It takes me a while to register where exactly in the world I am when I open my eyes.
Ever since I got out of the hospital and Mom had been forcing me to stay home from school until recently, I've gotten so used to waking up at around noon, but not really knowing what time of day it is because the curtains in my room are black and they keep out the sunlight. My eyes are usually met with a dull room and I'm used to feeling blankets against my bare legs because I don't sleep in pants.
So it's pretty needless to say that I'm a little confused when I open my eyes and have to squint because the sun is shining bright and spilling between open blinds and light green curtains. My cheek is smashed up against a silk pillowcase instead of my usual breathable cotton, and my body is wrapped and encased inside sheets that touch every inch of my bare, exposed, naked skin.
I'm a little less concerned when I take a deep breath and end up inhaling the scent of Rachel, though. If the light green curtains and open blinds weren't a dead giveaway to the fact that I'm actually inside her bed instead of mine, then smelling the shampoo wafting off her silky hair would definitely be.
I roll off of my stomach and onto my side so I can grab my phone off her nightstand, and my elbow brushes against her soft, smooth skin. So, we're both naked. Not hard to guess what we did last night.
I yawn so wide that it feels like my jaw is unhinged, then glance at the floor to see if maybe I can at least find my shirt. I don't remember ever going home last night, so maybe I slept in a shirt that she gave me instead of a shirt that belonged to me. I can't really tell though, because there's just a big pile of clothes at the bottom of her bed and I don't know what belongs to me and what belongs to her. If I had to guess, I'd say that the summer camp t-shirt was what I initially had on, and the Bette Midler Live! t-shirt is what she had on.
"Rachel," I croak her name through my tired lips, and it's only when I talk that I realize I have a slight headache. I lick my lips and I can still taste the sour alcohol burned against my tongue. "Wake up, baby."
I lean a little closer to her and plant a kiss on the only part of her skin I can reach without having to move my sore body too much; her shoulder. She stirs softly, wrinkles her eyebrows, moans. This isn't the first time I've woken up next to Rachel and it probably won't be the last, but it is the first time that I've ever had to wake her up. All the other times, waking up was mutual, you know? I didn't sleep in the same bed with her the night she was drunk and crashed at my house, I just texted her from the next room and asked if she was awake. Our alarms went off at the same time at sectionals. For my sleepover, I had my own alarm go off so I could get up in time to go to my session with Bailey. Today's the first time we're free to sleep in as long as we want; the first time I can actually coax her out of sleep.
...and I think she might be one of those girls who are really hard to wake up.
"Wake up," I whisper again and all she does is dig her face deeper into her pillow.
A smile tugs at my lips because I think she's just the cutest human in the world right now, and I swiftly decide against waking her up. Maybe she's hungover from last night, because I kind of am. Or maybe last night just tired her out so much that she's not ready to wake up, because it's the same for me actually.
I stay rolled over on my side so I'm facing her back, but I drape my arms over her waist and hold her. She feels hot, and maybe I can just chalk that up to the air blowing off the little space heater on her desk, but I think she must be hot. So I pull the top layer of her quilt away from her body, but I keep the sheet over her. My fingertips graze her warm, sweaty navel, and I trace them from her stomach to her thighs. I can feel a very soft, fine layer of hair on her upper thighs and I think, my god, she's perfect.
"Morning," her sleepy voice cuts through the silence as a chill makes her shudder. She pulls her quilt back up to her neck then holds my hands against her legs. "You okay?"
"Mhm," I nod and pull her body just a little closer to mine. "How'd you sleep?"
"Like a baby," she giggles then starts to roll onto her back. The blankets around her unravel and slightly fall down, and I kind of like the way she doesn't feel the need to fix them. It means that she's comfortable around me. Comfortable enough to let a part of her chest — just above her nipple — hang out. I try to remain respectful by not looking. "I can't believe last night actually happened."
"I know." I grin as I stare up at her ceiling. "I can't believe we didn't get in trouble for anything we did. I can't believe we actually got away with it."
