Ten Thousand Skies Above You
Page 16
6
I SCRAMBLE TO THE FAR SIDE OF THE BED, CLUTCHING THE sheet to my chest. This covers me—but pulls the edge away from Theo, who’s totally exposed, and totally nude.
“Jesus!” Theo grabs a pillow to hold over his lap. “Aaaaand this is awkward.”
My cheeks flush hot. I try to look anywhere but at Theo, but every glance shows me something else I’d rather not see. My bra on the floor next to a pair of boots that must be his. A condom wrapper at the edge of the bed. An old-fashioned alarm clock on the bedside table, knocked onto its side next to a lamp with its shade askew.
Apparently what just happened here was . . . extremely energetic.
For a few long seconds, maybe a full minute, neither of us can speak another word. We can’t catch our breath, and besides, what could we possibly say? Would this moment be less cringe-worthy if Theo had never had feelings for me, and I’d never been curious about him?
Nope. Nothing makes this better. Nothing.
I stammer out, “This—this has to be—this is the most embarrassing way to jump into a dimension. Ever.”
“We could have jumped in about five minutes earlier.”
When we still would have been— “Okay, that’s worse.”
“Guess this version of me has better luck.” Then Theo goes quiet for a moment. “Sorry. Dumb joke.”
“I don’t understand this.”
With a raised eyebrow, he says, “You don’t? Apparently I need to give Paul the sex talk again.”
Wait. Theo gave Paul a sex talk? I’ll deal with that later. “That’s not what I meant.”
What I can’t understand is—how can Theo be in my bed? Paul and I have found each other in so many dimensions. The connection between us endures through all the worlds. Fate and mathematics bring us together, time after time. There’s no room in that equation for Theo.
But then I think of some of the first universes I traveled to. In the Londonverse, Paul and I both lived in England, but we’d never met. And in the dimensions where I lived on a deep sea station, Paul and my parents were both in oceanography but didn’t know one another. Even if there is a kind of destiny bringing me and Paul together, each world evolves at its own pace. We just haven’t found each other here yet.
None of that explains why I’m in bed with Theo. At this moment, though—with the two of us undressed and close and unsure—I can’t help remembering that one moment in London where I came this close to sleeping with him. (I mean, a version of him. I didn’t know the difference at the time.) The way I felt then is a lot like the way I feel now: embarrassed, vulnerable, and a tiny bit turned on.
The turned-on part is probably left over from the other Marguerite. It is. Has to be.
Theo breaks the silence. “So. We ought to check the Firebirds, right? Make sure we went to the right place?”
They did, and he knows it; by now Paul and I have traveled enough to prove how they work. But testing the Firebirds is something to do besides freaking out about being stark naked in the same bed.
Well, not entirely naked if you count the Firebirds; one hangs around Theo’s neck, two around mine. I tuck my sheet more firmly under my arms to keep it from falling, take one of the Firebirds in hand, then press the combination for a basic systems check.
It glows softly gold for a moment—the locator function at work—and my heart swells with stupid hope before I realize that it found Theo. Of course.
“Looks like we’re in good shape, kid.” The gold light from Theo’s Firebird paints the side of his face for a moment longer before it goes out. He reaches up to run his hand through his hair, but it’s shorter here, practically a crew cut. “Listen—what’s a delicate way to put this—if you’ll excuse me, I kind of have to remove, uh, something worn by someone else.”
It takes me a minute to realize what he means. “Oh, ew.”
“Tell me about it.”
I cover my face with one hand. “I’m not looking.”
The first door Theo opens leads into a closet, but he finds the bathroom on the second try. He scoops up something from the floor—his clothing, I’m sure—and goes inside without another word. As soon as I hear the doorknob click, I scramble out of bed to find my own clothes. The stuff on the floor will have to do. Plain dark skirt, scratchy blouse—it’s all pretty utilitarian stuff. Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing I’d choose to wear, but right now I’d put on a Big Bird costume if I had to.
