No, no, probably not. At least that is what she forced herself to believe. Halfway through the next episode, Amber realised that Aidan had fallen asleep. After all, he had been drinking quite a bit, so it didn't surprise her much. She laid a blanket over him and went upstairs, curling up in his bed. She had been there so long that his scent had faded, but it still lingered from the night he spent in it, with her, not too long ago. What had she gotten herself into? This question was still on her mind as she drifted off into the dark oblivion of sleep.
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Around two in the morning, Amber woke up suddenly, not daring to move. She felt his arm slip around her waist. What the hell was he doing up here? Without warning, she suddenly felt his lips press against her neck, softly but firmly. She loved it, but couldn't handle it. Quickly, she whipped around and off the bed. She turned to stare at him with tear-filled eyes. "Aidan, what the hell?" she screamed, furious. "Please," he pleaded, slurring the word. Deep down, Amber knew that this wasn't Aidan. This was a man who couldn't handle his alcohol. Nevertheless, this was unacceptable. She ran downstairs and locked herself in the bathroom, curling up on the cold tiles, trying to push all of the thoughts out of her head. She would spend the remainder of the night there, until Aidan could sober up, and she was going to talk to him. She just couldn't handle this anymore.
