Abby
Karl hands me a glass of water, and I take a few small sips.
I’m still a little drunk, but I feel better now that I’m away from the bar. Thank God Karl was able to teleport us out of there, even if it made me throw up the minute we appeared on his front lawn. Another blessing, in retrospect, considering I feel a lot less dizzy than I did before.
“Why were you there by yourself?” Karl asks, sinking into the chair across from me.
He sounds a little mad, but I know his anger isn’t directed at me. Not completely, at least. I’m surprised he didn’t tear that guy’s head off. If he had, I don’t think I would have felt the need to stop him. Just the memory of those possessive hands on me makes me shudder.
I’m draped across Karl’s leather couch, my clutch abandoned on
