Page 102 of Clinically Awkward

Fitz kept going. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Because Vivian doesn’t need anyone. She’s completely self-sufficient. Independent. The kind of woman who⁠—”

“Fitz,” Nathan hissed. “Stop talking.”

“—could have anyone she wanted. Anyone. And she chose—well, she chose you, which is baffling, honestly, because I’ve seen her standards and they’re generally quite high. It’s like watching someone with a first-class ticket voluntarily sit in cargo.”

“FITZ!” Gabriel said loudly.

Colton stood up. “I’m gonna grab another pitcher.”

He walked toward the bar where a waitress was wiping down the counter. A pretty waitress. A pretty waitress who smiled when Colton leaned against the bar and said something I couldn’t hear.

I watched him laugh. Watched him flex—actually flex—while talking to her. Watched her giggle and touch his arm.

“Oh no,” Nathan said.

“Is he?” Gabriel started.

“He’s hitting on the waitress,” Hayden confirmed. “While his girlfriend’s coworkers watch.”

“Well,” Fitz said, taking a leisurely sip of his beer, “I suppose when you’re in a committed relationship, it’s important to keep your options open. Very modern of him. Very progressive.”

“Unbelievable,” I muttered.

I drank the rest of my beer.

Then I poured another.

Then I drank that one, too.

“Quinton,” Gabriel said carefully. “Maybe slow down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re doing that thing where your jaw gets tight and⁠—”

“I’m fine.”

Colton returned with the pitcher and a napkin with a phone number on it. He waved it at us. “Got her digits.”

“Congratulations,” Fitz said pleasantly. “Nothing says ‘I’m in a healthy, fulfilling relationship’ quite like collecting phone numbers from service workers. Really shows commitment.”

That was it.

That was the moment I snapped.

“Vivian’s dumping you!” I shouted.

The table went silent.

Colton blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. She’s dumping you. For a better man. An unquestionably smarter man.”

“Quinton,” Gabriel said urgently. “Stop talking.”

“A man who actually deserves her,” I continued. “Who doesn’t spend every conversation talking about his car, or his biceps, or his stupid protein shakes.”

Colton’s face went red. “Who the hell do you think you are?”