Poor August. He’s stressed. I’d better kiss him. “It’s an interesting thought, though, isn’t it?”
His lips press back against mine sweetly. “Yeah. In theory.”
I love how he always manages a smile for me.
“Not in reality,” Shashi argues, ruining the smile I just got. “In reality, we have worlds to save. Specifically,myworld,myjob,myflat, all my things. I am not going to fare well in Victorian London. Now, get us out of here. Please fuck, or do whatever you need to do. We’ll wait here.”
“That’s a great idea.” Jon slams a happy hand down on the bar. “But not in the closet.”
“Yeah,” Amber laughs, making her way around the other side of the bar. “Come out of the closet, Augusts.”
They all cackle at the poor joke. I’m dying. Truly. And thankful to August, who says quietly and sarcastically, “I might just need a few seconds to recharge before we destroy another universe, if that’s alright with everyone.”
“Ugh,” Shashi grunts out. “Men’s bodies are ridiculous. Amber and I would have that rift open ten times over in the space of half an hour.”
“Yeah, we would,” Amber agrees, eyes hot on Shashi as she pulls a frothy pint.
Jon interrupts. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. What if we were to find the Jon in this world, and I could see if he wanted to?—”
“No!” all three Augusts snap, but it’s the third one who pulls the most attention.
“I-I think we’re in deep enough, don’t you?” he stutters, blushing. “Maybe we’ll just stick to these Augusts fucking while we figure this out.”
Great. That’s great. His not-at-all-subtle attempt to redirect their attention onto me worked. “Do any of you realise we’re right here when you say things like that?”
Amber pushes a tankard of beer towards me. “It’s not our fault you’re sex accelerators.”
I smash my head into August’s chest to hide my face, but still can’t avoid hearing Jon’s, “That’s a great name for a band, actually. Sex Accelerator.”
August sinks his fingers into my hair to hold me in as much peace as either of us are likely to get for some time, but I can feel the chuckle in his chest, even as he makes his voice serious. “Alright, we need a plan. We can go for a walk and hope we come out of this slip on the way, since that’s how we came out of it last time. Or we can sleep here tonight, and I guess, before they open tomorrow, um… try to open another portal.”
“‘Open another portal.’” My head tips up. “You too?”
He raises his pretty eyebrows. “Shall we try the walk first?”
I give him a small nod before sinking my face back against his chest.
“Can we take beers?” Amber asks sweetly, and a little too excitedly.
“Yeah,” says August. “And any cash you can find. Grab anything we can sell. We might be stuck in this time for a while, so best be prepared.”
Sounds fair. A few drinks, a blowjob in the closet, then endless sex in Victorian London.
Not the way I saw my life playing out, but it could be worse, surely.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
BAD AUGUST
LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER
Things could not possibly be worse. The level of fucked we are is astounding, outdone only by the level of don’t-give-a-fuck that radiates from this group. Shashi’s the only person who seems to grasp the depth of fuckedness, and thankfully, she’s got her thinking brain on.
Victorian London is beautiful for the rich. For everyone else, it’s eat or be eaten. She’s busy selecting knives from the pub kitchen, forcing some on Amber. They look like they’re suiting up for a zombie apocalypse, but who could blame them? I’m terrified of what we’re going to find here, and I don’t have the added burden of being a woman, let alone a woman of colour, in one of the most racist places on the planet.
But who knows? Maybe this universe’s England is a nicer place?
Not something I’d bet my life on either.