Once I’m dressed, I finally calm down enough to start really studying my surroundings. Is this my bedroom or Theo’s? I can’t tell from the decor alone, which makes Paul’s sub-basic dorm room look like it belongs on HGTV. There’s a pale blue blanket at the foot of the bed, no headboard, white walls, plain venetian blinds for the windows, and no art. This room is smaller than the one I have at home, but it doesn’t look anything like the graduate student dorms either. A small, unframed mirror hangs on one wall. I take a glance and realize that my hair’s shorter here, cut in a bob. At first I think that looks awful with my curls, but then I realize my hairstyle might have been neater before Theo and I . . . well, before.
A soft rap on the bathroom door makes me smile despite everything; the poor guy has to knock to come back into the bedroom. Theo whispers, “Coast clear?”
“Yeah. Come on.”
He steps out wearing what looks like a black coverall. He brushes his hands down the front, mock-modeling it. “Think I’m a mechanic in this universe? I mean, I like fixing up cars, but it never seemed like my ideal career choice.”
“Doubt it, but who knows? We’ll have to figure things out as quickly as we can.”
He nods but doesn’t move. Hesitating isn’t like Theo. Then I remember that this is his first journey through the dimensions—the very first time he’s found himself in another world. When our eyes meet, he breathes out sharply. “Still getting used to this.”
“You feel just the same,” I say. “Nothing changes, except you wake up someplace new.”
“I don’t feel just the same. I feel better. Like, a lot better.”
Of course. Only Theo’s consciousness traveled through the dimensions; that means he’s in this Theo’s body now. This body was never exposed to Nightthief, which means the damage Theo’s been suffering from for months now—here, it doesn’t exist.
He shakes his head, smiling at something that isn’t funny. “I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until right this moment.”
I put one hand on his shoulder. The touch is charged now in a way it wasn’t before, but I don’t care. Theo’s scared enough to let me see how freaked out he is, which means he needs some kind of comfort. Once he’s breathing more normally, I bring him back to the here and now. “You still remember yourself?”
“Yeah. But I programmed a reminder every ten minutes for the next day. Seemed like a good first step.”
“You’ll run down the charge.” Firebirds can operate for a long time; Mom made sure of that. But reminders require a lot of energy. You have to limit them.
“I’ll set them further apart once I get my bearings. Let me get a handle on this first, you know?” Theo brings his hands together. “So, you’re the expert. Where do we start?”
I SCRAMBLE TO THE FAR SIDE OF THE BED, CLUTCHING THE sheet to my chest. This covers me—but pulls the edge away from Theo, who’s totally exposed, and totally nude.
“Jesus!” Theo grabs a pillow to hold over his lap. “Aaaaand this is awkward.”
My cheeks flush hot. I try to look anywhere but at Theo, but every glance shows me something else I’d rather not see. My bra on the floor next to a pair of boots that must be his. A condom wrapper at the edge of the bed. An old-fashioned alarm clock on the bedside table, knocked onto its side next to a lamp with its shade askew.
Apparently what just happened here was . . . extremely energetic.
For a few long seconds, maybe a full minute, neither of us can speak another word. We can’t catch our breath, and besides, what could we possibly say? Would this moment be less cringe-worthy if Theo had never had feelings for me, and I’d never been curious about him?
Nope. Nothing makes this better. Nothing.
I stammer out, “This—this has to be—this is the most embarrassing way to jump into a dimension. Ever.”
“We could have jumped in about five minutes earlier.”
When we still would have been— “Okay, that’s worse.”
“Guess this version of me has better luck.” Then Theo goes quiet for a moment. “Sorry. Dumb joke.”
“I don’t understand this.”
With a raised eyebrow, he says, “You don’t? Apparently I need to give Paul the sex talk again.”
Wait. Theo gave Paul a sex talk? I’ll deal with that later. “That’s not what I meant.”
What I can’t understand is—how can Theo be in my bed? Paul and I have found each other in so many dimensions. The connection between us endures through all the worlds. Fate and mathematics bring us together, time after time. There’s no room in that equation for Theo.
But then I think of some of the first universes I traveled to. In the Londonverse, Paul and I both lived in England, but we’d never met. And in the dimensions where I lived on a deep sea station, Paul and my parents were both in oceanography but didn’t know one another. Even if there is a kind of destiny bringing me and Paul together, each world evolves at its own pace. We just haven’t found each other here yet.
