Page 15 of What If It's You?

“No, don’t call anyone.” I pinched my eyes shut, shaking my head rapidly. This didn’t make sense, it was all wrong, but it washappening.I was in bed with Drew, and it wasn’t the result of some somnambulatory booty call—he seemed to think this was just a normal morning. Which meant I must be actingverystrangely right now.

The program.

It had to be…right? I reached up cautiously, feeling around my head for the edges of the swim cap-style AltR rig, focusing on my real, physical body the way I’d been able to when Drew first showed me the demo. I couldrememberpulling it off last night, could remember walking home from the office. But it had to be what was causing this. I must still be running it…somehow.

But my fingers just met slightly night-mussed hair, and try as I might, I couldn’t feel my body existing somewhere else, staring atthe inside of the headset screen. Besides, the program had asked for a point where paths had diverged in thepast,it’s what the demo had shown too, and this felt very much like the present. Unless…

“Just…What’s the date?”

“Are yousureI don’t need to call anyone, Laurel? That sounds a lot like—”

“Just answer the question, Drew,” I said, a flash of annoyance in my chest that felt both totally familiar and utterly foreign.

“It’s September nineteenth,” he said, staring thoughtfully at me. “Twenty twenty-five.”

“I know theyear,” I said, only realizing I hadn’t known that for certain until he’d confirmed it. But anxiety sounded close enough to exasperation, apparently, because Drew shrugged as though it had settled a point. But if that was right, then…it wastomorrow. I’d woken up in Drew’s bed not in some hypothetical past, but in thefuture.Or, well…the present, one that should be taking place somewhere across town, next to a different man, clad inverydifferent sleepwear.

What in god’s name was Drewbuildingbehind those frosted doors?

I exhaled shakily, eyes closed, then summoned all my reserves of calm as I opened them on Drew.Just pretend you’re presenting to the C-suite.

“Sorry, I was having areallyvivid dream, when I woke up I just felt…disoriented.” I glanced down at the navy satin slip skimming over me, the thin fabric seemingly chosen to accentuate my nipples, standing at attention in the slightly chilly air of the bedroom. “It didn’t help to look down and see that I’m dressed like the seductress in some forties-era noir film.”

After all, whatever was happening, I seemed to still beme. And I couldn’t imagine any version of me regularly going to bed in something like this, slinky and strappy and riding up my hips and slipping off my breasts in ways that would have to besuperannoying as you rolled around in wrong-colored sheets trying to find a comfortablesleep position. Drew’s nose wrinkled slightly, and for a moment I worried that I’d miscalculated, but then he laughed, the same staccato burst that was familiar from years of friendship, as though delight had crept up from behind and surprised him.

“What can I say? I had a vision. I wanted to wait until our anniversary, but…” He shrugged, then reached over casually, hand trailing over the side of my waist. I forced myself not to flinch at the intimate touch, heart hummingbirding again. “I’m glad I didn’t. It’s so much better in real life.”

His fingers skimmed down my hip, along my thigh, lingered on the hem of the flimsy nightie, and I could barely breathe with how wrong it was—what would I do if he took things further? But desire was swirling through my core, lazy but definitelythere—did some part of mewantthings to go further? How guilty should that make me feel?

Fortunately for my anxiety-spiraling brain, after toying with the fabric between finger and thumb for a few long moments, Drew sighed contentedly and sat up.

“If I didn’t have an early meeting this morning…” He shook his head, rueful, eyes twinkling with desire. I could feel my shoulders loosen with relief. “You might need to wear that again tonight.”

“I’m not making any promises. Seductresses must get really tangled in the sheets.”

Drew laughed and flipped the covers off him.

“Oh!” I couldn’t help the exclamation, hand jumping to my mouth. Drew glanced over his shoulder as he stood, eyebrow raised in question.

“Everything alright?” He laced his fingers together overhead, tilting from side to side to stretch out his shoulders. The muscles in his bare ass—easily as well defined as the ones in his stomach—tensed at the movement. Desire pulsed hot between my legs, undeniable this time.

“Fine,” I chirped, staring at his ass…and at the lingering morning hard-on that was visible when he turned. I’d never gotten so faras imagining Drew’s dick—him kissing me, sure, once or twice, but my fantasies had always been more idle than anatomically precise. Still, I was confident this was…morethan I’d ever have dreamed up if I’d let myself go there.

Drew grinned as he noticed my stare.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Something like that,” I murmured, guilt washing away the lust. Mostly. “Early meeting, go.” I made a shooing motion, and, with a last grin, Drew ambled across the large bedroom and pulled open the door to what looked like a very fancy bathroom.

“You sure you’re okay?” he said over his shoulder.

“Positive. Just a dream.” It felt traitorous dismissing Ollie, really my entirelife,but…I reached my hand to my head again, feeling around the edges for the swim cap that should be there if this was something I could just pull the plug on. But it wasn’t—there—which meant that whatever the program had done to deposit me here, I had no immediate ideas about how to reverse it. Until I figured out what was going on, ranting about my “actual” life in another universe probably wasn’t the best tack to take.

Hearing the thrum of the shower turning on, I rose from the bed, moving around the room cautiously, as though something might jump out from a dark corner.

I made my way to the long, low dresser opposite the foot of the bed, its minimalist lines and blond wood vaguely midcentury. It was attractive, upscale, the kind of furniture I’d always thought of as forrealgrownups, apparently eliminating myself from that dataset. In fact…I spun around slowly, taking in the slate-gray walls with simple white crown molding, heavy floor-length velvet curtains, light gray padded headboard in a blond wood surround. The whole room felt very chic, cohesive in a way you saw in design magazines,intentional. Other than the stacks of books on either nightstand, and the sprinkles of jewelry clustered around the bases of the two organizers sitting on top of the dresser, there was nothing out of place. Either Drew didn’t need help remembering to pick up the towels, or this version of me had averyregular cleaning service.Assuming I lived here with him? Drew had mentioned an anniversary, but not which one. And while Ollie and I had moved in together within mere months, I had a feeling Drew wasn’t as much of a caution-to-the-winds type.

As I finished my assessment, I jumped when I noticed a strange woman staring back at me through the…mirror?

---