"Austin," I call as I run up behind him and try to help him as best as I can. Turns out that boys don't need their hair held back so I stand behind him, awkwardly patting his back and saying, "That's good, get it all up."
After about five more minutes, he finally stops, and he takes a seat on the nearby bench. I've sat on this bench a million times before but tonight is so different, for the first time in three years I've sat on this bench as a single woman.
"I'm so sorry," Austin says, wiping his mouth, "I didn't realise how well Brits could hold their drink." We both laugh hesitantly.
"I must admit; most Brits can't hold their drink as much as Spencer Morgan so trying to match how much he drank was probably not the best idea."
He's still hunched over with his head in his hands and, if I'm not mistaken, he's sniffling slightly, "I couldn't find him, I think he ran off into the trees somewhere."
He's likely taken the bridge across the river and hopped fields until he made his way to the back entrance of our street, we took that way when we walked home most days before Jacobo learnt to drive.
"It's okay, he was in a mood so he wouldn't have been nice to talk to anyway."
"How are you, by the way?" He says, finally looking up. His eyes are bloodshot and blonde curls are matted to his clammy forehead, and I've never seen him look so vulnerable, "I know it must've been hard to come here today."
"It's been fun… honestly," I say after he wrinkles his eyebrows, "And, in a way, I know that Spencer just was trying to lighten the mood. It just all hurts at the moment," A lump forms in my throat and it's proving difficult to swallow it down, "I just want it to stop hurting, I want to just be happy again."
"You will be," He wraps his arm around me but I struggle to breathe for the stench of vomit, "It'll take time but you'll get better."
"I hope so. Enough about me, what about you and Emma and that kiss!" My eyes are alit and my heart suddenly doesn't hurt so much.
He laughs, throwing his head back, "I wish I knew, I like her and I'm pretty sure she likes me but she just doesn't want to admit it. Why are you guys so weird about your feelings over here?"
"You're asking the wrong girl," I smile and he looks down with glimmering eyes that could melt the coldest of hearts, "I'll have a chat to her but she might not be here long enough for you to ask."
"I know so I guess it'll have to be a fleeting romance."
It's difficult not to fall asleep on his shoulder as the sun slowly bows down to the darkness and the stars shine bright through the canopies. It's like we've been sat in a comfortable silence for weeks, my head on his shoulder and his hand on my mine. But we haven't. I barely know the guy. All I know is he's American, presumably from the sunshine state – the shaggy blonde hair and copper blue eyes give it away – and he moved here a few weeks ago.
"Why did you move?" I ask, ignoring the obvious privacy of the question. His shoulder tenses slightly at the question but it seems a body so muscular must tense all of time, it's not until I look up to see his brow wrinkled and his face pale that I start to worry, "Obviously, you don't have to tell me."
"No, no, it's fine." It's not fine, clearly, "We moved to get away from it all. I lived in Minnesota most of my life and then moved to Atlanta in my early teens," It seems my guess was completely wrong, "It was there where things kinda took a turn for a worse and I guess my family just wanted a new start." I don't pry any further, "What about you? What's family life like for the Gables."
"Well… my parents are divorced and I live with my Mum."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Don't be, I was very young when it happened. I live with my Mum and my twin brother now and I enjoy it, it's like we're our own little gang. Especially on Fridays, that's when we have our movie nights."
"A movie night? Sounds intriguing, my family would never be able to decide on a film to watch."
"Do you have any siblings, Austin?"
"A few." He tenses again, "They all live back in the states with my Dad so I don't really get to see them anymore."
"That must be tough."
"It's okay, they're coming to stay with us in the Christmas holidays, but it's just my Mum and me for now, it's nice but a little quiet in our house."
"I get that. That's part of the reason I came out tonight, the house was empty and the silence was just making me sadder."
"Bet you wished you stayed in now," His laugh is hoarse, like a man who has smoked forty a day for the past twenty years.
"Are you kidding me? Hugging an American boy who is covered in his own vomit is surely a highlight of mine."
"Yeah…" He lifts his hoodie to his face and smells it, "Oh god, I'm so sorry about that."
"Don't worry, we've all been there."
"Where abouts do you live? Do you want me to walk you home, it's getting pretty late now?"
It turns out we live just two streets apart so we wander home, chattering about our favourite things and admiring the quiet of the walk in the night time. He laughs at my poorly timed puns and I help him when he throws up twice more, it feels like talking to someone I've known for years. It doesn't seem like I met him just under a month ago.
"Do you need walking to your door?" He asks once we've made it onto the poorly tarmacked road lined with old-style bricked townhouses that each have steps leading to their doors, only a handful of which still have their lights on. The crunch of stones under our feet breaks the tension of the eerie walk under the flickering streetlight that's halfway down my road, although nothing could've prepared me for the biggest scare of all.
Approaching our house at the end of the road, the one with the longest driveway and the big shed to the side, I can almost make the outline of a figure stumbling around outside, kicking a can around from the sounds of it. He's swearing and muttering under his breath whilst he paces from each end of the driveway with his hands in his pockets.
"You can go now, Austin, thank you so much for walking me home." I say, I don't want him to see what's about to happen.
"Are you sure? I don't feel comfortable leaving you when there's a man stumbling around outside," Under the flickering streetlight I can see his tear-streaked face looking helpless and vulnerable.
"I think you should go home, you look exhausted."
"He looks drunk and men can be aggressive whilst drunk, please just let me walk you to the door," His eyes are pleading.
"Okay," I say, defeated, as we start to walk up the gravel driveway and the man comes into view, he's wailing now and tugging on his drink stained tie.
"Carlie!" He cries out, turning around and smiling, he's teeth are black and his lips are stained scarlet. Austin turns to see me; I can see his mouth wide from the corner of my eye.
"Dad. What the hell are you doing here?"