Trepidation floods my veins as I walk through the double-doors of On Tap. Normally, I'd be looking forward to tonight—including the part where I get to see Brooke, if I'm being brutally honest with myself. But ever since the other night, things between us have been tense, and not in a fun sexual way.

Adding to my long list of grievances is the fact that I'm running late, which is both out of character for me and supremely irritating. Even worse, it's self-inflicted; I purposely left later than I normally would have. Why, I'm not sure. Avoiding Brooke, not wanting to seem overly eager to see her, maybe some combination of both.

Ultimately, in the way that I tend to overachieve, I pushed it too late and now I've missed the requested 7:00 PM arrival time by ten minutes. Brendan and Vidya aren't due to arrive until 7:30, but it's the principle. I'm always punctual.

I greet our hostess at the front as I continue to the back where we've reserved a set of tables. It's semi-secluded from the rest of the bar, which helps the surprise element of the party. Top 40 music plays in the background, mingled with chatter from the nearly-full seating area. Fridays are one of our busiest nights and tonight is no exception. Things are already beginning to pick up after the usual winter break lull.

Turns out I'm more behind schedule than I thought, because when I draw closer I realize everyone else is already here. There are a handful of guys from Brendan's firm in attendance, along with all of our close friends. Most notably, Brooke is standing with her back turned away from me, talking to her friend Peyton.

You know you're late if Brooke beats you somewhere. She's never on time. Hell, she was probably born late.

I navigate through the clusters of tables, covertly checking out Brooke in the process, and any hope I had of not ogling her tonight promptly crumbles to dust. Her long chestnut hair is in loose waves, tumbling down her back, and it just makes me think of how good it looked against my pillow.

My eyes travel lower, taking in her light grey long-sleeved sweater, swingy black mini-skirt, and black over-the-knee boots, and my thoughts get increasingly dirty, filled with a combination of things we've done and things I'd like to do to her.

Damnit. Focus, Dean. Now is not the time.

Not to mention, I should never have crossed that line with Brooke in the first place. I definitely shouldn't cross it again.

Jason and Sawyer are seated at the long rectangular table in the center, already halfway into their drinks. I make a beeline for the table, avoiding the temptation to look over at Brooke again.

"Hey." I slide into an empty chair beside Jason, across from the other two. Gold and silver balloons adorn the wall behind us thanks to Brooke and Vidya's decorating efforts earlier today. Vidya declined my offer to help, which was a relief on several levels.

Sawyer raises his full eyebrows. "You decided to show up."

"We were beginning to wonder," Jason says, only half-joking. As I said, I'm never late. I'd never hear the end of it if they knew the reason why, either.

"Like I'd ever miss Brendan's party."

We make begin to make small talk and I do my best to focus on the conversation at hand, but my gaze keeps wandering over to Brooke. Between her outfit tonight, her ghosting me, and her backing into my car, I'm more certain than ever that she is out to ruin me—and succeeding. That miniskirt is going to live in my memory rent-free until the end of time... along with that purple dress from New Year's.

"Is that Brooke's friend?" Jay nods in Brooke and Peyton's direction. "I think I recognize her from the gym. She's a smoke show."

"Uh-huh. Her name is Peyton," I tell him absentmindedly, only half-listening.

In addition to Peyton, who is admittedly attractive, Brooke is standing with some guy I don't recognize. He's in a reasonably expensive suit and he's well-groomed in a generic, corporate way. I'm pretty sure he's from Brendan's firm—and from the way he's drooling over at Brooke, I can tell I'm not the only one who likes the way she looks in that skirt.

Brooke must sense me looking at her because she glances in my direction. Our eyes lock and she startles slightly. We both quickly look away, pretending it never happened. Normally, Brooke and I would cross paths, exchange some hateful banter and go about our separate ways. In this new world, the tension between us just keeps escalating.

"How are things going with your, uh, proceedings?" I ask Jason, returning my attention to the table. Or trying to, anyway. "You met with your lawyer today, right?"

Jason makes a face, peeling the paper label off his beer bottle. "I signed the papers today. Should be a done deal by next week."

Sawyer and I cringe, unsure what to say, and I'm sorry I asked. I'm trying to be there for the guy, but sometimes it feels like rubbing salt in a wound. In my opinion, he needs to move on to take his mind off things—even just for a night—but so far he hasn't taken that advice. Maybe his interest in Peyton is a positive sign that he's thinking about it.

"Sorry, dude." Sawyer takes a sip of his beer.

"Yeah," I say, "That's rough. I know it's hard, but you'll be better off."

Jason nods silently, staring at the table. His split from his soon-to-be ex-wife Riley was something straight out of a TV drama. First, she got up and moved out one day without warning. He came home from working late to find an empty house. As if bailing wasn't enough, she had to take all their stuff, too. Even his XBox and his new 65-inch flatscreen TV.

