In less then 24 hours, Brooke and I will be on a date.

I have no idea what that means, which is one of several pressing issues I'm facing right now.

More urgently, I'm sitting across from Brendan for Thursday night poker night at his house, trying not to slip up and talk about Brooke. Trying to stop my mind from spiraling into assorted fantasies about tomorrow—some PG, most of them not—when I should be focusing on the game happening right in front of me. In other words, trying not to lose my shit.

It's proving to be more of a challenge than I expected, which greatly concerns me.

"Call." Brendan says, sliding a hefty stack of chips forward into the pot.

I come crashing back to reality. Did Brendan just call me instead of folding? He never calls me.

Jay, Sawyer and have been crowded around a folding table in the den beside Brendan's pool table for the past two hours, along with a couple other guys from Brendan's firm, including my least favorite person: Nolan. AKA, the guy who kept trying to put the moves on Brooke at Brendan's party.

Since I have no reasonable excuse for disliking the guy, and he's been nothing but perfectly polite to me, I have to polite to him in return, which is even more aggravating.

Adding insult to injury is that we're crammed so close together, he's practically sitting in my lap. We usually play at Brendan's kitchen table, which is significantly larger and more comfortable, but we set up in here to keep from disturbing Vidya. While I offered to host instead, Brendan wanted to be home in case she needed anything. Completely understandable, but I could do without feeling Nolan's breath on the back of my neck.

"Sorry, what?" I glance up at Brendan and find him regarding me with a self-satisfied smile. He's got me, and he knows it.

"He called you, Hollis," Jason helpfully explains. There is no shortage of glee across his face, either.

Sawyer returns with a fresh beer in his hand, sliding in beside me. "What's going on?" He looks at the table and lets out a low whistle. "Damn, you guys really upped the pot while I was gone taking that call."

That we did. We tripled it. Most of my chips are sitting in the middle of the table, and I'm about to lose.

"I called him," Brendan tells Sawyer, before turning back to me with raised his eyebrows. "Because I don't think you have shit."

I glance down at my hand: he's right. I have pocket threes, which didn't translate into anything better.

The flop was a ten of clubs, jack of clubs, and king of spades; the turn was a six of clubs; and the river was a queen of hearts. There's a straight and flush possibility on the board and, like Brendan just said, I don't have shit.

But usually, I can fake him out and take the pot. Actually, I always can. Until today.

"Fine," I grumble.

When I flip over my cards, revealing a three of diamonds and three of spades, triumph registers on Brendan's face. He turns over his, revealing an unsuited nine through king straight.

Goddamnit.

Brendan reaches over and rakes the pile of winnings over to his spot. Jay is suppressing laugher—barely. And Brendan's coworkers, Nolan, Clay, and Parker watch the spectacle. They don't know me well enough to join in on the ribbing, but they also appear to be quietly amused by my misfortune. Especially since I trounced everyone for the first ten hands and took a fucking nosedive after Brendan brought up Brooke. Hopefully, no one connects those dots.

Sawyer leans across the table, scanning at my rapidly dwindling pile of chips. "Dean, are you down?" His expression is incredulous, like he just spotted a comet shooting across the sky.

By 'down', he means that I have less than I bought in with. And yes, I am down.

"I'll make it up."

On the next hand, I lose to Jason who somehow pulls a full house out of his ass and beats my straight. And the hand after that, Sawyer and I go head to head, only for him to beat my three of a kind with a flush I didn't even realize was on the fucking board.

"I'm going to get a drink." I push my chair away from the table and head for the hallway. Maybe some water will get my head straight. Probably not, though. Most of my issues as of late pertain to the other head and the fact that he's the one making all the decisions.

"Didn't know you were such a poor loser," Jay calls.

"I'm still in the game," I call back.

A moment later, I cross the threshold to the kitchen and find Vidya standing in front of the fridge. She's wearing a baggy pair of black sweatpants and Brendan's college sweatshirt, which is two sizes too large for her, and no makeup. It's a stark departure from her usual, which is the female version of Brendan, preppy and pulled together. But he said she's been struggling a lot with post-concussive symptoms and I'm guessing she's not having a good day.

"Hey." I rap on the doorframe, trying not to startle her as I approach.

She looks up from the fridge, giving me a tired smile. "Hey, hows it going?"

"Not good," I admit.

"Aren't you guys playing poker?" Her forehead crinkles in confusion.

"Yup."

