Page 129 of Clinically Awkward

“It was a moving target!”

“Trees don’t move, Nathan,” Hayden said.

“THAT ONE DID.”

Fitz was up next. He stepped up to the tee with the kind of confidence that suggested he was about to either hit a hole-in-one or launch the ball into another dimension. “So,” he said casually, addressing his ball. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

I nearly choked on my beer. “You’ve been what?”

“Seeing someone,” Fitz repeated, swinging. The ball sailed perfectly down the fairway. “Her name’s Margot. She’s a flight attendant. French. Absolutely stunning. Legs for days. Speaks four languages. Makes the most incredible⁠—”

“We get it,” Hayden interrupted. “She’s attractive and multilingual. What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.”

“There’s always a catch with you,” Nathan said.

“I’m offended,” Fitz said, walking back to his cart. “Truly. You all act like I’m some kind of serial flirt who can’t commit to a relationship.”

We all stared at him.

“You ARE a serial flirt who can’t commit to a relationship,” Gabriel said.

“I’m reformed,” Fitz insisted. “Margot’s different. She’s sophisticated. Cultured. She doesn’t take any of my shit.”

“How long have you been seeing her?” I asked.

“Two days.”

“TWO DAYS?” Hayden looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. “You’ve been dating someone for two days and you’re already calling it a relationship?”

“It’s a modern romance,” Fitz said defensively. “We’re taking it slow.”

“You’ve probably already slept with her,” Nathan said.

“Well, obviously.”

“THAT’S NOT TAKING IT SLOW.”

“It is by my standards,” Fitz said cheerfully, climbing into his cart. “Besides, she’s flying back to Paris next month, so it’s not like it’s going to last. But it’s nice while it lasts, you know?”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” I said.

“It’s realistic.”

“It’s depressing.”

“You’re just jealous because you’re in a committed relationship and can’t have meaningless flings with French flight attendants anymore.”

“I’m not jealous,” I said. “I’m concerned about your emotional well-being.”

“My emotional well-being is fine,” Fitz said. “Unlike Julien’s, apparently.”

Julien, who had been staring into the middle distance like a man contemplating the futility of existence, looked up. “I’m fine.”

“You just said the universe is out to get you,” Gabriel pointed out.

“It is.”