question. “Be right back.”
There was a longish queue, which was sort a relief and sort of not. It gave him time to freak out at a safe distance while he was pretending to pick a muffin. But he was still close enough that he was very aware of Kit, well, being there. Being a real, physical person, and not just a bundle of internet. And he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to be looking, or not looking, or smiling, or waving, or what.
Things were so much easier on a rock in a cave under a swamp.
He got himself a latte and, since he’d been staring at them, a white chocolate and raspberry muffin, and mooched back to sit down.
“Uh, hi,” he said. “Uh, again. Uh, how are you?”
Kit put his book aside. “Honestly? I’m still a bit nervous.”
For some reason that really helped. “Shit, me too.”
They grinned at each other, kind of awkward, kind of not.
“We missed you at the raid on Monday.”
“Sorry. I’m trying to get this water to look right. It’s even less interesting than it sounds. Who MTed?”
“Morag, and Bjorn brought his tanking alt. So that was fun.”
Kit looked so rueful that Drew had to laugh. “How’d it go?”
“Oh, it was fine, he OTs for us all the time. He’s just very Bjorn about it.” His voice slipped into a fairly effective imitation of Bjorn’s self-satisfied drawl. “Don’t worry, this was my main back in vanilla. Did I tell you about the time I soloed Dreadwing after my entire raid died of being noobs?”
Drew grinned. “I dare you to do that in front of him.”
“Gosh, no, he’d shard all my loot for a month.” He paused for a moment. “Also, I think it might make him genuinely sad. He’s quite sensitive really.”
“What, Bjorn?” Drew blinked. “Like . . . Bjorn Bjorn?”
“Well, you don’t carry on that way if you don’t care what people think of you.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve got a mate like that. He’s kind of a dick as well, but I guess he gets away with it because he’s kind of dick at you, not to you.” Remembering Monday, Drew grimaced. “At least, most of the time.”
“That’s a pretty subtle distinction.” Kit gave him a slightly teasing look over the rim of his mug, and Drew felt somewhere between flustered and pleased. And had no idea how to look back.
“I mean,” he went on, “Sanee’s not nasty to anyone. He just kind of is who he is, and sometimes that’s a bit annoying. But if you tell him he’s being annoying, he’ll try to be less annoying.” He remembered Monday again. “At least, most of the time.”
“Truly, that is the meaning of friendship.”
Drew gave him a mock scowl. “Are you taking the piss?”
“Well, yes and no. Mainly yes. But I also think there’s something really nice about having people you can be yourself with, but who you can trust to tell you when yourself is being a dick.”
“I can’t really imagine you being a dick.”
“Hey, I could be a dick if I wanted.”
It was probably a bad moment to suddenly notice that they were saying the word dick a lot, and Drew felt himself blushing for no reason. “So how’s the book?”
Kit grinned wickedly at him. “Wow, way to imperceptibly change the subject.”
“Sorry, we were just kind of on a dick train and I wasn’t sure how to get off.”
The grin vanished. “Sorry, was I making you uncomfortable?”
He honestly wasn’t sure. He didn’t feel exactly cosy, sitting there talking about dicks with the guy he was on a date with, but he couldn’t tell if that was just him being weird. It wasn’t like he’d be talking about vaginas with a girl he’d fancied.
Tinuviel