She nods slowly, but the confusion lingers on her face. It's not the usual response you'd expect from me on poker night. Usually I'd swagger into the room, high off the thrill of winning.

Carefully stepping around her, I open the cabinet above the sink and take out a water glass. When I reach to turn on the kitchen faucet, Vidya shuts the fridge, motioning for me to use the filtered dispenser instead. Lucky thing, because city water tastes disgusting.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, waiting for my glass to finish filling. It's excruciatingly slow, like they need to change the filter, and I make a note to tell Brendan.

Vidya sighs and leans against the counter, hiding her hands in the cuffs of her sweatshirt. Her face folds into a frown. "Also not good. These dizzy spells are killing me. It's like having the spins. And I couldn't even get through a short walk around the neighborhood yesterday. I don't know how I'll ever get back to exercising like I used to."

Having played years of sports, I am no stranger to concussions, and I know exactly what she's talking about. They're a lot more debilitating than most people realize. There's really no such thing as a 'mild' concussion; it's still a brain injury.

"It'll take some time to get back to where you used to be. Sometimes it isn't always linear, either," I tell her. "I would have good days and bad days. After a few good days, sometimes I'd get too confident and overdo it, causing a setback."

"It's so frustrating, right? No one gets it unless they've dealt with it firsthand." She pulls open the pantry, rummaging through it, and turns back to me empty-handed. Classic boredom eating. Been there too. If you aren't supposed to be on screens, sometimes all you can do is eat

"Incredibly frustrating," I agree. "Have you looked into vestibular rehab? Might be worth a shot if those are the kinds of symptoms you're grappling with."

Feels weird to give a med student advice, but I also know they cover shockingly little about concussions in med school, and what they do cover mostly focuses on the acute care side of things. Aside from a handful of specialties like neurology and sports medicine, they don't often talk about the lingering effects and how to address them. I know this firsthand, because I've navigated that maze.

"No," she murmurs, "but I should. Good idea." Her face brightens. "Anyway, how was the menu tasting with the caterer?"

"It was great," I tell her, intentionally omitting the part where the owner was a little unhinged and now thinks Brooke and I are the ones getting married. I'd filed that information under 'problem for another day' and 'tell Brendan later'. "Did you agree with our menu selection?"

"Yes, it looks perfect. Those donuts were freaking amazing, too. Thanks for dropping them off." Vidya pauses. "How was everything with you and Brooke? Any issues there?"

Even better than the food. Well, except for the part where Brooke randomly decided to stop sleeping with me. But I can live with that for now. Plus, maybe it won't stick.

"We've been getting along," I tell her.

"Uh-huh..." she reaches into the fruit basket on the counter and takes out an apple, biting into it. Her dark brown eyes scan my face, probing me with an intensity it that sets off alarm bells in my head.

Oh my god. Does Vidya know?

I steel myself, feigning a neutral expression. "What?"

"Getting along, huh?" A smile plays on Vidya's full lips.

Holy shit, she does.

This is bad.

"I don't know what you're—" I stop short when something wet drips onto my hand that's holding the glass.

Vidya nods at me. "Your water, Dean."

I glance down to see my cup overflowing all over the dispenser.

"Shit. Sorry." I remove the cup and set it down on the counter, quickly grabbing a kitchen towel to wipe up the spill. I start with the counter and work my way down, drying off the cupboards.

"Don't worry about it." She waves me off, stealing a glance at the doorway. Then she steps closer, lowering her voice, and I already know what she's going to say next.

"Is something going on with you guys?"

"No," I say, a little too quickly. Good god, you'd think it was the first time I'd tried to tell a lie. It's fucking amateur hour over here.

"Are you sure? Because you two looked kinda cozy that night at Brendan's party. A little cozy on New Year's too, come to think of it." Her eyes dance with curiosity, and for a moment I almost wish I could tell her the truth.

Instead, I glance back down and wipe the rest off the water off the floor while I say a little prayer and debate how to answer. Honesty, partial honesty, or total bullshit—which I don't seem to be selling effectively tonight. None seem like great options.

"Hypothetically speaking, I guess there might some attraction between us," I say carefully. "But I'm sure it would be a bad idea to act on it."

I'm reminding myself of this, too, though it's far too late for that.

Vidya shrugs. "I don't know. I guess it would depend what you both wanted out of it. Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Right..." I nod, but I'm not clear on what she means. I'm tempted to ask her to elaborate, but I also don't want to ask her to keep secrets from Brendan.

