Page 92 of What We Got Wrong

They had eight and a half months until graduation. Eight and a half months to laugh and talk and fight and fuck, to cuddle and hold hands and hug and kiss and remember how much they just liked each other, liked spending time together.

Eight and a half months.

It’s just…Quinn wasn’t so sure she would make it.

Chapter 34

Liv

December, Senior Year

Liv could admit that the fall semester of their senior year was…rough.

They were sleeping in the same bed every night, having long ago given up on the pretense of the second room, but it felt like they were orbiting each other more than occupying the same space. It felt like Quinn was withdrawing from her, the distance they’d felt over the summer pervasive, even when they were physically present.

But when it was good, it was still so, so good. Like when Ronnie’s birthday came around again, and Quinn, without even saying anything to Liv, planned an entire day for them—plus Emma—to have a trashy movie marathon in their pajamas. It wasn’t exactly an adventure, like the previous year, but she’d created an environment where Liv could simply turn off her brain, surrounded by the comfort of her best friends.

Quinn was her person. Even when things were tense between them, being with her was a safe space, the place she could most be herself. She couldn’t make herself think about losing that sense of belonging, of acceptance, of self. She couldn’t think about how hard it was going to be to give Quinn up.

The day before she was flying home for the holidays—her parents had generously decided to stay in Chicago that year—she met up with Emma for lunch.

“Did Quinn tell you about our swim team holiday party tonight?” Emma asked, shoveling food into her mouth.

“No,” Liv replied. “Is this something you guys do each year? Why haven’t I heard about it before?”

“We usually just do a quick gift exchange after the last practice in December,” Emma explained, waving her off. “But the captain this year is a real diva, she demands elegance.”

Liv laughed at her self-referential joke. “Sounds about right.”

“Oh, I know it,” Emma said. “We’re going to do a dinner at a nice place, dress up kind of fancy, the whole shebang.”

“Aw, fun,” Liv replied, before adding wantonly, “Quinn in dress clothes, huh? I can’t wait to see it.”

“Right,” Emma agreed, pretending to fan herself with her hand. When she stopped, Liv clocked the thoughtful expression on her friend’s face. “Everyone is allowed to bring a plus one. You should come.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Liv said, shooting it down. When Emma went to say something else, she added, “It’s going to be the swim team and their dates, right?”

“Yeah, technically,” Emma admitted. “But I mean, no one has to know that you guys are…whatever you are. You can come as her friend.”

Liv raised her eyebrows, and Emma sighed, continuing, “Okay, people would probably assume. But who cares?”

“I can’t,” Liv insisted. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it wasn’t. But they’d already complicated things so much, Liv couldn’t go to an event as Quinn’s date.

“Okay,” Emma replied, slowly shaking her head at Liv in obvious disappointment.

“Besides, Quinn would have asked me if she wanted me there,” Liv added, as if she actually thought that was a good argument.

But Emma just scoffed. “Liv. Come on.”

“What?” Liv responded, and even she wasn’t sure if she was playing stupid or genuinely this dumb.

“She would want you there,” Emma said adamantly. “She loves—"

“Stop,” Liv replied, holding up her hand and slamming her eyes closed, like that was going to keep out what Emma was trying to say.

They’d promised each other no feelings. They’d committed to not dating, to friendship. And Liv knew, she knew, that they were so far beyond those promises. She knew it was wrong, that she wasn’t giving Quinn enough. Liv wasn’t being what she deserved. She knew that they needed to end this, but she wanted, more than she’d ever wanted anything, to keep Quinn.

“I need to say this,” Emma said, and Liv opened her eyes to find her friend looking at her with the most serious expression she’d ever seen her wear. “I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable.”