Page 51 of What We Got Wrong

Back in her room, Liv threw on her school hoodie and called her dad. The call lasted exactly the requisite time. He asked her to update him on the first week of classes, whether she needed anything. He filled her in on his calendar, letting her know that he’d be travelling during their next scheduled appointment, but that his assistant would reach out to her with another meeting time, and he hoped she’d be amenable. When the twenty-minute timer went off at the end, he told her he loved her and begged off, citing another meeting.

Her dad hadn’t always treated every interaction so transactionally. She had vague memories from when she was little: helping her with her math homework; picking her up when she fell at the park; showing her where he’d hung up her elementary school artwork in his office.

For almost as long as she could remember, she’d been an agenda item for him, and she’d gotten used to him checking her off his list and moving on. They’d stopped being a family long ago. Liv had a literal contract with them to show their expected behavior for her, and she didn’t think that there was a possibility that they would go back to the way things had been when she was a kid

Occasionally, she thought she saw traces of the warmth he used to show trying to peek out. But he kept it locked inside, and Liv didn’t know how to break him open.

There was a part of her, though, that was afraid of what it might look like if it did break open. Because it wasn’t just him, really; it was all of them. Liv knew she’d shoved her grief for her sister into a box and buried it deeply in the recesses of her mind. She missed her constantly, just a perpetual ache beneath her skin that she’d learned to live with by simply pretending the hurt didn’t exist.

Her phone pinged again, and she saw that Quinn had responded simply to her last message, the one letting Quinn know that Liv was still in her bed, with a pink heart.

It was emotional whiplash, that’s what it was, going from talking to her dad, from thinking about her sister, to seeing a message, even a simple one, from Quinn.

But it was a good reminder, all of it. A good reminder with her dad, that she could squeeze herself into the pockets of his day. A good reminder from Quinn, that she could have a good thing, that she could enjoy something, someone, but she needed to remember the parameters they’d built.

The brightness with which she’d woken had dimmed, but she still felt like she was floating through the day. She managed to attend her classes, successfully skirting the Scarlet of it all in her afternoon course, which, honestly, took a lot of restraint. After experiencing what it was like to be with Quinn, she was even more confused how anyone could possibly let her slip through their fingers. Absurd.

In the afternoon, Liv even went for a run with the creep-free club. It was a good day.

That night, Liv was back in their room, curled up in her bed reading her history textbook, when Quinn walked in, clearly exhausted from her day. Still, she grinned widely at Liv as soon as she caught her gaze, plopping down on her bed.

“Hey,” Liv greeted her simply.

“How was your day?” Quinn asked. They’d exchanged a few more texts throughout the day, nothing serious, but Liv could hear the concern in her tone.

“It was fine,” Liv answered, and she was almost sure that was true. “How are you?”

“Honestly, I’m super tired,” Quinn replied. “This girl kept me up all night.”

Liv loved that Quinn was teasing her, that she was working to maintain the tone of their friendship. “She sounds terrible.”

Quinn’s eyes sparkled. “Too true! Gorgeous, though.”

“Stop, you’re so cheesy,” Liv replied, though she wasn’t sure why. She wanted to change the subject, though, so she figured she’d bring up something that had occurred to her when she was supposed to be paying attention in class. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything,” Quinn affirmed.

“You…you haven’t asked me if I’m gay?”

Quinn smiled again, though it was softer this time, kindness in her eyes. “Well, it’s none of my business?”

Okay, Liv had to laugh at that. “You don’t think so?”

“I mean, I really don’t,” Quinn replied. She paused, clearly collecting her thoughts for a few moments. “You don’t owe me, or anyone, an explanation about your sexuality. Ever.”

“I guess I’m more wondering if you’re worried about it,” Liv admitted, uncomfortable but needing to say those words.

“If you’re asking if I care if you’re upset or anxious about what we did, then yes, of course. Because I care about you,” Quinn replied. “But if you’re asking if I care how you identify… I don’t. I mean, I know you had sex with at least one guy before, but that is also not my business…and I know you had sex with me. Because it was very, very memorable.”

“You specifically said that you’d ‘never forget’ it,” Liv reminded her, and when did her voice get so breathless?

“And you specifically said that I have a superpower,” Quinn replied, quirking an eyebrow.

Liv blushed. “Fair, fair.”

Quinn’s expression softened again, losing the playful edge. “You don’t have to define yourself just because of what happened. I mean, you can. God, what am I saying? You don’t need my permission, either…”

“You’re cute when you’re all frazzled,” Liv said without thinking, but she refused to regret her words when Quinn softly glowed in response to them.