Page 99 of What We Got Wrong

Liv

January, Senior Year

Liv thought she knew what it felt like to hit rock bottom, but her own personal hell was going home the day after her fight with Quinn, the day she woke up to an empty apartment, having to pretend to her parents that everything was fine. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, she had to force herself to get out of bed, and she was barely eating, but…sure, she was fine.

Luckily for her, they never looked close enough to really see her. The only time they showed even a remote interest was when she begged off going out with the Jamisons for New Year’s Eve, because she just couldn’t face Conner, and dealt with, at most, her mom’s mild irritation and her dad’s minor concern, each of them just a half step above indifference.

She thought that Quinn would reach out when the semester started again, that she would hear something from her. She thought Quinn would at least call or text, maybe just come home one day and tell her that they could still be friends. To show her in some way that Quinn valued her.

But, nothing.

Well, maybe not nothing. Because, of course, there was Emma, straddling the fence, trying to maintain a friendship with both of them.

It was difficult for Liv, though, particularly for the first few weeks of the semester, when she knew that Quinn was sleeping on Emma’s floor. They had already spent so much time together at swim practices and extra workout sessions, but knowing that Quinn was crashing with Emma made Liv want to keep her distance.

And then, Emma told Liv that Quinn was going to move out, that a spot in the dorms had opened up and she’d grabbed it, and Emma acted as a master scheduler, planning a time that worked for all of them so that Quinn could come into the apartment and get as much of her stuff as possible. Through Emma, she offered to take the bed from the second room and donate it somewhere, but Liv said that she planned to donate all the furniture at the end of the semester, so they might as well just leave it.

Because, if she was being honest, there was a tiny piece of her that hoped that Quinn would come back home, even if it was just to stay in that room, even if they were going to try to keep to a real friendship.

Even though she’d known it was happening, Liv had broken again the night she came home from class and found all of Quinn’s stuff cleared out. But it was her key, sitting on the kitchen counter, on top of a note that just said “I’m sorry” that truly ruined her.

Still, she tried to stay friends with Emma, even if Liv knew that she was less than pleasant to be around in her miserable state. Emma texted her every day. She tried to convince her to meet up before or after classes, for meals, or to study. Regardless of how surly Liv was, Emma was trying to stick with her.

In the time since Quinn and Liv had moved into the apartment, Emma had also gotten into the habit of using their kitchen when she wanted homemade food, so it wasn’t strange when she showed up one Sunday on Liv’s doorstep unannounced, carrying a few bags of groceries and offering to make them lunch.

It was the first time she’d done this since Quinn had moved her things out, though, and Liv was suspicious of her intentions. Still, she welcomed her friend in, sitting off to the side as Emma made herself at home in a kitchen that was at least as much hers as it was Liv’s or Quinn’s.

Liv watched Emma work, chopping veggies and stirring pasta, easily and mindlessly whipping up something that smelled incredible almost instantaneously, all while Emma tried to engage Liv in lighthearted chatter.

“How have your classes been going?” she asked.

“Fine,” Liv answered simply.

“Can you believe we’re almost done,” Emma replied, and Liv could feel the effort she was putting in, that she was genuine in her attempt to get Liv to interact.

“It’s wild,” Liv said lethargically.

“Are your parents coming for graduation?” Emma asked. She knew how complicated Liv’s relationship was with her mom and dad, so she was surprised that she would bring up the topic.

“It sounds like they might,” Liv answered noncommittally, although the basic answer still surprised Emma.

“Whoa, how do you feel about that?”

Liv shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Emma watched her for a few beats, and Liv could tell that she wanted to push the topic, but she didn’t dig, instead switching tracks. “Do you want to come to the swim meet next weekend? We’re hosting, so you won’t have to travel, and I’m feeling hot this season, if I do say so myself.”

“No, that’s not a good idea,” Liv muttered. Emma shook her head but didn’t say anything in response, and it was obvious that she had assumed Liv was going to say no, so what even was the point of asking?

Emma plated up the food, carrying it to the sofa, and waiting for Liv to join her. When Liv finally sat, Emma handed her a plate and watched patiently for her to start. “Are you going to eat?”

“I’m not particularly hungry, Em,” Liv replied. It did smell delicious, sure, but Liv was perpetually nauseated.

Emma sighed, throwing her head back before setting her plate down on the coffee table. “I am really trying here, Liv.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Liv said, shrugging and purposely trying not to give Emma anything to work with.

“It’s a long list,” Emma murmured, and Liv could tell that she hadn’t meant to say it out loud by the way her face changed, just shy of contrite.