Page 47 of What If It's You?

As the sky darkened outside our dramatic floor-to-ceiling windows, it became abundantly clear that Drew had no plan to join me. I’d been worried that I’d have to find a way to get him out of the house, or maybe dose him with sleeping pills so I could sneak out of our bedroom in the middle of the night and huddle over my computer in the living room, jumping at every creak, knowing I’d have no explanation if he found me there. But it was now eminently clear: Drew being “here” was an in-name-only situation—Ididn’t have to worry about his looking over my shoulder. Or approaching me at all.

I padded into the bedroom and retrieved my laptop, navigating through MIT’s webpages until I found a picture of Professor Dana Howell in a lab coat, a Mona Lisa smile on her lips as she stared down the viewer. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, wondering if she’d even be able to help, or if I should be looking for someone else, or maybe trying to gain access to Drew’s program. But I had no idea where to start with those options, and maybe the simple fact of finding her in this world would help her genius mind unlock something about my situation?

Or maybe it was just the only idea I had, and I had to dosomething.

Because watching Drew hunched over his screen, lit only by its blue glow, sitting just thirty feet away but totally inaccessible behind his spike-topped barricade of work, I was more certain than I ever had been: I cared about him, and I still had that sparkly feeling sometimes when I caught his eye in the hallways of Pixel,what if?But the life I’d imagined with him was a hothouse flower, stunning when viewed through the wavery glass walls of its carefully controlled environment but destined to bloom differently in the real world. Looking around our pristine apartment, tastefully decorated and perfectly planned and entirely high-end—so covetable the firsttime I saw it that I almost threw my hands up right then and there and went all in on this strange new world—I felt the same way I did at the end of all of the home reno shows I loved:Pretty…but it doesn’t feel like anyone lives there.

I might care about Drew, might even desire him on some level, but the more time I spent here, in the life where I’d chosen him instead, the more certain I was:This isn’t who I’m supposed to be with.

No, forget that. This isn’t who I’m supposed tobe.

I opened a new email and typed in Dana’s address before I could second-guess myself.

SUBJECT: The Rock

Hi, Dana—

You won’t remember me, but we’ve met…just not in this world. I know it’s implausible (but according to younotimpossible), but somehow I’m slipping between two universes, and I need your help to make it stop.

Your first crush, The Rock, would besoimpressed if we figured out what was going on.

And for the record, I agree with you: the man’s built like a god.

I refreshed my inbox every few minutes, but by the time I turned off the TV around ten, she still hadn’t responded. Which just left me in the gigantic soft bed Drew and I shared, wondering if I was doomed to linger in this perfectly appointed but slightly hollow life, coupled with the man of my daydreams but still so very, very alone.

I woke in a nest of limbs, a strong arm slung across my waist, a soft breath warm against my nape. I could feel the hint of an erection against the top of my thighs, and desire threaded through me, tangling into a knot between my legs.

“You’d better be dreaming of me, Ollie,” I murmured.

“Hmm?” I tensed at the sound of Drew’s voice.Of course it’s Drew. This isn’t even your apartment, Laurel.At least not the one I had strong memories of. Luckily, he didn’t seem to have clocked my dropping the wrong name. He rolled away, rubbing his eyes with a knuckle. “What time is it?”

I reached for my phone.

“Umm…early. Just past seven. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmkay,” he mumbled, already taking my advice, then shook his head rapidly, dragging his eyes open. “No, can’t.” He pushed himself up, movements still heavy with sleep. “Flight’s at eleven.”

“Your flight?” As soon as the words came out of my mouth I regretted them—You should know where he’s going, dummy—but Drew’s expression turned sheepish, and he averted his gaze. So this was anewflight. Since yesterday?

“Uhh, yeah. I’m heading out to the Redwood City office? I would have told you last night but you were already asleep.”

“Sorry…why?” My mouth hung open slightly.

“I need to meet with Martin. Chang? He runs the quantum computing team out there, if anyone can figure out what’s going on with AltR, it’s him.”

“So you’re leaving…now?”

“It’s a huge deal that he’s even willing to help, Laurel, I couldn’t exactly tell him next week was more convenient.” Drew’s tone had turned defensive. He rolled off the bed and made his way to the bathroom. “I know it’s not a lot of notice, and I know you’re dealing with some possible medical stuff, but it’s important, okay?”

“Okay,” I murmured, a little shell-shocked. It took me a full ten seconds to realize themedical stuffhe was referring to had to be the series of episodes that precipitated my even being in this room in the first place.

I knew that I should be upset, both from Drew’s reaction and just a basic gut check—jaunting across the country with less than twelve hours’ notice and zero discussion wasn’t exactly my ideal behavior in a partner—but honestly all I felt was relief. What wouldI have done with that boner if Drew had been in a lazy-Sunday-morning mood? It felt like cheating evenbeforeI’d felt sure Drew wasn’t my person.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand, glancing at the notifications before dismissing them. I paused at a headline from theGlobe:

Synesthesia Surprises Fans with Unannounced Set at Drink Moxie! Show

That was the show Ollie and I had been at in World O. But there hadn’t been any surprise performance. And who was Synesthesia, anyway? The headline made it sound like the band must be pretty well known. I clicked the article, mildly curious—anything that Iknewwas different between the worlds was probably important…right?

---