Page 69 of Clinically Awkward

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re all here.”

“We’ll leave!”

“You will?”

“No,” Nathan said. “But we’ll pretend to.”

I groaned and typed back.

Me: The four idiots are trying to keep me alive.

Vivian: Tell them I said hi.

Me: I’ll tell them you said to leave.

Vivian: That works too. Good luck with the funeral planning.

Me: Thanks. I’ll need it.

I set my phone down and looked at my friends.

“She says hi.”

“Aww,” Fitz cooed. “She’s checking on you. That’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable. It’s a normal human concern.”

“It’s adorable,” Gabriel said. “And it means she cares.”

“Of course she cares. We’re friends.”

“You’re not friends,” Nathan said. “You’re in love.”

“I’m not⁠—”

“Quinton,” Hayden interrupted, his expression surprisingly serious. “Let me give you some advice. From someone who’s older and arguably wiser.”

“You’re forty-eight.”

“Exactly. I’ve seen things. I’ve learned things. And one thing I’ve learned is this: when you find someone who makes you happy. Genuinely, stupidly, irrationally happy, you don’t let them go. Even if it’s complicated. Even if it’s scary. Even if your best friend might remove your spleen with a scalpel.”

I stared at him.

“That’s actually good advice,” I said.

“I know. I’m full of surprises.”

Fitz tipped his beer with a flourish, eyebrows arched, eyes sparkling mischief. He winked at me, the overhead lights catching the glint in his gaze. “To Quinton and Vivian—may their love burn brighter than Nathan’s sarcasm, their chemistry sizzle louder than Hayden’s questionable jokes, and may Julien’s meltdown tomorrow be nothing short of legendary.”

Nathan rolled his eyes, lips twitching, tapping his bottle against the table with a dull thunk. He deadpanned, “Hear, hear—but only because I’m dying to see the look on Julien’s face. And maybe witness a spleen removal.”

Gabriel smiled. “To doing the right thing, even when it’s terrifying.”

They clinked bottles.