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of those people who can’t tell the difference between real life and video games. I’m not going to die of exhaustion in a café in South Korea.”
“I dunno.” Sanee rocked the chair onto its back legs. “I think you might be heading that way. You used to play Mondays and Wednesdays. Then it went up to Monday, Wednesday, Friday. And you were there on Thursday and Tuesday. And it sounds like this game is most of what you do with your weekends as well. That’s not a hobby, mate, that’s an addiction.”
Drew let the laptop bag slump to the ground. “Wow, you went there really fast. Especially when I know for a fact you put a hundred and eleven hours into Skyrim.”
“It’s not the same. Like, if you were an alcoholic—”
“There’s no way I’m going to be able to put up with the end of that sentence.”
“I’m serious, Drew. I’m trying to help you here.” The chair crashed onto its front feet, as Sanee leaned forward intently. “Being an addict isn’t about how much you do something, it’s about feeling you have to do it all the time.”
“Have you been on Wikipedia again?”
“You’re not even going to think about it, are you? If you didn’t know I was right, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”
“I’m acting like this—” Drew wasn’t quite shouting “—because I’m late to see my boyfriend—my real, actual, physical, real-life boyfriend—and you burst in here and called me a junkie.” He hoisted up his laptop bag again and stomped out. “Make sure the door locks when you decide you’re ready to leave.”
He was still pretty shaky by the time he got off the bus at the Botanic Gardens. Because, actually, Sanee had been wrong when he’d accused Drew of brushing off his concerns. Right back when he’d first met Solace, he’d been worried that “she” didn’t seem to have anything in her life outside HoL and studying. And, honestly, there’d been a part of him that had secretly liked the fantasy of coming into this person’s life and drawing them out of their shell and into the real world. But now it looked like the opposite was happening.
Drew had always been quite proud that he was a gamer who wasn’t like gamers were supposed to be. He played sports, he was not completely socially awkward, he’d had girlfriends and . . . a boyfriend. He went to the pub with his mates like ordinary people did. Yes, they sometimes talked about video games while they were there, but that just happened to be a common interest. One of the things he’d liked about raiding with Anni was that the game was a means to an end. Every single person in that guild wanted to prove that they could compete at the top level. It wasn’t about HoL, it was about the challenge. And after he’d left, it had been really nice to hook up with people who appreciated the sunsets and elves part of the game, but part of the problem with appreciating a virtual world was that you began to treat it like a real one.
He passed the spot where he and Kit had first kissed, and that cheered him up a bit. Worrying about his game/life balance suddenly seemed a lot less important than having met someone he really, really liked. Who he was going to see right now. And whose evening he didn’t want to wreck by dumping all this crap on him.
He resolved not to think about it. And even managed to forget about it completely when Kit opened the door, smiling and looking sufficiently gorgeous that Drew had a rush of oh my God, I can’t believe I’m dating this guy so intense it knocked basically everything else out of his head.
“So—” Kit gave a slightly self-conscious flourish “—I’ve sort of done a . . . sort of picnic. Which it belatedly occurs to me that we could have had outside. But it’s all set up now.”
He’d laid a tartan blanket (which looked new enough that Drew suspected he’d bought it specially) on the floor, and put out a variety of breads, cheeses, cakes, and fruit. It was probably the most romantic thing that had ever happened to Drew, since most of his dates had followed a very set format and he’d never quite had the confidence to suggest anything more controversial than dinner and a movie.
Kit appeared to be accidentally enacting the /shy animation. “I hope it’s okay. I thought we