Chapter 45: To Date or Not to Date

Hugh managed to stay calm through dinner, but the knowing glances Dex kept sending him combined with Frankie's constantly rosy cheeks made him wonder what the hell he'd been thinking when he'd phrased it the way he did.

'It's a date.'

"Holy shit, I have a date," he said, throwing himself on his bed once Frankie left for his own hotel room across the hall. The room they were in was an instanced space accessed by an elevator in the hotel lobby.

Even with purchasing a base upgrade package, the room was like any economy hotel room they could have reserved in the real world with stiff sheets, a noisy air conditioner, and questionable stains in the shower floor. However, since this was Thrive, a holographic panel next to the door offered a plethora of further room upgrades ranging from a bigger bed to the Presidential Suite Package. He'd already used one upgrade to create a bigger dining table so he could summon dinner without half of it ending up on the floor, another to make his bed bigger, and a final one to upgrade his bathroom.

"You have two dates," Dex corrected. "Nice work extorting dinner out of him. I didn't think you had it in you."

Hugh nervously licked his lips as he tried to figure out what had happened. At what point had he started flirting with the Doc or sent out signals he was interested in that way? And why hadn't the Doc corrected him when he called it a date? There was no way a man like Frankie wasn't married or, at the very least, already dating someone in his own social circle. Sure, the guy was probably in his late forties or early fifties, but he wasn't one of those wrinkly old farts who cried about how his body was failing and did nothing about it. Frankie was more like those suave gentlemen in movies who rescued a street rat and made them fit for polite society.

What did that make Hugh?

Frankie was a doctor, so he had money. He probably dressed well when he wasn't trying to adapt to a new world order and he obviously worked out—not only had he admitted as much, but Hugh had seen his body for himself when they'd first met. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him. He truly had the body of a twenty year old. On top of that, he was smart and had the college degree to prove it.

"This has to be that whatchamacallit bridging effect," Hugh said. "You know, where people fall for the person who saves them. There's no way Doc would look twice at a guy like me under normal circumstances."

"Stop trying to self-destruct," Dex replied, reaching out to tousle Hugh's hair. "Does it matter what his reasons are? He likes you. I can tell. Do you not like him? Because it sure seemed like you did and I know he's your type—he shares a lot of my attributes."

Hugh gaped, struggling for a way to respond to such an outrageous statement, only to realize he had absolutely nothing to say in his defense. Frankie really could be a slightly older, slightly smaller version of Dex. Not all of their features translated, such as Doc's lack of chin scruff, but there was enough similarity they could be brothers.

"You did something," Hugh said accusingly. "I don't know what or how or when, but you set this up."

"I admit to nothing," Dex replied with a laugh. "Besides, does it matter? You're the one who stepped up and got him to agree to dinner. And you're the one who made plans to go running with him. I had nothing to do with that. If it works out between the two of you, then great. If it doesn't, then it doesn't. Stop worrying so much and enjoy the moment."

"But this changes—"

"Nothing," Dex said firmly, finishing Hugh's sentence. "You're still a gamer and you're still planning to go out on adventures, unless you think Doctor Jones is the type to demand you give up your dreams in exchange for a relationship. Even if he were, would that stop you?"

"No," Hugh cautiously admitted. "I've spent my whole life dreaming about living in a game like this. I don't think I could give it up, even if a man like Doc asked me to marry him. But do you think he's the type to be willing to date someone who won't be around half the time? That wouldn't really be fair to him."

"Why don't you ask him instead of making assumptions? For all you know, he'd prefer someone who values their independence. You won't be bugging him at work or making demands on his time like, say, an office worker might. And there's enough differences between you, you'll never run out of conversation. Give it a shot before you start thinking up reasons it wouldn't work and manage to talk yourself out of it."

"When did you become my wing man? I swear I missed when it happened."

Dex smiled down at him and shook his head in exasperation. "I already told you, Hugh. I exist to aid you in all ways. Yes, I could meet your basic need for companionship myself, but if you'll find it more fulfilling to date a fellow player then I'll do everything in my power to help you form a lasting connection with a suitable mate. At the moment, I believe Doctor Jones fits the bill, but only you can decide if he's right for you."

"You're making my head hurt," he complained, seeing no other way out of the discussion. To make certain the subject was closed, he retreated into the bathroom for a long shower.