Page 53 of Parker

The moment that Quinn realized he loved me.

The moment I realized that one day, someday, I could love Quinn.

That was the moment the scrim between love and hate was the thinnest…until now.

I take a deep, solid breath for the first time in hours and let it go slowly. There’s a relief in untangling intense feelings, and that relief leads to strength. Even if you’re not crazy about where you land, if you can see everything clearly, you have a fighting chance of understanding yourself and figuring out a way through.

I don’t know what I want to do about Quinn. I have never really liked the whole “he pulled your pigtails and made you cry because he likes you” conceit. I get it that boys are less mature and rowdier than girls, but I don’t think that should give them a free pass to plague you endlessly either.

But, then again, if I think back on Quinn’s and my interactions, they grew sparser and less physical by high school. By then, it was mostly verbal sparring, and if I’m very, very honest with myself, a part of me liked it.

I liked the attention because, let’s be honest, Quinn did get tall, confident, and handsome. And yet, no matter who he was dating, his eyes always found mine. He always sidled over to me for a little bit of conversational warfare, and part of me welcomed it.

I liked the way his clever quips and comments pushed me to hone my insult game. Sometimes, when I was bored, I’d think of a really great zinger for Quinn, and I’d hold onto it like a nugget of gold until I could fling it in his face. And man, it felt good. I got a high from going back and forth with him.

I have to face it. Over the years, I willingly engaged in battles-of-wit with Quinn. I’d see him coming, and instead ofrunning, I’d brace myself for a showdown, and more often than not, my competitive side would lean into the challenge, not away from it.

Something about Quinn—even if it was his pranks and teasing—attracted me to him on some level.

Now, that’s not to say that Quinn wasn’t exhausting. He was. There was only so much verbal sparring I could take before I wanted to punch him in the face, run away, or be left alone. But I could’ve given him the silent treatment years ago, and I think he would’ve stopped coming at me. The thing is, Quinn thrived on my disdain. He liked our back and forth just as much as I did.

“Hey!” says Harper. “I’m back.”

“How’re Joe and Wren?”

“Good. Joe’s asleep on the floor next to her crib.” She laughs softly. “I’ll wake him up when we hang up.”

“Sorry I stole that time from you.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “You needed me.”

“I did.”

“You sound way better than you did when you called. Feeling better, too?”

“Yeah,” I tell her, my tears gone now. “Way better.”

“What’s your plan? What’re you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” I answer honestly. “But I’m pretty sure this hasn’t been a one-sided thing. I think you’re right about hate and love. I think there’s a part of me that’s always liked fighting with Quinn. I think it kept the door open.”

“What door?” asks my sister. “Where does it lead?”

“I don’t know yet,” I say again. “But it might be time to walk through and find out.”

“Sawyer’s going to have a stroke if you come back from Vegas as a couple. Reeve, too”

“Slow down, sis!” I yell.

“Never say never,” says Harper. “Oh! And speaking of Reeve…she’s being a little weird. I wanted to ask if you’ve ever noticed anything going on between her and Aaron?”

“Aaron, the policeman, Aaron?”

“He’s the only Aaron we know, Park.”

“Yeah, but… No. No, I haven’t seen anything. What do you think you’re seeing?”

“Not sure yet,” she says, her tone evasive. “But I’m going to keep an eye on it.”