A hush falls over the hallway while Brendan gapes at us in disbelief. I've never seen him look so bewildered. I follow his line of sight, glancing down to see what he's staring at.

It takes a second for everything to register.

We're holding hands.

Of course. I would get busted doing one of the most innocent things, ever.

Then again, I was also in the process of leaning in to kiss her, because being around Brooke makes me stupid.

Brendan draws closer, raking his free hand through his sandy blond hair. "Would one of you please explain what's going on?" He gestures to us with the bottle of unopened wine.

Brooke gives me a pleading look that hits me square in the gut. Somehow, I feel single-handedly responsible for this clusterfuck.

"Look, Bren. We wanted to tell you—"

He cuts me off, raising his eyebrows. "There's a 'we', now?"

I have no idea how to respond to that.

"It's a funny story...?" Brooke tails off, evidently unsure how to finish. She twirls a strand of hair around her finger with her free hand, scrunching up her mouth.

Brendan's expression softens, and his entire demeanor does a 180. He touches her shoulder, ducking to catch her eye. "Do you mind if I talk to Dean alone for a minute?"

Good chance this is code for, 'kick my ass', which isn't totally unwarranted.

"But—" she frowns. "This involves me, too."

"Just let me have a word with him, okay?"

Brooke looks up at me, clearly torn about whether to argue with him. I squeeze her hand and give her a small nod. It's better if she doesn't hear Brendan chew me out, especially if he starts throwing things I've done in the past back in my face as reasons why I shouldn't be with her. There are some fairly valid arguments to be made in that respect. As in, everything I did from age twenty-one until I hooked up with her.

"I'm not upset with you," he adds. "I promise."

Reluctantly, she tugs her hand away from mine and heads back into the living area, leaving the two of us alone. Once she's out of earshot, Brendan sets the bottle of wine on the wooden hall table with a menacing clunk.

"Explain," he says, voice flat.

This feels a little bit like an interrogation where we've been separated to see if our stories line up. While I'm usually adept at negotiating difficult situations, I'm not so sure that will be the case right now. I've sat at poker tables where six figures were on the line, and none of them were as tense as this.

"Can we go somewhere more private first?" I scan the hallway, trying to determine whether anyone else is within earshot. Obviously, I just learned the hard way that this hallway doesn't offer much in the way of discretion.

Brendan's lips press into a thin line. "I'm about two seconds away from punching you in the throat, so it's probably better we don't."

While I expected him to be upset, it's still hard to hear from one of the most important people in my life. The look on his face is nothing less than utter disappointment. A hurricane of emotions swirls within me. Feelings I can't even identify, feelings I've never experienced before. It's like walking on eggshells, barefoot.

I want to de-escalate the situation, but for once in my life, I have no idea how.

"Saturday morning?" He prompts, voice low and knife-edge sharp. I'm not dealing with my best friend right now; I'm being cross-examined by Brendan Maccabe, attorney-at-law.

"Tell me you didn't jump into bed with my sister like she's just another one of your meaningless one-night stands. Because she's been in a vulnerable place lately, and I know my best friend would never do something that shitty."

It does sound pretty incriminating when he puts it that way. And while I wish this was one of those, 'the truth shall set you free' situations, the truth is not much better. In fact, my motivations were shitty. I slept with Brooke on New Years' with the purely selfish intention of getting her out of my system.

It just so happens that I fell for her instead.

Regardless of the feelings I've developed now, I'm not sure whether the end would justify the means from Brendan's perspective. In this case, I probably deserve everything I'm getting, imminent throat punch included.

"I can see why you might think that, but that's not what's going on."

At least, not anymore. Maybe I can gloss over the part where it was.

"Then what is?"

"Remember our bet?" I ask.

Brendan waves me on, growing impatient. "What about it?"

He probably thinks I'm trying to be evasive, but this is the most succinct way I can think of to explain how I feel. It's a hell of a lot easier than trying to verbalize everything, which is still pretty tangled inside my own head.