"I know!" She laughs gently then turns her head so that she's looking at me. "I can't believe we didn't die, with you driving like that."
"Oh my god, Rachel, I was so drunk," I close my eyes and shake my head at the memory because honestly? It's a freaking miracle that we didn't wreck. I was in NO shape to drive. "I shouldn't have been driving. Seriously. We should've just stayed at the dance. I would've just taken the fine for fighting if I had gotten one. That was so freaking stupid."
"Yeah, but imagine what would've happened if Sue Sylvester caught Santana with that flask. You know how dead we'd all be? It'd be far more than a fine, we'd probably all be in juvie right now or something. At least maybe Santana would be. We had to run," she rationalizes. "We had no choice."
"Yeah, but I'd take juvie over being dead any day." I mumble and continue to shake my head.
I know she's just trying to make me feel better and trying to make sure that I don't beat myself up for doing something so stupid and reckless, but it's honestly pointless. There's nothing she can say that will make me stop believing that drinking and driving was as reckless as I've been in my entire life. It was selfish and it was stupid and I'm just glad that I didn't kill anyone. I'll never do that again. And I do mean never.
"...You think that girl is going to press charges on me?" I ask her, partly because I'm serious and I'm really wondering, but also because I just needed a way to change the subject.
"Gee, Quinn, I dunno," she laughs so hard that the bed shakes and that's the kind of laugh I like to get out of her. It's the kind of laugh that reminds me that Rachel is happy. "You bit her!"
"I can't believe I bit her. I totally had to have been drunk, I never bit anybody in my life!" I laugh too, but it draws to a close when I feel her fingers brush my hair away from my face.
We're not currently having sex, but this is surely the most intimate moment of my entire life thus far. I never really imagined that I'd love somebody this much. I never saw myself being able to lie in a bed completely naked with someone, just soaking up their entire presence. To me, nudity always kind of meant that it was either before or after sex. It was before the actual deed, when the clothes came off and you closed your eyes and waited for it to be over so you can put your clothes back on. Or, it was after it was done and you finished basking in the afterglow, ready to put your clothes back on. I never thought that maybe nudity would mean that you trust somebody as fully as I trust Rachel in this moment. I never quite saw it as something so beautiful.
"Are you hungry?" She asks, looking at me from underneath her long, curly eyelashes. Her hand lingers around my temple, she's not in a hurry to pull it away. "I can go make us breakfast or something."
"No," I shake my head slowly and stare at her. She's the most beautiful thing in the world to me.
It's kind of scary to love someone this much, I think. It's scary because when you love someone this much, they have complete control over you. They have the ability to break you and you just have to trust that they won't.
"I mean, yeah, I'm hungry," I continue. "But not yet… I wanna stay here. I wanna lay with you for a little."
"We can lay here all day if you want," she smiles at me.
And you know what?
That sounds perfect, actually.
"You like eggnog?" She asks me as she is knelt down in front of the mini fridge she keeps underneath her desk. "I know it's like, hit or miss with some people. You either really like it or you really hate it, so I just got like, one of those really small jugs of it."
"No," I shake my head with my nose turned up just a little. "Gross. My sister goes absolutely nuts over it, but if I even smell it I'll puke." She laughs a little and nods her head like she agrees with me or something. "I'll take water, if you got that."
"Uh, no water I'm afraid. I got hot chocolate. Care for some of that? I made it the right way, too. With milk. Not that nasty watered down crap." She kicks her fridge closed since I said no to the eggnog and pulls two Christmasy mugs from her bottom drawer.
"You made me hot chocolate?!" I gasp like the little kid that Christmastime always makes me feel like I am. "With milk?!"
"Of course I did, kid. It's Christmas Eve! What's Christmas Eve without a little hot chocolate?" She carries the two mugs over to a small, round crockpot and uses a plastic ladle to scoop it out and into them. "Easy on the marshmallows or hard on 'em?"
"Put as many in there as you can fit."
