‘Excuse me,’ he says, as if I were just another shopper.
I stay put, forcing him to look at me. To actually see me.
‘Oh, er …’ he stammers when he realizes who I am.
‘Tyler,’ I say, tipping my head towards him.
He clears his throat. ‘Bethany,’ he says.
‘I need your help.’ I’ve decided not to bother with preamble and nicey-nicey bullshit. I’m in dire straits here and he’s literally the only person on this planet who can help me. Eugh … it sounds so awful when I say it like that. Like I’m a pathetic damsel in distress who needs the big strapping man to swoop in and save her. I feel like a terrible feminist. Plus, despite how nice he might have seemed in one iteration of the universe, he’s still Tyler fucking Adams. He still blanked me that morning in the hotel. I need to make sure I remember that, and that I don’t let myself get sucked in by his green eyes and oddly helpful demeanour.
‘Um … okay.’ He sounds hesitant.
I hand him a pack of custard creams.
‘Um … thanks,’ he replies, staring at them.
‘They’re your favourites,’ I say with authority.
‘Yes?’ He phrases it like a question.
‘You eat one half and then lick off the cream and then dip the final half into your tea, holding it for just the right amount of time so it’s soft but maintains enough structural integrity to not fall apart on its journey to your mouth.’
He frowns. ‘How do you know how I eat my biscuits?’
‘Because yesterday you sat in my office and did exactly that.’ I’m matter-of-fact.
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Yes, you did.’ I nod a few times.
‘I can assure you I didn’t.’ I can see he’s starting to get irritated now. ‘Look, Bethany. I don’t know what’s going on, or why you are trying to mess with me in the biscuit aisle of Tesco, but I can absolutely, one hundred per cent guarantee I did not see you yesterday.’
So, I’m going to be honest and say that I did not think this through. I don’t know what I expected; did I really think he would go, ‘Oh right. Yes, of course. Now let’s go and save the world together’? I should have remembered he’s stubborn and somewhat boorish and busy and thinks he’s God’s gift to all of science – and possibly even all of mankind.
He raises an eyebrow at me as if to ask me what the hell I have to say for myself and I shrink under his gaze.
‘It wasn’tyouyou,’ I say, but the words come out in a jumble. ‘It was a different you. You, but not you.’ It sounds like gibberish to my ears and – judging from the look on his face – he’s even more flummoxed than I am. ‘We were in another universe,’ I say eventually, spreading my fingers out in apology for the sheer magnitude of a truth bomb I have just put in front of him.
‘Right …’ he says in a way that makes it clear he thinks I’ve totally lost my mind.
‘Seriously,’ I say. ‘I’m not really Bethany Raven. Well, I am Bethany Raven. But I’m notthisBethany Raven. This isn’t my universe.’
‘I think you’ve been working a bit too hard,’ he says, not entirely sympathetically. ‘I think you need to take a holiday.’ And with that he puts the biscuits back on the shelf and walks away from me, leaving me standing dumbstruck in the aisle.
Did he just dismiss me? Dismiss me like a stupid little girl making up stories for attention.
What the actual fuck?
Chapter Thirteen
TylerfuckingAdams. Now I remember why I hate the arrogant bastard. How dare he dismiss me like that? The cheek of him! I’m still ranting when I get to the bar to meet Cesca and Helen.
But as soon as I see my sister I instantly forget about his broad shoulders and stiff smile.
‘Cesca!’ I say, throwing my arms around her and almost lifting her off the ground with the force of my hug.
‘Uh, hi,’ she says, her body stiff and rigid. I feel her pull away from me, so I drop her and take a step back. She’s looking at me with wide open eyes and horror on her face as if I’ve sullied her in some way.