"I have completely lost the bet, Bren. Smacked upside the head and all."

Recognition dawns across his face, followed by surprise. Before he can say anything further, Vidya pokes her head into the hall.

"Brendan? Where's the wine?" Her eyes widen when she sees us standing together. "Is everything..."

"It's fine. Dean and I are just discussing something." He snatches the bottle of wine off the table and stalks down to the end of the hall, handing it to her. Vidya takes it from his hands, shooting me a sympathetic look before turning away.

When he returns, he nods for me to follow him. We head down the other end of the hall and into the laundry room off the garage, where I'd just been speaking to Josh. I shut the door behind me, enclosing us in the pale blue room alone. The faint, clean scent of laundry detergent lingers, but the tension in the air is a thousand times stronger.

Brendan leans against the quartz countertop and folds his arms. "What's going on with Holly, then?"

I knew that was going to come back to haunt me.

"There's nothing going on with Holly. I said that because I was at Brooke's place the night of your party, and then you noticed the missing button on my shirt in the diner. I didn't want to drop a bomb on you like that right after the car accident."

Plus, at that point, I wasn't sure whether it was anything more than strings-free sex.

"You've had time since."

"Point taken." The only possible defense I have is pointing out that it was a two-person decision. But that would cast blame onto Brooke, so I don't. "It just didn't seem like the right time."

Brendan frowns like he's had a sudden, disturbing realization. "And that photo earlier today?"

My entire body tenses like a steel trap. This just got even more awkward. If that's even possible.

"That wasn't from Holly." In other words: no, I wasn't cheating on Brooke, and yes, your little sister was sending me risque pictures.

"You can ask Brooke if don't believe me," I add. "Though that might be uncomfortable for everyone involved."

It would probably be the end of me receiving any more photos, too. While that shouldn't be one of my priorities right now, I'd strongly prefer that didn't happen. Brooke takes the hottest selfies I've ever seen.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm glad you weren't creeping around on her, but now I really wish I hadn't seen that photo."

That was one of the least explicit ones, but I don't think offering up that information will help either one of us right now.

His hand falls to his side and his eyes reopen, widening. He inclines his head, giving me an 'oh-no-you-didn't' look. Dread creeps into the pit of my stomach, beacuse I already know what just clicked.

"This all started on New Years, didn't it? Did you have sex in my bathroom? With my sister?" Brendan groans and throws his head back, looking up at the ceiling. His gaze snaps back to me, reproachful. "Dean. Come on, man. Seriously?"

"We didn't have sex," I tell him. Then I realize that's a massive lie, because I fucked her brains out when we got back to my place. "I mean, not in your bathroom. Or anywhere else in your house."

Brendan huffs a dry laugh. "Well, that's a relief."

He stares down at the floor, shaking his head. In the silence, a load of laundry sloshes around in the white front-loader, another one humming away in the dryer. I study his body language closely, trying to gauge where we're at. He's not as angry as he was, but it's clear he's still not happy. It's progress, at least.

"If you're going to kick my ass, can you wait until after the bachelor party? Vidya probably won't appreciate it if I'm all bruised and beat up in the photos."

He gives me a wry smile. "I'll enter that into my calendar for next Saturday. 'Beat up Hollis.' How's 2 PM work? Hangovers should be starting to improve by then. Should heal up nicely before the wedding, too."

"Done. Send me a meeting invite and I'll set a reminder."

Brendan laughs again, a little easier this time. "Now that we've established you're not using her," he begins, "I'm more confused than anything. I thought you were both acting a little off, but I never really believed... I mean, you used to hate each other."

"I never hated her." Life would have been so much easier if I had. "I know this is weird. Probably will be weird for awhile. I fully understand if you're pissed at me, but I care about her."

"You'd better." It's a half-serious warning.

"How many times have you heard me say that?"

"Never," he admits. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt on this one because I love you like a brother. I want Brooke to be happy, and that's all that ultimately matters."