"That's my girl," she laughs and puts a handful of mini marshmallows inside both mugs. "I also brought gingerbread cookies if you're interested in that kind of thing. I bought the kit for Quinn, but he did the whole gingerbread thing with his dad yesterday and he's not into doing it again, so."
"We used to decorate gingerbread cookies at my house all the time. I used to get so mad at my sister because hers turned out so nice and mine turned out like absolute junk." I unwrap one of the peppermint candy canes laying on her desk and use it to stir my hot chocolate. "I'm not artistic, but we can definitely try."
"You've been talking about her a lot lately," she comments as she peels the plastic off the gingerbread cookie kit. "Your sister, I mean. You've been talking about her a lot lately. I assume things are okay with her? You guys still texting a lot?"
"Yeah," I nod. "She wanted me to come see her over the break. She was going to pay for my plane ticket and everything."
"That sounds nice!" She puts the cookie kit in the middle of our table and hands me one of the plastic knives to spread icing. "Are you gonna go?"
"I can't," I sigh. "My mom and dad said no. They said I'm still recovering and everything and they don't feel comfortable with me traveling right now. They said they'd go with me but I was going to stay with Frannie and her boyfriend in their apartment. I don't think there's enough room for all of us to come."
"You sound pretty bummed about that." She sits back in her chair and watches me decorating a cookie instead of decorating one herself. "Were you looking forward to going?"
"I mean kind of, but I understand. I get why they won't let me go, so I'm not mad. It would've been nice to go to Massachusetts to see her, but I don't think I'm missing anything special. Honestly, Bail?" I look up from decorating my cookie. "I'm kinda just excited to spend Christmas with Mercedes' family this year. It'll be my first and I think it's probably more important for me to be here with them than there with Frannie. I mean this morning, they did something really awesome. I guess every year, Dad has this tradition… I guess he goes out every year and buys the kids pajamas and snacks as presents. And on Christmas Eve, he lets us open them. So this morning, I woke up with a present on my bed and I was confused, but then Mercedes told me to open it. You know tonight, we're supposed to put our new pajamas on after we take our showers. And our snacks? We're gonna watch Christmas movies all night in our pajamas and snacks. And they do this every year, Bailey. Every year, and they don't get bored. It's… it's a tradition. It kind of makes me feel like I'm part of something. I… I get Christmas traditions now. Never had that before."
"That's really great, Quinn," she smiles at me like she's genuinely happy for me and I don't think I've ever felt that. Someone being genuinely happy for me, I mean. "It really means something to me that you're thinking in terms of the future. It just shows me how much you've grown. You went from telling me that you didn't think about colleges to telling me that you look forward to having Christmas traditions with your family."
"Yeah…" I whisper. "I guess I kinda did."
"You did. And I think that's something worth celebrating." She smiles at me again and finally picks up a cookie of her own to decorate. "Did you make a Christmas list this year?"
"No," I shake my head and put down all my cookie decorations to really reflect on the answer I'm about to give her. "I know it probably sounds weird and dramatic, but…" I bite my lip. "...I didn't want to ask them for anything else."
"The Joneses?"
"Yeah," I admit, a little bit embarrassed at the way I'm about to pour my heart out. "I guess I just feel like… like they do enough for me? I don't know. I feel like they've already done everything for me. So I just… don't want to ask them for anything else. Mercedes gave her list, you know? She wants those wireless headphones, a new pair of boots, a designer purse… Even Mykel gave them a list. I didn't wanna feel left out, so I gave them a list… but… I don't… know, Bailey."
"Well what did you put on your list?"
"Stupid stuff. Like, a new toothbrush and John Green's latest book." I drum my fingers along the table. "Mom looked at it and told me that it was a great Christmas list, but I could see it in her eyes that she was confused."
"Quinn," Bailey takes a breath and stops decorating her cookie too. "Let me tell you something, kiddo. I understand where you're coming from. Okay?"
"Okay."
