Page 26 of What If It's You?

As he padded over to his dresser, I took a few deep breaths, trying to reorient myself in this room, this body, thislife.Some part of me had really believed I’d wake up and this would be over, that my abortive attempt to sleep my way back to the right reality had failed only because of my overactive brain, not a flawed principle. That I’d wake up next to Ollie again and the entire previous day would have just been a really strange, extremely involved dream. That’s how it always happened in movies, after all.

But no. I was still in the wrong world, with the wrong man and his daily morning wood, and I had no idea how to deal with any of the above.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the tray ceiling. That was a nice detail. There were so many nice details in this life. Upgraded features, small luxuries like the fancier face cream, frictionless taskseverywhere—the condo had clearly been cleaned while I was out the previous day, the fridge and pantry restocked to boot. And thank god, the too-healthy deliberately-forgotten-grains granola seemed to have been the dry goods equivalent of wearing your swimsuit bottoms on laundry day because you’ve run out of underwear.

But that didn’t make this world, or this life, feel like itbelongedto me. Yes, I cared about Drew, even found myself regularly falling into the easy rhythm I remembered from our friendship, and for a few minutes, the idea of spending a life with him felt…if not perfect, at least possible, an intriguing path I might have taken, might still want to take.

But none of that made the ache in my chest whenever I thought of Ollie, of waking up with a faceful of cat fur between us and our hands clasped, disappear. In some ways it just sharpened it.

This life had so much to offer, all kinds of things I’d always wanted. But it didn’t have silly songs to cheer me up when I was nervous or feeling low. Didn’t have spontaneous day trips to some “cool little spot” up the coast that Ollie thought I’d like—I’d managed to unearth Drew’s and my shared calendar during my afternoon attempts to memorize the basics of our life, and judging from its regimented blocks, spontaneity in any form didn’t seem very likely. This life didn’t have the bevy of quirky, inspiring friends Ollie and I had accumulated, most of them artists of some variety or another—musicians, illustrators, poets—who refused to let the realities of adulthood, and their often lackluster day jobs, snuff out their spark. And even though I hadn’t written a thing since Ollie and I had been together, had no right to call myself a writer in that world, everyone accepted me as a creative person too, treated the occasional ideas for a novel I spouted off over drinks at some cool new music venue or beloved dive as though they had value. And Ollie was always the most enthusiastic one, eyes warm with pride as he asked exactly the right questions to convince everyone, at least for a moment, that the idea had legs, that this time I might really dothe thing. Hell, he even convinced me sometimes. Here Iwasa writer, had given up the grind to do it, but none of the stories I’d started felt half as interesting as the ones I’d shared with Ollie and our friends, and in a way, I felt less authentically creative here, even though writing was ostensibly my career.

But really, the biggest thing that was missing in this life was just…Ollie. I knew that this life couldn’t exist with him, that the fundamental splitwashim, but the idea of never seeing him again tore a hole in my center.

“Were you gonna shower?” Drew said as he rifled through his underwear drawer. “It’s your day.”

“Right. Umm…yeah, I should get moving, huh?” Drew glanced back at me, smiling his agreement. I threw the covers off and headed for the bathroom, the same leaden feeling I’d had while I forced down the all-super-seeds granola weighing me down.We scheduled whose day it was to shower?It was practical, but the whole “life optimization” vibe made me a little sad.

I quickly showered, did my makeup, and dressed, finding a pair of leather-fronted leggings in the bottom drawer that felt alittlemore like me than the luxurious office wear that filled most of the others. By the time I was done, Drew was in the kitchen sipping a mug of coffee.

“Are those new?” He nodded to the pants, lips quirking with interest.

“No, I just haven’t worn them in a while.”

“You should wear them more. They’re…different. But in a good way.” His eyelids lowered suggestively as he handed me a mug across the breakfast bar. I laughed and took a grateful sip.