Then she lawyered up and went after every asset she had claim to, and even some she didn't. Drew out the whole process to be twice as long as necessary and ten times as acrimonious. In the end, he got to keep the house—but only because he paid through the nose to one of the most cutthroat divorce lawyers in town. When all is said and done, he'll be single-handedly putting his divorce attorney's kids through college. Private, not state.

A cloud of awkward silence looms over the table. We all nurse our beers, pretending to be immersed in the game on TV opposite our table. Except it's switched to a commercial and now we're watching an ad for minty fresh whitening toothpaste like it's the most interesting thing we've ever seen.

Brooke checks her phone and rushes around, shushing everyone. "That's Vidya. They're two minutes away. Everyone get ready."

An awkward kerfuffle ensues as everyone tries to figure out how to get ready given that there's no place to actually hide. We settle for taking our seats and waiting.

Monents later, Vidya steers Brendan into the back section. "Sawyer said to meet him back here. Needed to give you something for the wedding—"

As they round the corner and come into our line of sight, everyone yells surprise.

Brendan's eyes land on all of us, lighting up. "What?You guys didn't have to do all this."

"Sure we did," Vidya says, giving him a peck on the cheek. "You only turn 30 once."

He laughs and pulls out the vacant seat to my right, sinking into it. "Don't remind me."

Dinner is a good, albeit short-lived distraction from the elephant in the room. Having Brendan sitting next to me forced me not to ogle his sister, which is helpful when it comes to keeping my brain out of the gutter and actually carrying on coherent conversation.

After the plates are cleared, we make our way to the main part of the lounge where the bar and pool tables are located. Brooke and I continue to avoid each other in a delicate dance that no one else seems to notice. Or maybe they just think it's par for the course. I guess it is, even though the reasons have changed.

An hour and a half in, Brooke cracks first and approaches the bar when I'm standing alone waiting for a refill. The music has now been turned up to blaring, the lights are dimmed, and she's likely had a glass or two of liquid courage. Still, I can sense her apprehension as she walks up to me. I both like and hate the fact that I make her nervous.

Brooke leans with her back against the bar, facing me. "Get your car fixed?" The hem of her grey sweater rides up slightly, exposing the slightest hint of smooth, bare skin. Knowing that lies beneath that sweater is a special kind of torture.

"Not yet." It's on my to-do list, but not a top priority this week. I've been more focused on not losing my mind.

She furrows her brow and her pale blue eyes search mine. "Are you refusing to let me pay so that you can throw it back in my face later and call me irresponsible?"

Seriously? I can't believe how little she seems to think of me. I know I was a dick about it, but I also know she can't afford to pay to have it fixed. And I can, easily. So why would I take her money? While it was technically her fault, it was an accident.

"Do you honestly think that's why—" My retort is interrupted by someone placing a warm hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey stranger."

I turn to find Holly looking at me expectantly. Her copper-pink hair is shorter than when I last saw her she's wearing a low-cut white dress that accentuates her hourglass figure with generous cleavage on display.

There is no possible way to spin this. I can't even lie and say it isn't what it looks like, because it's exactly what it looks like; Holly is someone I sleep with casually. But I haven't seen her in a few weeks and have no intention of doing that again in light of what's happening with Brooke.

"Oh, look at that. Vidya needs me," Brooke says. "Excuse me." She flashes us a tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes and speedwalks over to where Vidya is standing by the pool table. Vidya glances in my direction and Brooke shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

Like he'd been waiting for the chance to swoop in, the guy from earlier—who I now know is Nolan—walks up to join them. He flashes Brooke a flirty grin, leaning in closer to say something, and I have the almost overwhelming urge to punch him in face.

Brooke levels a glare in my direction, so quick I almost miss it, before returning to her conversation with Nolan. I guess neither of us is happy with this turn of events.

"So?" Holly purrs, stroking my arm. "What do you say?"

My attention flicks back over to her. "I'm sorry?" I have no idea what she just said. I'd forgotten she was even here. I was too busy fantasizing about drowning Nolan in his mug of beer.

Holly bats her long, dark eyelashes and leans closer so I could see straight down her dress, if I were to look, but I don't take the bait. "I said we should get out of here. My place or yours?"

No wonder Brooke wants to kill me right now. Even I have to admit this is a bad look.

"Tonight isn't going to work," I tell her. "It's Brendan's 30th, I can't cut out early."

"All right. I'll be with my friends on the other side if you change your mind. Otherwise, you know my number." Holly winks at me before turning and sashaying away. I obviously don't intend to take her up on her invitation, but in Brooke's eyes, I'm sure the damage is already done.

Reluctantly, I join the guys for a game of pool and get my ass thoroughly kicked—twice. Mostly because I can't focus with Nolan trying to put the moves on Brooke a couple feet away. He's laying it on thick and while she isn't quite flirting back, she is definitely humoring him. The urge to hit him with my pool cue is almost too much to resist.

