I think when they were organizing the senior prom, this is something like what they had in mind.

Big orchid arrangements dot the center of each table inside the banquet room, and the lighting is perfect for the occasion; it’s not too dim to where you can’t see your menu and discern whether the salmon comes with mashed or roasted potatoes, but it’s dark enough to lend a romantic, fun mood.

We were informed of what table we were to sit at ahead of time, and we find our seats quickly. There’s no need for us to really search a lot, because we’re at Table 1, which is traditionally right up by the stage. I guess this means I’ve really made it, or something.

I inhale deeply, trying to steady my nerves as Jason pulls my chair out for me to sit down - and it’s not easy in this dress. But I’m able to bend at the waist, thank goodness, and exhale as I sit.

Jason reaches for the bread basket in the middle of the table and grabs a roll, tearing a piece off and popping it into his mouth before putting the rest of the roll down on the little plate in front of him. I smile at his slight lack of refinement; it’s not like anyone ever got arrested and thrown into jail for eating a piece of bread before the salad is served, but it’s also not the right way to do things.

But I can’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Jason isn’t the picture-perfect fiancé for this situation, but he’s damn good at it.

And for the real me, the one hidden inside the beauty queen and who will eat all the rolls before anyone else even sits down, he is perfect.

I look up to my left at the stage where Ms. Garnelle is stepping across to the center, in an epic black gown with a foot-long tail.

The lights go down in the room and she confidently smiles as a soft, diffused spotlight finds her on the stage.

That’s it, shoulders back, chin up, chest out but not too far out.

“Welcome,” she says in a tone that’s halfway between booming and sugary-sweet, “to the Miss Northeast pageant. It is my pleasure and my honor to welcome all of you this evening. This dinner is to bring all of us together so we can share a breath before the commencement of the pageant tomorrow.”

I glance over at Jason and he winks, leaning back in his chair with his hands on his lap.

Damn. He looks so good in that suit. If I knew back when I was 18 what I know now, I’d have considered asking him to go to prom with me.

“Now,” the Ms. Garnelle says as the lights come back up in the dining room, “please have a wonderful evening.

The music in the room swells against the walls, filling up the space with that same slow, smooth jazz music. I realize that it’s actually coming from a live piano tucked into the corner of the stage.

Next to me, Jason rises from his seat and puts his hand out in front of me.

I gaze up at him, watching his eyes as he looks around the room and then back down at me. He gives me an impatient, waiting look, and I finally slip my hand into his.

“Will you dance with me?” he says as I rise from my seat gracefully, “the way you should have five years ago?”

I feel my eyes light up and giddiness roll through my belly.

“There’s no one else dancing,” I say, but he doesn’t listen. He’s already whisking me out into the center of the dance floor, all of the banquet tables surrounding us, where everyone in attendance is still sitting. I watch as a few other girls rise from their seats and make their way out onto the floor. I wonder if they’re doing it so Jason and I won’t be the only people dancing, or if they wanted to dance all along and were just waiting for someone else to make the first move.

“There,” he says, looking around, slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me in close to him, slowly taking my hand in his as he watches my body move against him. “Now there are other people dancing.”

We rock slowly to the beat of the music, but I’m not even listening to it. I’m only feeling the steady movement of my body against Jason’s, and the electricity on my skin as his fingers lace through mine.

“Cassie, I want to tell you something,” Jason says cautiously, his eyes narrowing as they scan along my shoulders. “I wanted to talk to you about the night of your prom. And the night after, too.”

“I know,” I sigh, putting my head against his chest, “I was just thinking that I should have never gone with that loser Shane.”

“You didn’t know it was the wrong choice at the time,” Jason replies, “but he’s what I want to talk about.”

I feel my insides freeze up as Jason says he wants to talk about Shane.

I only attended prom with him because it was tradition for the likely prom king and queen to go together. It was silly, but it was what it was.

Shane and I did not have a good time together.

Nothing really happened. I made sure of it. But there was a party after prom, and I was drinking. He’d brought me to a bedroom and I just went along with it because I thought it was the mature, adult thing to do. We started kissing and then I told him to stop, and he got a little bit handsy before he actually stopped like I’d asked him to, but only after I pushed him away and he finally understood that I wasn’t playing around.

Worse things have happened - not to me, but to girls I know. This wasn’t the end of the world. I didn’t feel angry toward him, because he did stop when I pushed him away, and I think he was so stunned by the blow to his pride and his ego that he let me leave the room without anything else happening. I pretty quickly chalked the experience up to just a bad few minutes, and I moved on with my life.