“Thanks. For the confidence boost and for this.” I raised my mug to him in a little toast. “It’s so nice to have a cup of coffee waiting.”

“That’s why we do it, right?” Drew smiled at me over the rim of his mug. “I’d love to stay and talk—or, you know, reconsider that rain check.” His eyes telescoped me again. Clearly World D Laurelneeded to update her wardrobe a little. “But sadly, I need to head in early.”

“Oh. Right, of course.” I frowned. Drew hadn’t made it home from the office until almost eight the night before, and he’d spent most of the evening working. “Any particular reason?”

If he’d already told me, I could just “remember” the reason as soon as he said it,Oh right, I forgot that was today.It should probably unnerve me how easy it was to just slide sideways into a life with the absolute bare minimum of knowledge and a few cover-your-ass phrases. Turned out there was a surprising amount you could fake your way through if you looked the part.

“Jim was messaging last night while you were getting ready for bed, he said he’d let me set him up on AltR this morning before his first stand-up.”

“Oh? What’s the angle?”

“Angle?” Drew scrunched up his nose. “He’s offering to go through the whole calibration sequence first thing, then planning to commit however many more hours just to help us train the AI. I told you we need as many users as possible right now. If anyone is benefiting here, it’s me.”

“You sure he isn’t trying to sabotage you from the inside?” I waggled my eyebrows mischievously. “Maybe he’ll try to go back to the inflection point where you’re assigned to lead this team and make sure it’s him instead. Oh, or maybe he’ll go back to the nightbeforeyour presentation to the senior staff and give you norovirus so you miss the meeting entirely and then he can claim all the credit.”

“He’s interested in what I’m doing and he wants to help. Why is that so hard to believe?” Drew’s lip curled with disgust. “What’s your problem with Jim, anyway?”

I blinked. It hadn’t occurred to me that Drew might have formed an alliance—possibly even a friendship?—with JimDonovan. In World O he was our mutual nemesis, Drew’s biggest fear in senior-level meetings specifically because his sneeringI’m not convincedattitude flustered Drew. SurelyJimwouldn’t have changed in this world.

But that sneaking suspicion that Drewhad—changed—flared to life again. I glanced at his plain black shirt and slim black jeans, an updated rip-off of Steve Jobs.Why was he different?

“He just always tries to pick everything apart.”

“That’s how you make something better. You find the bugs and correct them.”

“Sure. But with Jim it feels…petty. Especially since he only ever does it when there’s an audience. It’s a lot easier to find fault than it is to build something.” Drew was still eyeing me, wary. “I just don’t want him latching on to this and finding a way to steal your thunder. You’re the genius behind this thing, not Jim.”

Drew’s expression softened, and he reached up to cup my cheek with his palm.

“I love that you’re in my corner, but trust me, I don’t have anything to worry about from Jim. The guy can barely code, no one’s gonna thinkhecame up with this, no matter how many meetings I miss.” Drew laughed, rolling his eyes at Jim’s obvious inferiority. “I won’t be able to start staffing up until we officially get the green light from the board, but it’s just a formality at this point, the entire senior team is behind AltR. Which they’re very aware ismyprogram.” Drew took a long sip of coffee, gaze turning thoughtful. “Honestly…I think Jim just wants a chance to work on something interesting. Maybe he figures if he goes out of his way to help now, I’ll bring him onto my team down the line. I feel bad for the guy, really. He knows he’s vestigial.”

Clearly this version of Drew was a lot more confident of his place in the pecking order.That’s what was different. The confidence.Not that Drew had ever had self-esteem issues—he was at least as opinionated as I was, and he dug inhardwhen he was convinced he was right, which was often—but this Drew seemed awash with self-assurance, not even protesting the dreaded “gword.” There was something unexpectedly appealing about it, but it was also disorienting. It made me realize that I’d been operating on the assumption that this Drew was fundamentally the same as the one Iknew…but if he was different in this way, what else about him might have changed?

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