"I understand why you'd feel like you don't deserve anything else from them. But what I need you to start realizing is that when Jared and Patrice took you in, they made a choice. They chose to love you and support you and really take you in as their own daughter. I understand you're grateful. I understand you feel like at any moment, they could just pull the rug out from under you, so you shouldn't ask them for too much. But they love you. I've heard them talk about you, they love you. You are their daughter. You're not disposable, Quinn. Stop treating this situation like they're going to throw you out with the trash. Promise me you'll try to do that."
"...I promise."
I guess she's right. I guess I shouldn't think that I'm exempt from the kind of unconditional love they give Mercedes and Mykel. I know it's going to be hard to adjust my thinking. I know it's going to be a long road of trying to trust that no matter what I do, they'll love me as their own. But I do promise that I'll try. At the very least, I will try my hardest to stop thinking that I am disposable to them — my mom and dad.
"So," she starts talking again after taking a bite out of her cookie. "What about Rachel?"
"What about Rachel?" I break off a small piece of my own cookie and pop it in my mouth.
"What are you and her doing tomorrow? It's your first Christmas with her, that's exciting. Tell me about it."
"Rachel's Jewish," I don't mean to rain on her parade when she sounded genuinely curious to know, but it's the truth. We aren't doing anything. "She doesn't do Christmas. At least not the way we do. I mean her dads kind of adopt their own version of Christmas, but to be honest? It kind of sucks."
"So what does she do? Did you get her a present? Are you gonna have dinner with her?"
"Well, usually, she and her dads go see a movie. They eat Chinese at their favorite place down the street, then they go see a movie. But this year, her dads… they're just not in a great place with each other. So I invited her over for dinner tomorrow. She'll come to that. She keeps saying that she'll celebrate it for me, because she knows I grew up catholic, but shouldn't it be me not celebrating for her? I mean obviously one of us is going to have to convert if we get married and have kids someday, but why should it be her?"
"Well who says you'll have to convert? Maybe you won't have to. Maybe you can find a way to do both. You can celebrate the Roman Catholic Christmas and Hanukkah." She shrugs. "It's kinda sweet how she says she'll celebrate it for you, though."
"It is," I agree with a nod. "I asked her if I could give her a Christmas present even though she doesn't celebrate Christmas and she said that she'd celebrate it for me. But I feel bad because I didn't celebrate Hanukkah for her. I should've done something for her. I should've taken her for Chinese. We did the movie thing on Saturday and —"
"You saw a movie on Saturday?"
Oh god… this is a long story!
"...Sort of," I swallow a laugh. "I was getting there. I was going to tell you once we moved on to a different subject, I swear."
"Okay, so now you're scaring me!" She reaches over and turns the volume down on her radio. "Spill!"
"So you know how Saturday was the winter formal dance, right?" I swallow another laugh. "Well… it didn't go as planned. Some girl started making rude comments about me and Rachel being gay, so I got in a fight with her. Apparently I choked her and bit her but I don't remember it because I blacked out and —"
"You bit her?" She looks at me with the most confused look on her face, and it's taking everything in me not to laugh. "Quinn, you're not a dog! You know you're not a dog, right?"
"Listen, I just got mad! But anyway, that's not the important part. The girl's gonna live, she's gonna be fine," I wave my hand at her. "The important part is that we literally ran away from the dance so we didn't get caught drinking. We ran from the dance and then we went to the movies. We wanted to see The Curse of La Llorona, but it's R-rated and none of us are 18 and the lady was being a dick about it. So we got tickets to see Frozen 2 instead and then we just snuck into the other theater. But then we got caught and had to run again. So then we got in the car again and we were bored because it was still early. And we had no alcohol. So then we —"
"Wait, back up," she holds her hand up to stop me. "Who's 'we'? Just you and Rachel?"
"No, me, Rachel, Santana and Brittany. We all went to the dance together since we're the only out gay girls in school."
"Okay, okay. Gotcha. So what happened next? You said you had no more alcohol?"