Tipping back the glass, I down the rest of my wine in one gulp. As it stands, I'm either spending the night here at my parents' or going home with Dean, because I definitely won't be driving anywhere until tomorrow.

Fortunately, my parents have disappeared to finish making dinner, granting me the privacy to freak out to Vidya in the living room alone.

"You and Dean, huh?" she grins, crossing her legs. "You make a cute couple."

"I don't even know if we are a couple. It's still new; that's why we hadn't told anyone yet. He already told me you busted him the other day, though."

Vidya looks at me over the rim of her glass. "It was hard not to. The guy is a mess over you."

Warmth spreads through my body, and I'm not sure whether it's from the wine or her words.

"Do you think they're arguing?" I ask, craning my neck and trying to peer down the hallway.

"It looked a little tense," she says carefully. "But I think they'll be okay. They've been friends for a long time."

I know they have; that's the whole problem. It's possible I just torpedoed their friendship.

The thought spurs me into action and I push to stand, setting down the empty glass. "I'm going to go check on them. Be right back. I hope."

When I walk down the hall, it's empty, but low voices are carrying from inside the laundry room. I draw in a breath and knock on the closed door before pushing it open, peeking inside.

They both glance over at me. Dean gives me a half-smile that makes my stomach flutter, and Brendan waves for me to come in.

I walk over to join them, sliding under Dean's arm. He glances down at me in surprise and then wraps his hand around my shoulder, enveloping me in the warmth of his body.

"Don't be upset with Dean. This is just as much on me as it is him. Maybe more."

After all, I'm the one who threw myself at him on New Year's Eve. I basically served myself up on a silver platter.

"I was mostly upset because I didn't know if he was being fair to you. Now that I know he is"—Brendan shoots a meaningful look at Dean—"I just wish you guys had told me."

"He wanted to tell you," I say. "That's what I was trying to tell you before. I'm the one who told him we should wait."

Outside of a workplace setting, where he holds one hell of a grudge against certain lawyers, Brendan can't stay mad worth a damn—especially not at me. In this case, that benefits me and Dean greatly.

"Why?" Brendan's forehead creases.

"You have so much going on as it is, I didn't want to be the cause of more stress for you. Plus, I didn't know what we were."

Heck, I'm still not completely positive.

To my surprise, Brendan smirks. "Sounds like Dean knows what it is." He nods at us, turning to leave. "I'll leave you two alone, since I obviously interrupted something earlier."

Brendan pulls open the laundry room door and then he pauses in the doorway, pivoting back to face us. "Dean?"

Pressed next to me, Dean tenses slightly. "Yeah?"

"You owe me a hundred bucks."

Brendan shuts the door behind him with a quiet click, and we both heave a sigh of relief. Dean turns me to look at him, wrapping his arms around my waist, but his expression is difficult to interpret.

"Is everything okay?" I reach up, running my fingers along his jaw, and he blinks slowly, leaning into my touch. Everything about being with him feels so familiar, so easy, that it's scary. I feel like we've skipped ten steps along the way. Maybe it's because I've known him for so long, but I don't think that's the only reason.

"It will be. He just needs some time." His hand slips underneath my tank top and his fingers caress the small of my back. A thrill runs down my spine at the sensation, goosebumps popping up along my skin.

"I hate that I caused issues with you two."

Dean shrugs. "He's not wrong to be a little pissed at me."

"It's not like I'm some innocent, here."

"No." He peers down at me, lips tugging. "You are definitely not innocent."

His other hand slides up to cup my face and his gaze darkens, turning smouldering. My breath grows shallow, heart careening in my chest. I don't know how he can still have this effect on me, so many kisses later.

"But the good news is," he murmurs, brushing his lips against mine, "now we don't have to hide anything."

I have saved this song for AGES waiting for this chapter. (Song is Love Made Me Do It by Ellise, in case the video doesn't show up).

Brendan will get over it eventually, right? I mean, now they can double-date.