Breaking Her Rules

Chapter 22

It's not until we're halfway to McDonalds that I realise how drunk Watson is. He tries to kick a bottle cap lying on the footpath but he misses and stumbles, and I have to grab him. He steadies himself and then pulls me into another hug, and I can feel him shaking. It's a cold night, so he might be shaking because of the cold and the alcohol, but I know it's because he's trying to hold back tears.

I've never seen Watson like this. Watson has always been stoic and impenetrable, or at the very least, aggressive. He shows emotion through yelling and punching things, not crying. If his team loses or the Prisleys are being dicks he can yell and throw things and punch people. But now, while he's upset, I have no idea how to comfort him. So I hold onto him and rub my hand along his back, wondering what to say.

Eventually we split apart and keep walking. Somehow I'm holding his hand. I can't remember if I grabbed his or he grabbed mine, but we're walking hand in hand to McDonalds.

In the car park Watson stops and wipes his eyes. He looks at me and says, 'Do I look okay?'

'You look fine,' I tell him honestly. He's only wearing a t-shirt, but I'm freezing from the cold wind biting through my thin jacket. We walk through the sliding doors, into the familiar smell of a late night fast food restaurant. A Cold Chisel song is playing on the radio.

The girl behind the counter looks bored. She's wearing a headset and a red cap. I ask her for two meals, and order a bottle of water for Watson. He's sitting in a booth with his head in his hands, staring at the table. I grab six sachets of tomato sauce and take the tray of food over to the table. Watson squeezes all six sachets onto his large chips.

My burger is poorly assembled but because I'm drunk it tastes like liquid gold. I practically inhale it, while Watson takes measly bites, and abandons his. He picks at his chips, and then licks the sauce from his fingers.

'I left half a bottle of vodka at the party,' I realise as we're walking out of the restaurant. 'Some Prisley prick will probably steal it.'

Watson doesn't respond.

I call Julian, planning to tell him we've gone home, but he doesn't answer. I text Harrison instead, asking him if he can look after Ainsley again.

Watson and I sneak through his back door as quietly as possible, because I don't want to alert Violet to our presence. She would probably want to come downstairs and see why we're home so early, and I don't think Watson would appreciate his sister seeing him in this state. Watson kicks off his shoes and collapses into his bed, still with his jeans on. He pulls the covers over his head and lies still for only a second, before he writhes under the sheets and kicks the covers off. He jumps out of bed and paces the room, fists clenched.

I take a seat on his bed, watching him.

He rolls his shoulders and then walks to the end of the bed, staring straight at me. He's angry.

'You knew this whole time,' he says. 'You knew, and I didn't believe you.'

'Watson,' I say, crawling across the bed and kneeling in front of him so our faces are at the same height. I put my hands on his shoulders and look straight into his eyes. 'It's not your fault.'

He shakes my hands off his shoulders. I fall back onto my ass on the bed and look up at him. 'You loved her and you trusted her,' I say.

'I love her,' he corrects me. 'I still love her. I don't know how I love her this much.'

'It's alright, Watson. It's going to be alright. It will stop hurting,' I tell him, even though I have absolutely no experience in this matter. The only experience I have with "breaking up" with anyone is Lucas, and we were only friends. It still hasn't stopped hurting.