Page 120 of Clinically Awkward

“The photographer really captured my essence,” Fitz mused, tilting his head. “Roguish yet refined. Dangerous yet debonair.”

“You look like a drunk idiot,” Hayden said.

“A handsome drunk idiot.”

Hayden stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “That’s it. I’m done. I quit.”

“You can’t quit,” Gabriel said.

“Watch me.” Hayden headed for the door. “I’m forty-eight years old. I’ve dedicated my entire life to medicine. I’ve earned a peaceful retirement. I’m going to move to Florida, buy a boat, and never speak to any of you again.”

“You get seasick,” I pointed out.

“I’LL TAKE DRAMAMINE!”

“Hayden—”

“No,” he pointed at the newspaper. “I am not explaining to Julien Darcy why my face is on the front page of the New Haven Journal because we got arrested for brawling in a sports bar like a bunch of degenerates.”

“Technically,” Fitz said, “we were arrested for disorderly conduct and⁠—”

“I don’t care about the technicalities!”

Vivian was staring at the newspaper, her face pale. “This is... bad.”

“Bad?” Nathan repeated. “BAD? This is a catastrophe. This is a career-ending, reputation-destroying, Julien-will-murder-us-all catastrophe.”

“It’s not that bad,” Fitz said.

“IT’S THE FRONT PAGE!”

“At least they spelled our names right,” Fitz said cheerfully.

I scanned the article, my stomach sinking with every word.

“Five local doctors from Clinically Approved, New Haven’s fastest-growing medical clinic, were arrested Friday night following an altercation at The Rusty Nail sports bar. Witnesses report the fight began when Dr. Quinton Wesley, 32, allegedly punched another patron. The situation escalated quickly, involving all five doctors and resulting in significant property damage. Dr. Fitzpatrick Lovejoy, 36, was reportedly heard singing ‘God Save the Queen’ while being escorted out by police...”

“Oh my God,” I said. “They quoted you singing.”

“It’s a good song,” Fitz said defensively.

“You were being arrested.”

“And I maintained my dignity throughout.”

“You were singing.”

“Beautifully, according to witnesses.”

Gabriel put his head in his hands. “We’re never going to live this down.”

“My mother is going to see this,” Nathan said, his voice rising. “My mother. She reads the New Haven Journal every morning with her coffee. She’s going to call me. She’s going to yell. She’s going to tell all her friends at book club that her son got arrested for bar fighting.”

“At least you’re not the one who punched someone,” I muttered.

“At least people can see your face in the photo!”

“Can we please focus?” Gabriel said, looking at me. “Quinton, you need to control this situation.”