Page 56 of Clinically Awkward

I was absolutely having a panic attack.

“When?” Fitz demanded, his grin so wide it looked painful. “When did this happen? Last night? Is that why you’re whistling? Oh my God, you were WHISTLING! I should’ve known. Nobody whistles unless they’ve gotten properly laid.”

“Fitz.”

“Was it good? It had to be good. You look as if you’ve seen the face of God. Or at least something equally religious.”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Where did it happen? Your place? Her place? Oh God, please tell me it wasn’t in the clinic. Actually, no. Please tell me it WAS in the clinic. I want to be the one to tell Winnie the Pooh. Please let me be the one to tell her.”

“It wasn’t in the clinic!”

“So it DID happen!” Fitz crowed triumphantly. “I knew it! The moment you looked at her just now, I KNEW IT.”

I was going to kill him. I was going to actually murder Fitzpatrick Lovejoy and make it look like an accident. I could do it too. My ancestors fought in the American Revolution. He was just another British invader. No one would miss him. Hell, his family would probably give me a medal!

“How long have you been shagging her?” Fitz continued, pacing now like a detective solving a case. “Wait. Is this why you’ve been in such a good mood? All those weekends you’ve been ‘busy’? Oh my God, you’ve been shagging Julien’s sister for weeks!”

“It was one time!”

The words came out before I could stop them.

Fitz stopped pacing. Turned to look at me. His grin somehow got even wider.

“One time,” he repeated slowly. “Last night.”

I said nothing.

“After she had a terrible date with that wanker boyfriend of hers.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Fitz quickly said, then added. “And now she’s avoiding you like you’ve got the plague, which means it was either absolutely terrible or absolutely incredible, and given the way you look like you’ve been hit by a truck full of endorphins, I’m going with incredible.”

“Are you done?”

“Not even close. Was it⁠—”

The door opened.

Gabriel walked in, looking confused. “What’s going on? I heard shouting.”

“QUINTON SHAGGED VIVIAN!” Fitz announced gleefully.

“FITZ!”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?”

“Last night,” Fitz continued, ignoring my murderous glare. “One time. Apparently incredible. She’s avoiding him. He’s whistling. It’s beautiful.”

Gabriel looked at me. “Is this true?”

I wanted to lie. I wanted to deny everything. I wanted to spontaneously combust and avoid this entire conversation. Instead, I slumped against the conference table and put my head in my hands.

“Oh my God,” Gabriel said. “It is true.”

“I’m so screwed,” I muttered.