"No, we didn't. And Santana couldn't go steal anymore off her grandmother because she'd notice, so then we went to Rachel's house and let her go inside her dads' liquor cabinet to get it…"
"How much did you get?!" Santana asked Rachel as soon as she got back inside the car. I could tell by the look on Rachel's face that she felt the same exact rush that we've all felt when we did something sneaky and rebellious. It was fast, exhilarating. Maybe even a little addictive.
She pulled the entire bottle of Fireball Whisky from underneath the slip of her dress and held it up for all of us to see. There had to have been no more than three small sips taken out of it. The bottle was practically completely full, the only thing that indicated it wasn't was the broken seal.
"How's this?!" Rachel beamed, so very proud of herself.
"Oh my god, it's FIREBALL?!" I gasped, more surprised at the fact that she got good liquor than the fact that she got any liquor. I never doubted that she would go in and pull off the alcohol robbery without a hitch. In fact, I knew that she would. Ever since her dads' relationship had been on the rocks, she'd been doing some pretty crazy things.
"I never thought I'd say this, but Rachel Berry, you are my HERO!" Santana bounded to the front of my car and held onto the bottle as if she didn't believe it was actually real. "We're gonna get so fucked up off this…"
"That's the idea," Rachel laid the sarcasm on thick and moved to buckle her seatbelt. "Come on, let's move before my dad gets curious."
"Where are we going?" I asked and put my hand on my keys still hanging out the ignition.
"Drive to the park," Santana suggested. "We can go there and just drink and get shitfaced in peace."
"Anybody have any objections to the park?" I asked. "No? Okay, park it is." I started to twist the key so I could start my car, but then a wave of nausea washed over me. In hindsight, I think it might have been my conscience telling me not to do something stupid for the second time that night. There was a full bottle of whisky in the car and I was about to drive us somewhere so we could drink it.
"Actually guys," I cleared my throat. "Why don't we walk to the park? It's not that far from here, it's like, what? A block?"
"Well, at least you did something responsible that night," Bailey mumbles and scrapes some marshmallow fluff from the bottom of her mug. "You don't seriously need me to tell you how stupid drinking and driving in the first place was, do you?"
"No," I shake my head. "I got it, Bail. I'm beating myself up for it enough already."
"Because you do know how incredibly stupid that was, don't you Quinn?"
"Yeah, I do. Not my proudest moment."
"Okay," she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and I think that's the first time I ever saw Bailey genuinely mad at me. "Continue. What happened when you guys got to the park?"
"Santana, truth or dare?" I hiccuped when I spoke, and my arms felt loose. Somehow I still managed to pass the bottle to Brittany, though.
"Truth," she answered, eyes barely open. "Make it a good one."
"How big are your boobs now?" I asked in a way so blunt that it only made sense if I were drunk. "And did getting them done hurt?"
"It didn't hurt," she giggled uncontrollably like I had just told her the world's funniest joke. "And they're 34D now. And worth every penny, aren't they Britt?"
"Sometimes…" Brittany swayed back and forth with a funny looking smile on her face. "I try to see if I can fit the whole thing in my mouth."
The four of us laughed so loud that the bleachers we sat on started to ring. I couldn't believe that it was cold enough for all of us to see our breath dispersing into the cold, wintry air. It was so cold that little icicles formed on the monkey bars. But none of us felt it. In fact, I was a little hot.
"Rachel," Santana took a long sip then passed it back to me. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth!" Rachel spoke loud, but we didn't say anything to her because there wasn't anyone around to hear her anyway. "Give me… the truth!"
"When's the last time you were horny?"
For a moment, I thought that there was no way in hell Rachel was going to answer that question. I thought that the invasiveness of it would sober her up quick and she'd politely decline and ask for a different question. But boy, was I wrong. She started answering it before Santana even finished asking it.
"Eaaaaarlier," Rachel sang with her head tilted to the sky. "Whennnnn Quinnnn was kicking some ass. THAT turned me on! I was gonna take her to the bathroom and rock! Her! World!"