“What is it?” I breathe, searching his eyes as a cloud of concern washes over his face.

“I was planning to invite you to that party the night after your prom, Cassie,” he says, lacing his fingers through mine, “but I knew Shane was going to be there, and I knew you didn’t like him. I just had this bad feeling about the guy. You hadn’t said anything that bad to me about him, but I just had this bad feeling. At the party, I confronted him.”

Jason’s jaw steels up and he closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“I was so fucking stupid, Cassie,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, the feeling of my heart thrumming inside my ears.

“I spoke to the guy, Cass, and he said something happened between you two. I didn’t like the language he used. And the way you were acting...from the way he was talking it sounded like he crossed a line with you.”

I swallow thickly and feel the whole world between me and Jason grow smaller. I should have done an updo tonight, because right now, my hair is sticking to the back of my neck.

“So why are you telling me this now?” I ask, “what does this have to do with us now?”

“I’m not proud of it, but I roughed that fucking guy up a little. I didn’t hit him. But I warned him to stay the hell away from you. And your brother overheard, and he was pissed that I’d reacted that way. I just...I just felt this need to protect you. To defend you. I don’t know. It was stupid.”

“No...no, Jason,” I say, putting my fingers to my temple, “it’s not stupid. You thought something happened, and you reacted.”

“That’s what I tried to tell your brother, but instead of understanding, he accused me of sleeping with you.” The bittersweetness of his laugh coats my belly. “He thought I was pissed at Shane because I thought I had some kind of claim over you.”

I laugh too. I know it’s not appropriate. Hell, this isn’t even particularly funny.

“Jason, I don’t know what’s crazier. The fact that Mark thought we had slept together or the fact that I’m only learning about all this now.”

“I know,” he says, “but I had to tell you. I had to explain why I just disappeared the way I did. I hadn’t been planning on going away. But then that night there was this rift between your brother and me, and I felt like my chance was blown. Because believe me, as much as I disagreed with your brother that night for telling me to stay the hell away from you, I respected him. I respected his position. Because all he cares about is you not getting hurt. All he cares about is your happiness.”

He stops speaking, and I watch as his eyes drift away from mine, somewhere behind us. He looks pained, but hopeful. He looks like he wants to say something else too, and my heart aches when I press on to find out what it is.

“Wait,” I ask, “your chance?” as my eyes grow wide.

“My chance with you, Cassie. My chance with you.”

His eyes find mine again and he takes my face in his hands.

“I won’t kiss you right now,” he whispers, “because there are too many people around. But I will later. I can’t wait to.”

I feel giddy and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut all at the same time. I thought it was just life that had kept us apart. And it was. But we didn’t simply grow apart.

He didn’t leave because he didn’t want me. He left because he did want me.

Jason slips his fingers onto the back of my neck. I feel goosebumps spring up where he touches me, and I watch those devilish, sexy eyes as he smiles at me.

“We could have all just sat down and talked about it,” I say, the bittersweetness flowing through me like adrenaline.

“Yeah,” he quips, “but then you might have never become a beauty queen. And then I never would have come to work this pageant. And we would never have attended this gala together, and I would have never had this chance to dance with you. Plus, I was young and fucking stupid.”

“Jason,” I cry, throwing my arms around his neck, “that was fucking stupid of you. Don’t you ever do that to me again!”

“I won’t,” he says, “I won’t.”

As I feel his arms around me, a spark of calmness ignites deep inside me. He senses it, too. He always knew what I was thinking before I said it. He always knew how I felt before I showed it.

“Cassie,” he says softly, “I missed you. I missed you before I had you”

I sigh, letting my breath come out shakily. My eyes are burning deep inside, and I know that if I blink, big, hot tears will come out.

But I can’t allow that to happen. I can’t cry. There’s no crying in beauty pageants.

Unless you win, and then there are tears of joy.

“You good?” he asks, his strong hands roaming down my shoulders, past my arms. He takes my hands in his and looks into my eyes with that signature gaze that’s always driven me crazy.

“Yeah,” I say, “more than good.”

Jason smiles at me and squeezes my hands.

“Let me grab a drink for you. And we’ll keep talking. We’ll talk all night.”

I walk back over to our table and he walks away from me, heading toward the bar. I turn back to look at him and he flashes me a smile as a wave of giddiness rolls through me.

This really is our second chance. And there isn’t a damn thing fake about it.