Page 63 of Clinically Awkward

“Make yourselves at home,” I said flatly, watching Nathan sprawl across my couch while Gabriel claimed the armchair.

“Already did!” Fitz emerged from the kitchen with five beers, passing them around like we were at a goddamn party.

Hayden took his beer and sat on the other end of the couch, looking confused. “Okay, does someone want to tell me what’s going on? Why are we ambushing Quinton at”—he checked his watch—“11:30 on a Wednesday night?”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Nathan said, grinning.

I groaned and collapsed into the remaining chair, accepting my beer with the resignation of a man facing his own execution.

“Quinton,” Fitz said, perching on the arm of the couch like some kind of deranged game show host, “would you like to tell Hayden, or should we?”

“I would like you all to leave.”

“Not an option.”

“I’d like to go back in time and make better life choices.”

“Also not an option.”

“I’d like to⁠—”

“He shagged Vivian,” Fitz announced all too happily.

The room went silent.

Hayden’s beer stopped halfway to his mouth.

He stared at Fitz.

Then at me.

Then back at Fitz.

“I’m sorry,” Hayden said slowly. “Did you just say⁠—”

“He shagged Vivian Darcy,” Fitz repeated, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Julien’s sister. Our Vivian. The woman who works at our clinic and who is related to our best friend, the neurosurgeon. The most uptight, straitlaced doctor at the clinic.”

Hayden’s face went through several expressions in rapid succession: confusion, disbelief, shock, horror, and then he started laughing. Not a chuckle. Not a polite laugh. Full-body, uncontrollable, tears-streaming-down-his-face howling. “Oh my God,” he gasped between fits of laughter. “Oh my God. You—you actually—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. He just kept laughing, clutching his beer like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“It’s not that funny,” I muttered.

“It’s hilarious,” Hayden wheezed. “You. The man who swore off dating. Who gave us an entire speech about the marriage trap, and you slept with JULIEN’S SISTER?”

“When you say it like that.”

“How else should I say it?” Hayden wiped his eyes. “Quinton, you’re a dead man. You’re a dead man walking. Julien is going to remove your organs with a scalpel and use them for teaching demonstrations, with spreadsheets, diagrams, and color coding.”

“That’s what I said!” Nathan crowed.

“This is the best thing that’s happened all year,” Hayden continued, still laughing. “No. All DECADE. This is... oh God, I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down,” Gabriel pointed out.

“I need to sit down more.”

Fitz raised his beer. “To Quinton Wesley: brilliant doctor, loyal friend, and absolute moron.”

“Hear, hear,” Nathan and Hayden chorused, clinking bottles.