A few minutes after we wrap up the second game, Nolan finally fucks off and I steal the opportunity to talk to Brooke while everyone else is occupied.

I slide into the tall bar stool next to her. "Sorry about that."

Though, I'm not totally sure why I am the only one apologizing after her disappearing act the other morning. What the fuck was that? First I was hurt, but now I'm just kind of pissed.

Brooke crosses her legs, angling herself away from me. "Oh, no need to be sorry. You're popular, I get it." The words are neutral, but her voice is sarcasm coated with acid.

"So are you, apparently."

She huffs in a cross between amusement and irritation. Probably because I just showed my hand and now she knows I was hating every second of Nolan simping over her.

"Difference is, Nolan isn't some random party crasher. He's here for Brendan."

"Should I have sent her away on the spot?" I ask. "I was trying to be polite."

Her glossy pink lips curve into a sardonic smirk. "Because if there's one word I'd use to describe you, it's definitely polite. So was that Amber? Or Bambi? Or Crystal?" She ticks the names off on her fingers. "I can never keep them all straight."

She's not entirely wrong, which makes it hard to rebut her point.

"No one important." Holly knows exactly what we are—or aren't.

Brooke scoffs, taking a sip of her beer. "They never are."

"You are."

Brooke blinks slowly, giving me a blank look like she doesn't know what to say. I don't know what to say either. A few seconds crawl by and neither of us says anything.

It's just beginning to get painfully awkward when Brendan walks up, putting an arm around both of us. "Looky here, two of my favorite people playing nice for once."

Guilt sucker punches me in the gut, because he has no idea what happened between the two of us. Much as Brendan loves me, I know he'd be pissed, and rightfully so—I can't even pretend my intentions with Brooke are honorable.

"Consider it a birthday present." Brooke laughs, giving him a one-armed hug. "And don't get too used to it."

"Either way, I'll take it." Brendan sways slightly. If he wasn't holding onto us, I think he'd have fallen over. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, probably because Jason and Sawyer have been plying him with drinks all night. And people call me the bad influence friend.

Vidya rushes over, concern across her face. "You shouldn't have let Jason give you all that tequila," she admonishes him.

"I'm fine," Brendan insists, slurring. He releases his hold on the two of us, wrapping his arm around her, and she struggles to help keep him vertical. "Just suuuuuper. I'm loving life with all of you lovely people."

When Brendan starts getting expressive about his emotions, that's when you know he's too far gone. Well, that and the fact that he's begun to serenade us with an off-key rendition of "You've Got A Friend In Me."

I raise my voice to be heard over his enthusiastic chorus. "I think you might need to get him home, Vidya."

She nods, regarding him with barely concealed amusement. "I think so too. He had a good run, at least."

Brendan strokes Vidya's long, dark hair affectionately and makes a remark about how "pretty" it is. He's such a sap, but even my cold, dead heart finds it kind of endearing.

"You never could hold your liquor." Brooke grins, shaking her head as she watches Brendan, who's started to dance on the spot.

Brendan is undeterred and continues to sing.

To be fair, if I'd drank as much as he had, I would be plastered too. That's why I conveniently disappeared every time they all headed to the bar to do shots. While I'm trying to navigate this situation with Brooke, I need to be on my A-game.

"Do you two need a ride?" I ask Vidya, hoping she'll say no.

Vidya waves me off, leaning against Brendan to hold him upright. "I haven't been drinking, so I'm fine to drive. Had a hunch he might end up like this."

"I can't believe I'm old." His face twists into a slightly disgusted frown. "30 is old."

I clear my throat. "Been 30 for 7 months over here, my friend."

"Right?" Brendan looks at me, wide-eyed. "We're both old. When did that happen?"

Brooke covers her mouth, stifling a laugh because she can tell I'm less than pleased to be called old. And also because it's given her something else to needle me with, since she's a little more than five years younger.

"Do you need a ride, Brooke?" Vidya asks.

"Well, Peyton left with Jay, so I guess I do." Brooke shrugs, raking her fingers through the ends of her hair—a nervous tell of hers. "She was supposed to be my ride."

"I can give you a ride," I offer.

I'm glad Jason is moving on, but I'm extra glad he's left Brooke without a ride. If I can get her alone, maybe I can get some goddamn answers out of her.

Plus, Brooke's place is in the opposite direction of Brendan and Vidya's from here, clear across the highway and several exits down; mine is much closer, which makes it hard for Brooke to justify saying no to me. Especially when Brendan thinks we've called some kind of temporary truce.

Vidya's gaze swivels from me to Brooke. "Yeah?" Her warm brown eyes study Brooke questioningly. "Is that okay?"

Brooke shoots daggers at me with her eyes that no one else appears to notice. She looks like she wants to strangle me, but I don't particularly care. I want an explanation. Ideally, followed by a repeat of the other night—minus the leaving part.

"It's great," Brooke says cheerily, but I can tell it's anything but. "Thanks, Dean."

Are they going to fight? Or...