What the fuck am I looking at right now?

First, they exchange some tense words. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him get so pissed off at anyone before. And this isn’t just casual anger on my behalf. He isn’t just telling her off because he’s mad about what she’s done to me - to us - this week.

This is the kind of anger you show toward someone you know.

I watch as he tries to walk away, and I swallow hard to try to get the lump in my throat to go down.

But she won’t let him walk away.

She is all over him. I feel my throat tighten up as I watch them. Her lips come up to his cheek. He hesitates for a second, and more words are said.

It all happens so damn fast. I think he pushed her away because he didn’t want her on him. But I just don’t know what the hell that was.

He begins to stride away from her, his fists balled up, hanging tensely at his sides.

Jason is looking down at the ground, and I feel like he’s walking toward me in slow motion.

And then he looks up, finds my eyes, and freezes.

“Cassie, I’m sorry you saw that,” he says, coming up to me, getting so close. He smells like whiskey and her perfume, and I feel the smell hit my brain, making me feel dizzy.

He tries to hug me, but I can’t let him. He tries to wrap his big arms around my waist, but my body takes over and I push him away.

“What the hell was that?” I say, wiping the corners of my eyes with my fingertips. These tears cannot be happening right now.

If anyone saw…

“Cassie, it’s not what you think,” he says confidently, trying to get close to me.

But there is fear in his eyes, too. There is something telling me that something very fucked up is going on.

And Cynthia saunters up behind him, walks past us like nothing happened, and shoots him a little smirk.

“See you on the road, baby,” she says. She ignores me. It’s like I’m less than invisible.

“Wait,” I sputter, “the road? You know her?”

Jason shakes his head and takes another small step toward me.

“I didn’t remember her,” he says, “until just now. She used a different name back then.”

I feel like a ton of bricks has been dumped on top of me. I feel utterly defeated. I don’t believe his bullshit for a second, and even if he really didn’t remember her, here he was, allowing her to get close to him. Allowing her to jump all over him.

And I am now realizing that he pushed her away because I was here. Because he saw me.

Yeah, of course he didn’t want me to see.

Of course he didn’t want me to see.

“How could you forget someone like her?” I whisper, my voice coming out hoarse and ragged. “That’s the kind of person you remember. The kind of person who sticks in your brain.”

“I don’t know…” he trails off, his eyes pained.

“How many more secrets are you keeping from me?” I ask, desperate for answers. I search his face. I do more than search. I beg him silently with my eyes, and I feel the tears spilling out. I am unable to stop them.

“Cassie, please,” he says, coming toward me again. I feel weak. I am weak not only in his presence, but I’m weak thinking about what the hell I’m going to do.

“After that big speech you gave me a few minutes ago?” I cry. “After you tell me you fucked up royally five years ago, you just come back? You show up out of the fucking blue and tell me that you made a mistake?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing my arms gently, “that’s right. I did fuck up. And I’m done with regretting it. I’m done with thinking you’re too fucking good for me. I’m done thinking I’m some piece of shit fuckup without a future. I’m done thinking you’re this perfect girl who’s too good for me. Because you know what, Cassie? I’m not going anywhere this time.”

“You can’t just come back into my life like this and expect me to sweep everything under the rug,” I whimper.

His hands feel so strange on me now. He takes my face in his hands, but he doesn’t kiss me. I won’t let him. Instead, I push him away.

I feel like all the color has been sucked out of the world. There’s already a crowd assembling around us, the other girls and some of the other guests of the contest, and the looks on the girls’ faces are something between pity and amusement.

I want to tell them to get a really good look at the girl having her heart broken.

Because as much as I want to believe Jason, how can I? How can I trust him, now that I’ve witnessed whatever the hell that was between him and Cynthia?

The truth is that my heart broke five years ago, and I only learned about it tonight.

The truth is that he lied to me. About five years ago, about Cynthia.

“I know I can’t,” he says. “I came here to win you over, Cassie. And I haven’t stopped trying yet.”

I swallow the thick lump in my throat and turn around, watching him disappear from my view in slow motion.

“Don’t do this, Cass,” I hear him say. But I don’t turn back around. I’ve spilled too many tears over him. It’s enough.

I squeeze through pairs of girls talking and whispering as I move quickly through the bar, and when I finally reach the ballroom, you could hear a pin drop. Flashes of cameras go off, making me see stars as I make my way through the hotel lobby. I feel like I am walking on lava; the ground beneath me is hot and bubbling and uneasy and if I’m not careful I could fall down and be burned to ashes.

But at the same time, inside, I feel nothing.

“Cassie, stop. I really need to talk to you. It’s about Cynthia,” I hear Jason say faintly behind me. He’s speaking in a whisper, as if he doesn’t want the reporters I know are following us to hear.

Of course it’s about Cynthia. Of course there’s more he isn’t telling me.

“It’s enough,” I cry, turning around. Behind him, at the entrance to the hotel, hung high on the wall, is that stupid banner with my freaking face on it. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

I can’t believe I ever thought this whole thing was a good idea.

Jason is a womanizer. Jason is no good. Jason will only break your heart.

I step into the elevator as it arrives quickly and watch as the doors close between me and Jason, replacing his face with the mirrored wall of the elevator, allowing me to finally see the mascara and eyeliner streaming down my tear-soaked face.

And I take a good look.

This is what perfect looks like.