None of that explains why I’m in bed with Theo. At this moment, though—with the two of us undressed and close and unsure—I can’t help remembering that one moment in London where I came this close to sleeping with him. (I mean, a version of him. I didn’t know the difference at the time.) The way I felt then is a lot like the way I feel now: embarrassed, vulnerable, and a tiny bit turned on.
The turned-on part is probably left over from the other Marguerite. It is. Has to be.
Theo breaks the silence. “So. We ought to check the Firebirds, right? Make sure we went to the right place?”
They did, and he knows it; by now Paul and I have traveled enough to prove how they work. But testing the Firebirds is something to do besides freaking out about being stark naked in the same bed.
Well, not entirely naked if you count the Firebirds; one hangs around Theo’s neck, two around mine. I tuck my sheet more firmly under my arms to keep it from falling, take one of the Firebirds in hand, then press the combination for a basic systems check.
It glows softly gold for a moment—the locator function at work—and my heart swells with stupid hope before I realize that it found Theo. Of course.
“Looks like we’re in good shape, kid.” The gold light from Theo’s Firebird paints the side of his face for a moment longer before it goes out. He reaches up to run his hand through his hair, but it’s shorter here, practically a crew cut. “Listen—what’s a delicate way to put this—if you’ll excuse me, I kind of have to remove, uh, something worn by someone else.”
It takes me a minute to realize what he means. “Oh, ew.”
“Tell me about it.”
I cover my face with one hand. “I’m not looking.”
The first door Theo opens leads into a closet, but he finds the bathroom on the second try. He scoops up something from the floor—his clothing, I’m sure—and goes inside without another word. As soon as I hear the doorknob click, I scramble out of bed to find my own clothes. The stuff on the floor will have to do. Plain dark skirt, scratchy blouse—it’s all pretty utilitarian stuff. Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing I’d choose to wear, but right now I’d put on a Big Bird costume if I had to.
Once I’m dressed, I finally calm down enough to start really studying my surroundings. Is this my bedroom or Theo’s? I can’t tell from the decor alone, which makes Paul’s sub-basic dorm room look like it belongs on HGTV. There’s a pale blue blanket at the foot of the bed, no headboard, white walls, plain venetian blinds for the windows, and no art. This room is smaller than the one I have at home, but it doesn’t look anything like the graduate student dorms either. A small, unframed mirror hangs on one wall. I take a glance and realize that my hair’s shorter here, cut in a bob. At first I think that looks awful with my curls, but then I realize my hairstyle might have been neater before Theo and I . . . well, before.
A soft rap on the bathroom door makes me smile despite everything; the poor guy has to knock to come back into the bedroom. Theo whispers, “Coast clear?”
“Yeah. Come on.”
He steps out wearing what looks like a black coverall. He brushes his hands down the front, mock-modeling it. “Think I’m a mechanic in this universe? I mean, I like fixing up cars, but it never seemed like my ideal career choice.”
“Doubt it, but who knows? We’ll have to figure things out as quickly as we can.”
He nods but doesn’t move. Hesitating isn’t like Theo. Then I remember that this is his first journey through the dimensions—the very first time he’s found himself in another world. When our eyes meet, he breathes out sharply. “Still getting used to this.”
“You feel just the same,” I say. “Nothing changes, except you wake up someplace new.”
“I don’t feel just the same. I feel better. Like, a lot better.”
Of course. Only Theo’s consciousness traveled through the dimensions; that means he’s in this Theo’s body now. This body was never exposed to Nightthief, which means the damage Theo’s been suffering from for months now—here, it doesn’t exist.
He shakes his head, smiling at something that isn’t funny. “I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until right this moment.”
I put one hand on his shoulder. The touch is charged now in a way it wasn’t before, but I don’t care. Theo’s scared enough to let me see how freaked out he is, which means he needs some kind of comfort. Once he’s breathing more normally, I bring him back to the here and now. “You still remember yourself?”
“Yeah. But I programmed a reminder every ten minutes for the next day. Seemed like a good first step.”
“You’ll run down the charge.” Firebirds can operate for a long time; Mom made sure of that. But reminders require a lot of energy. You have to limit them.
“I’ll set them further apart once I get my bearings. Let me get a handle on this first, you know?” Theo brings his hands together. “So, you’re the expert. Where do we start?”