"A hypothetical hookup is probably not a great idea." She raises her eyebrows pointedly. "But if there were hypothetical feelings involved, that might be a different story."

I think there are. Or are they one-sided? Were we just a hypothetical hookup? Shit, I mean a real hookup? Goddamnit, I don't know.

"Hypothetically, there might be some feelings involved. But maybe one person isn't sure the other person feels that way. Strictly hypothetical, of course."

And, not-so-hypothetically, I am more than a little worried about fucking up my friendship with Brendan if things with Brooke go south. We've been friends for a long time, and he's important to me.

Vidya nods thoughtfully. "Hypothetically, communication is always a good idea."

Why is that always the answer? Talk it out? Who actually does that? Plus, with the way Brooke has been lately, I'm afraid she might run for the hills if I lay it all out there and we aren't on the same page.

"Well, I'll hypothetically keep that in mind," I say, wiping off the bottom of my glass. "I should get back to the game before the blinds drain what's left of my chips. But I'm always here if you want to talk concussions. I know how that goes."

"Thanks, Dean." Vidya follows me out of the kitchen and turns, heading upstairs for their bedroom, while I head in the opposite direction for the den.

"Hope your game turns around," she adds.

I'm not sure if she's talking about poker or Brooke.

A few hands later, I've made a decent comeback, though I'm still not the chip leader, and my ego doesn't like that one bit. Poker is my superpower. I can always tune out everything else and get my head in the game. What the hell is happening?

A new hand begins and Brendan puts in his small blind. Next to him, Parker puts in his big blind, and Jason begins to deal the cards.

Brendan looks over at me. "When are you meeting Brooke tomorrow?"

"I'm picking her up at 2:30," I say, passive-aggressively hoping to drive the point home to Nolan that I'm picking her up... While simultaneously hoping Brendan doesn't think anything of it.

"Noon," Nolan says at the same time.

He's sitting right beside me, and I suddenly realize I'm not sure which one of us Brendan was talking to. But why would Nolan be meeting Brooke?

I pick up my cards to find a seven and a two, unsuited. Legitimately the worst hand in poker. Thanks for nothing, Jason.

Brendan laughs, setting his cards face down. "That's right, sorry Dean. I forgot you guys had the cake tasting tomorrow. I was asking Nolan because he agreed to help Brooke out with something for work."

"Oh," I say casually. "Is she experiencing legal troubles?" Knowing Brooke, it wouldn't entirely surprise me, though she definitely didn't mention it.

The play comes back around to me, and I toss in the minimum bet to stay in the game. It moves on to Nolan next, who does the same.

"It's a business lunch to discuss a case for one of her friends," Nolan interjects, like he thinks I asked him.

Obviously, I was talking to Brendan. Her brother. I wouldn't expect the lawyer helping her to break attorney-client privilege. That's what siblings are for.

Wait a minute. My grip on my beer tightens, mid-sip. I circle back and process what Nolan just said. He's taking Brooke for lunch? I like this even less now.

"Where are you going?" Brendan asks him. I pretend to look at my hand again while acting like I'm not paying attention, but obviously, I am. Fully.

"I was thinking The Little Table."

In other words, one of the most romantic restaurants in downtown Los Angeles? Business lunch, my ass. This is a date in business clothing.

"Nolan is considering taking the case pro bono," Brendan tells me.

Of course he is.

Nolan nods. "It's part of our firm's diversity initiative."

Even better. He's a saint. A socially-aware, conventionally attractive saint.

Jason deals the flop and it's more bad news for me. An ace of hearts, nine of spades, queen of clubs. Nothing I can work with. Across the table, Parker raises by a hefty amount. I'm pretty sure he's bluffing, but with the way my game has been going tonight, I can't say for certain.

The turn comes back around to me and I suddenly realize, I shouldn't even playing this hand. I wasn't big blind; I didn't have to put money in. Why did I go in on a 2-7 offsuit? I should have folded without making the minimum bet. Poker 101. Even Joshua would know that.

Then it hits me that I put in the money because I was distracted by Nolan's mention of Brooke.

"Fold." I slide my cards over to the dealer while Jay shoots me a questioning look.

Two more equally disastrous hands later, I'm the second one out of the game.

Because now I'm the one on tilt.

thanks for being patient waiting for an update!

PS: I'll be doing a digital meet and greet on Friday, November 5th. It's part of Writers ConnX, which is a brand new writing conference. Check my message board for details!