“It’s your life. I’m not here to judge you.”
He lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I think you would judge me. Because I judge me. Daily.”
“August, I don’t care. You must understand there are infinite possibilities for what you did next. Every August in every reality hasn’t made every choice we’ve made. And I don’t know for sure, obviously, but it seems to me you’re probably one of the most similar Augusts to me that there could be.”I do know. You are.“Just speaking logically, it seems like you’ve made almost all the same decisions I have. So why this? Why this one moment that set us on different paths? We need to discuss this. For science.”
His Adam’s apple works as he takes a long, no doubt evasive sip of tea, then his fingers grip the cup so tight I can see them turning pale. “Do you think it really matters? It’s all in the past.”
Maybe it doesn’t. But maybe it does, because this is the closest I’ve ever been to my reality, and given our time slip yesterday, it’s clear that us being together in this world is having more of an effect here than it ever has before in any other reality. So I push him. “You said last night you want to do science with me?”
Now it’s his lips that press together, white, and I could swear they have a slight tremble when he stammers out, “I-I-I was tired. It was late.”
“Youdon’twant to do science with me?”
“I do. Yep. Um. Science. With you.”
Why is he so flustered right now? “Okay, well, let’s do science. What did you do? You enrolled in the degree, you probably paid a deposit on your student housing when you did that, because I had to. Yet you stayed in Kentish Town?”
“I did. I stayed… kind of. Another six months or so.”
“In that flat?”
“Yeah. On and off. I kept it. But I sort of… I went…” He licks his lips. “Travelling!” He lands on the final word loudly, like he’s just found the missing piece of a puzzle. Or the perfect lie.
I press him. “Travelling?”
“Yeah.”
“Travelling where?”
That knee tapping. “Everywhere.”
“Everywhere?”
“Yeah. Everywhere. Around the world. I went… I’ve been to a lot of places. I wastravelling.”
It’s like pulling teeth. “Okay, but what made you do that? What was the one deciding factor? What was the single event that split our fates in two?”
His eyes are so wide when he finally looks up that I don’t think I want the answer. His nervousness is contagious, and whatever this is, I just know this is going to be a big fucking problem.
We both jump when a loud door-knock booms through the flat.
He’s swearing under his breath, rambling out something about how it can only be his landlady, and he doesn’t want to upset her, and how she cannot be allowed to see me, so he thinks I should hide behind the armchair.
“I’m not hiding!”
“Just duck down,” he begs under his breath. “For one minute. Please.”
“Just don’t answer,” I hiss back.
“I can’t not answer. What if she needs me?” He’s already halfway across the room, like she’s got a remote control on him, and his hand is swishing about the place as if that’s going to make me disappear.
Truly, I’m right on the verge of doing it, dropping behind the couch like I’m his secret teenage crush, but then he pushes the handle, the door swings open, and August’s frantic but welcoming smile drops. The atmosphere pulls taut, and he stands there, saying nothing.
There’s a hand on his waist.
Aman’shand.
It closes over his hip like it’s a natural motion. Like August’s hip belongs to that hand, whoever the fuck’s hand that is.