I started to laugh so hard that I snorted and the alcohol made my nose burn. I was in pain and fanning my face because my nose burned so bad, but I couldn't stop laughing. I loved drunk Rachel, I decided.
"Quinn!" Rachel screamed my name and wrapped her sloppy arm around me. "My beautiful, sexy, hot little piece of ass!" She laughed, burped, laughed again. "Truthhhhh…. or dare?"
"Dare," I shrugged my shoulders and took another sip of the alcohol.
The moon in the sky was starting to become blurry and I felt a cramp in my stomach. I don't remember the last time I was drunk enough to throw up and yet there I was, feeling it rising. If I was sober, I would've worried about throwing up. I would've worried that my throat wasn't healed enough for me to vomit. But I wasn't sober and I didn't care.
"I dare you toooooo," Rachel giggled. "Take all your clothes off… and jump in that lake."
"Fine," I shrugged again and stood up. "But you guys gotta do it with me. I'll only do it if you guys do it too." I started by taking off the top of my dress. I stood in front of them in nothing but my bra and moved on to take off the bottom. "You guys coming?"
"Isn't there a name for that?" Bailey interrupted with genuine curiosity in her voice. "Taking your clothes off and jumping in water in the middle of winter. There's a name for that, isn't there?"
"Polar bear challenge," I answer quickly, with a little bit of shortness in my tone. I don't mean to be rude it's just that I'm getting to the best part and she interrupted me.
"Yeah, that's it!" She snaps her fingers. "Okay, sorry. Keep going."
I don't remember what was worse about doing what we did. I don't remember which part was worse than the other.
I held onto Rachel's hand as we jumped into the water and it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing me all at the same time. Every nerve in my body was on edge, so very alive. I screamed and so did Rachel. Actually, the four of us screamed. We all screamed and raced each other to the edge of the lake, where piles of snow made a barrier to keep us inside.
Jumping in hurt, but I think trying to put dresses back on over our wet clothes hurt worse.
"Quinn, I'm sorry, I don't mean to keep interrupting you, but I'm curious. You guys didn't get into any trouble for this? No underage drinking charge? No public drunkenness? No assault? No trespassing? Nothing?" Bailey asks and if I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounds like she thinks I'm lying…
"Nope." I finish off the last sip of my hot chocolate. "We didn't get caught doing any of it. The girl I beat up could probably still press charges if she wanted to, but we didn't get caught doing anything else."
"So you four just sat in the park and got ridiculously drunk… and then what? Went home and crashed? Lived to tell me the story?"
"We actually walked to the Waffle House across the street to get some food. We had to try and sober up quick so I could try to drive Santana and Brittany home before their curfew. So we went and ordered like a hundred bucks worth of food and stuffed our faces."
"Please tell me you didn't drive at all. Even after eating, you never know if —"
"I didn't, they ended up walking. I was still really drunk even after eating, so," I roll my eyes at Bailey trying to play mother to me. "Rachel asked them if they wanted to stay at her house. We walked back to her house and I texted my mom and dad and said that I was staying there, so she asked if Santana and Brittany wanted to stay too. I guess Brit only lives like two streets away from Rachel, so they walked to her house."
"Oh thank god," she breathes in relief. "Rachel's parents didn't say anything? They just let everything go? They didn't notice something was up?"
"Well not at first…" My voice trails as I think about how the blissful morning of us lying together naked after spending the night having ridiculously mind-blowing sex was cut short. "At first, we went down to her basement and took a shower so he wouldn't hear us. It was like two in the morning when we finally settled down and got home, so we went downstairs and showered. Then we went upstairs and went to bed."
"What do you mean when you say 'not at first' though?"
"Well… the next morning, she got in trouble. We went downstairs to make breakfast… or it was probably more like lunch at that point, but we went down there and her dads were both in the kitchen. They let us eat our breakfast but then after breakfast, Rachel tried to tell them that we were going out to buy Beth's Christmas presents from me. But they got kinda mad at her. And loud with her. And they told her that she was staying in the house…"
"They yelled?"
