Abby

“Need some company?”

Karl’s eyes slide over to the bottle in my hand, and a slight smirk tugs at the

corners of his lips. He scooches aside and nods for me to join him. “Sure.”

I join him as he leans against the wall. Our shoulders brush as we stand beside

one another, a familiar yet bittersweetly nostalgic current of electricity running up

my spine. I tilt the bottle up to my lips and take a swig, then hand it to him. He

does the same.

“So…” he starts, but then hesitates, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Enter title…

“What’s up?”

“We have a lot to talk about,” he says, peering down into the bottle as he swirls

the wine around.

“Like what happened the other night?” The words escape before I can rein them

in. A hot flush of embarrassment immediately rises into my cheeks; the alcohol

than usual, and I hate to admit it, but

kiss in the pantry a

silence

the kiss,” he says softly, looking up at me, his eyes

unreadable. “Abby, I—”

apologize,” I interrupt. “I shouldn’t

says. “Don’t apologize. I’m the

It

words. I didn’t expect him to

something that the old Karl ever

taking the bottle

then hand it back. Our fingers brush and our

“Karl, I…”

head as though reading my

now, you should be focusing on tomorrow. On your

confusion. “Okay,’ I

my chest, the yearning to press my lips to

way his eyes looked when he was

it, because Karl

but the unsaid words still hover

heads, watching, waiting.

of the wine, as if fortifying

breath. “Can

turning my head to look at him. The brick

grounding in a weird

may wake up

coma.”

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