Page 124 of Clinically Awkward

Julien glared at me, and I immediately regretted speaking.

“Do you think this is funny?” he asked, his voice dropping to that dangerous quiet again.

“No. No, absolutely not. This is very serious. Extremely serious. I’m taking this very⁠—”

“I trusted you.” He started walking again, circling the table like a shark. “I left you in charge because I believed, foolishly, apparently, that you would maintain order. That you would keep Fitz from doing something catastrophically stupid. That you would ensure the clinic continued to operate with professionalism and dignity.”

He stopped directly behind my chair.

I could feel him looming.

“And instead,” he continued, “I return to find that not only did you fail to prevent a bar brawl, you participated in one. You. The man I trusted most threw a punch that started a chain reaction of chaos, resulting in property damage, five arrests, and a front-page newspaper story that will haunt this clinic’s reputation for years.”

“Technically,” I said, “Fitz escalated⁠—”

“I don’t care about technicalities.” Julien walked around to face me again, and I realized with growing horror that he was getting closer. “I care about the fact that I can’t take one week—one week—without everything falling apart.”

He took another step forward, and I leaned back in my chair.

“I care about the fact that my colleagues—my friends—thought it was appropriate to engage in a physical altercation in a public establishment.”

Another step.

I was running out of chair to lean back in.

“I care about the fact that when I specifically asked you to hold down the fort, you interpreted that as ‘start a riot.’”

He was right in front of me now, hands on the table, leaning down so we were eye level.

“So I’m going to ask you one question, Quinton. And I want you to think very carefully before you answer.”

Oh God. This is it.

This is where he kills me.

“What,” Julien said slowly, “could you possibly say to justify this level of catastrophic incompetence?”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

My brain was screaming at me to say something intelligent. Something diplomatic. Something that would prevent my immediate termination and/or murder.

Instead, what came out was:

“I’m in love with your sister and we’ve been sleeping together for weeks and I punched her boyfriend because he called her boring and I couldn’t let that stand because she’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met and I know you’re going to kill me but I don’t care because she’s worth it and also Fitz started the bar fight not me I just threw one punch but then everything escalated and Hayden tried to leave but Nathan grabbed him and Gabriel was trying to be the voice of reason but then someone insulted his wife and he lost it too and Fitz was singing ‘God Save the Queen’ while being arrested and I know this is bad I know we’re on the front page and I know you trusted me but I swear I was trying to do the right thing and I love Vivian I really love her and I’m sorry about the newspaper and the arrests and the property damage but I’m not sorry about punching Colton because he’s a terrible person and he didn’t deserve her and I know you’re going to fire me or kill me or both but I just needed you to know that I love your sister and I’m not going to apologize for that even though I’m apologizing for literally everything else and⁠—”

I ran out of breath.

Julien was staring at me. Just... staring. Like I had grown a second head. Or possibly a third.

The silence stretched and stretched and stretched.

I was pretty sure I had stopped breathing.

“You...” Julien said slowly. “You’re sleeping with Vivian?”