"...Yeah. And it felt weird because they never yell, but they were like… mad, Bailey. Mad, mad...
"Me and Quinn have some running around to do today," she said as she finished drying the frying pan that we used to make our pancakes in. "I'll be back later."
Hiram took his glasses off and put them on the counter. He rubbed his temple with his eyes closed and I could see the color of his skin turn from ivory to bright red. It was like he was preparing to do something he didn't want to do. Even LeRoy seemed weird. He gripped the edge of the kitchen island and tried his best to look stern, but anger didn't look right on him. It looked weird.
"I'll eat while we're at the mall, so you don't have to worry about me for dinner." Rachel continued and started wiping the stove clean with a dishrag. "And I'll take the Capital One card just in case I see something that I want to get. I'll just —"
"Rachel, we're gonna need you to stay in the house today." LeRoy said and his voice was low, gravelly and angry.
"What?" Rachel chuckled like she didn't think they were serious. "I just told you, me and Quinn have plans. We have to go out and finish her Christmas shopping for Beth. We wanna go today before everything gets picked over and —"
"You are staying in the house today, young lady." LeRoy tried again, a little more stern this time. "You're… grounded. That's it. Yeah. You're grounded."
"For a week." Hiram nodded as his own little two cents. "No phone or… or going places. Nothing with Quinn."
"Wait a minute, this is SO UNFAIR!" Rachel was the first one to raise her voice. "You can't do that! You two are barely —"
"Babe, I'm gonna… run to the bathroom," I mumbled and left the room as quickly and swiftly as possible because it started to feel like it wasn't my place to be there.
"We don't know what's gotten into you lately, but it has to STOP!" LeRoy raised his voice in retaliation.
"What are you talking about?!"
"We're talking about your behavior! It's unacceptable!"
"Honey," Hiram said. "You just haven't been yourself. It's like you're angry all the time, you don't listen to us anymore, you don't respect your curfew or your chores. You don't even go into the reflection room anymore," I watched from around the corner as he tried to touch Rachel's hair, but she shrugged him away. "Sweetheart, we're worried about you…"
"Now you're worried?! You should've been worried about me when you decided to kiss another —"
"You watch your mouth!" LeRoy yelled this time, loud enough to silence Rachel. Loud enough to silence even me, because I stopped breathing. "This isn't about what's going on between us, this is about you. What's gotten into you?! You leave without telling us where you're going, you come home all hours of the night… we love Quinn, but you didn't even ask us if she could spend the night. And now —"
"I never had to ask before! Now all of a sudden since you two can't figure your relationship out, I have to ask to have Quinn over?!"
"You do if you think you're going to be having sex all night under our roof! What happened to keeping the door open when you have your girlfriend over?! What happened to the rules?! To basic respect?!"
"Sweetie, what he's trying to say is…" Hiram sighed. "There's alcohol missing from the cabinet downstairs… I'm not trying to blame you, but what I'm saying is that —"
"You think Quinn did it?" Rachel laughs. "Well joke's on you, because it was me. It was all me. And if you want to ground me for being a normal teenager and doing the things that normal teenagers do, then fine." Rachel handed her phone over to them with no resistance. "But don't act like you two didn't know this was coming. I can't be your little girl forever and when you two are too caught up in your own mess to take care of me, things happen."
"How did it make you feel to witness that? Did you think Rachel was right?" Bailey asks me.
"Honestly?" I sigh. "I was kind of glad they did it. I… I didn't want to stand around and watch Rachel implode. And she was imploding." I sigh again and glance up at the clock. "I guess time's up for the day, huh?"
"For the day," she nods. "One last question before I let you go through, Quinn."
"Yeah?"
"When you said you went to the Waffle House and stuffed your face with food… how did you feel? Did you want to throw it up?"
"Honestly Bailey?"
"Honestly."
"...No. I was just living in the moment and I didn't think about it until now, when you reminded me."
"...Merry Christmas, Quinn," she smiles proudly at me and nods her head once.
"Merry Christmas, Bailey."
