I force my eyes down to the filthy street and wait for him to go past. It feels like forever that I sense his shocked gaze on me, but it must only be seconds. The whole time, it’s just noise and dark and fear of what’s going to happen if I fuck up. How much worse is this going to get? How am I going to get home?CanI get home?
August’s fingers grip me a little tighter as the moment stretches, then finally, when the sound begins to fade, one of his hands slides up my back, over my shoulder, and down my biceps, where August gives my arm a comforting squeeze. The other hand, the one on my hip, he tightens, and he says into my ear, clear and gentle, “It’s okay. We’ll get you home. I promise.”
All at once, I realise how lost I am. That this man—me—is my only help and my only guide in another world. And I genuinely don’t know how to feel about that, because I am a fuckup, start to finish. I’m a man who can’t even get a full-time job. I’m a man I wouldn’t trust to think me out of a cardboard box.
And yet here I am, completely reliant on me to save me from whatever the hell is going on.
CHAPTER SIX
BAD AUGUST
TO THE RESCUE. SORT OF.
August’s muscles are built. Christ, his arm is so firm. The masculinity is practically dripping from him.
I have got to stop thinking about myself like this.
But he’s not myself. He’s not. So, this is fine.
Better spin him around to have a chat. I need to remember he hasn’t had quite as long as I have to adjust to this situation. Nor has he been watching me go for runs, like I’ve been watching him trotting about in these slutty, practically indecent grey sweatpants. I wonder if he’s wearing anything under there. If he is, it’s not hiding much?—
That’s when I look up and meet his eyes.
He’s really scared.
I must get a grip of myself.
And stop grippingmyselflike this.
I shove my hands in my pockets lest I cling onto his nice arms. “It looks more terrifying than it is. You’ve never experienced a time slip before?”
“No, I’ve never experienced a time slip before, August.”
That kind of sarcasm isn’t especially helpful. Not when I’m trying so hard to be nice. And mature. And to stop ogling him.
“What is happening?” he insists. “Is this because I touched you again? Is this my fault?”
I have to shake my head to reassure him, but the problem is, it just might be. “I’ve been here before.” Only this happened later on. It’s happening faster in his world. And I can only think of one reason for that. Either way, looks like I’m already too late. “I know this place, and I know how to get out.”
“Can you get me home?” His voice is weak when he says it, on the verge of breaking, and I remember how frightened I was the first time this happened to me. But that was a long time ago now. And I know it’s worse for him because he doesn’t understand what events set this in motion.
“Of course I can. But this isn’t a street we want to stay in. Come with me.” I try to take his arm, but he pulls away from me, stumbling into the middle of the cobblestone laneway.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to touch me?”
“I was being overly cautious.”Your universe is fucked anyway, pal. Also, you’re hot. “I think it’s okay.”
He starts walking in the direction I’m facing, even if he doesn’t come any closer.
Smart.
I set a slow pace by his side. “You’re in the same place in London, outside the cafe, but you’re in the year eighteen forty-four.”
He stops again. “What? How is that possible? And how can you know that?”
“Well, look around. On the left here, it’s hard to see because these buildings have all been painted different colours, and the facades have mostly changed over the years, but you might recognise some of it. You’re still on the same street. That’s still where the cafe will be one day.”
Chin raised, he spins a small circle, studying the architecture all around. “No. No, this is an alley. Some of it looks similar, but…” He trails off, frowning hard.
