Idiot. That's what I am.

An idiot for getting involved with someone like Jason Neilling in the first place. An even bigger idiot for falling in love with him.

God, I'm such a cliché—the quiet, good girl who falls for the toxic, complicated bad boy.

But that's exactly what we were.

And at first, things were good. More than good, actually. Easy. Comfortable. The kind of comfortable that tricks you into believing you're building something real.

Okay, we were never official. There were no labels, no conversations about exclusivity. But when you see someone almost every day, when they stay over, cook dinner with you, fall asleep beside you, and make room for you in their life, you start to think it's leading somewhere.

You start to think you matter.

Apparently, I was wrong.

When I arrived at the party—the one he'd invited me to—I couldn't find him anywhere. I called him twice. Then three times. No answer.

The house was packed, music shaking the walls, people spilling into every room. I pushed through the crowd, searching for the familiar dark hair and crooked smile that had somehow become my favorite sight.

Then I found him.

Sitting on the couch.

Surrounded by his friends.

With a girl on his lap.

Not just any girl.

His ex.

Jennifer fucking Carter.

The cheerleader.

The girl he'd sworn was ancient history.

For a second, everything around me seemed to blur. The music became distant. The laughter faded into static. All I could focus on was her hand resting casually against his chest and the way he didn't seem remotely bothered by it.

So what are you supposed to do in a situation like that?

Cause a scene?

Cry?

Scream at him in front of everyone?

I don't know.

What I do know is that I turned around and walked away.

Calmly.

Quietly.

I crossed the crowded house, stepped out into the cool night air, and headed straight for my car.

Only when I was alone did the humiliation finally hit me.

Because really, how could I have been so stupid?

How could I have mistaken convenience for commitment?

How could I have convinced myself that I was different?

The answer was simple.

I wasn't.

And Jason Neilling had just made sure I would never forget it.