OLD VERSION: Amendable (Book 3 in the Original SOCIETY Series) ✔

❦Nine❦

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I'd been sitting in the same spot for two hours. It definitely felt longer though...

I hadn't moved since Easton fell asleep on the couch. Instead I found myself staring straight ahead and trying to sort out the scrambling in my brain. Every few minutes my gaze would drift to the blond whose face had turned away from me. All I could see was the tip of his ear peering from his wavy hair, and the way the side of his neck was on full display 

My brows furrowed again, jaw tightening as my fingers kept curling my hands into fists. 

It was difficult to explain how I was feeling. I wasn't angry... not even a little bit. I didn't even feel uncomfortable. There was no emptiness inside, either. There was definitely something I was feeling... I just couldn't pin point what it was. 

Hearing the groggy groan made me blink out of my thoughts and lift my gaze to the waking Werewolf on the couch in front of me. 

I remained where I was sitting with my arms resting on top of my knees, but the grip my hand had on my wrist tightened. My mind was reeling with whether or not I should mention what Easton and I had done. It was making me wonder if he remembered it himself, or even about him wanting to be friends again---or attempt to be, anyway. 

Easton scrunched his face, slowly rolling onto his side with another groan. His hand came up to run down the front of his face before finally deciding to pry open his eyes. But they widened when they saw me sitting there, and so I was mentally thinking that maybe he didn't remember what happened after all. 

Good for me... I guess. Though I'll admit there was some slight disappointment.

"Red...?" He blinked a few times, brows furrowing as he stared at me. Then he looked around with a deeper frown until seeing the bottles of beer I'd set on the table behind me. 

Easton's nose scrunched before glancing at me. 

I raised a brow, pursing my mouth to the side. The blond Werewolf groaned through a sigh, asking if the bottles were all his. When both my brows went up and I pulled in my lips as a silent response, Easton groaned while throwing himself backwards onto the couch. His hands came up to clamp over his face and keep them there. 

It was slightly muffled when he asked, "How long was I out?" because of his hands still on his face, but I answered anyway; shrugging back that he'd been asleep for an hour or two. 

"And you've just been sitting here?" 

He turned his head, pulling his hands away to his stomach and I looked to the side, pursing my mouth to the side. I nodded, glancing at him when admitting that I may have been a little concerned with the number of drinks the Werewolf consumed. 

"So I came over to make sure you were alright," I finished. 

"And...?" His brows rose, his blue eyes looking pretty worried with what I'd respond. 

Lowering a brow, I nodded to the side, "And... I had to wrestle you for, like, four of these bottles," I gestured with a nod to the bottles behind me. "Though you managed to drink half of one, you Moody Asshat." 

Easton blinked a few times, switching from me to the beer and then back. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly before muttering, "Something happened... didn't it?"

I stared back at him. The vision of how he'd pulled my face to his flashed in my mind. It was probably only right to let him know what happened, but then what if he went on a drinking spree again because he needed to punish himself. Because that's what Easton was doing all the time when he drank.