The Night My Confession Party Became His Proposal

PROLOGUE

The man I had secretly loved for six years was kissing his one that got away at the very party I had meticulously planned for my own confession.

He thanked me for arranging it all, severing my six years of devotion with a single sentence.

And she, the recipient of that kiss, was the only person who knew my secret.

I was done playing the supporting role.

01

Just moments ago, at the confession I had designed down to the last detail, Jonas Crawford, the man I had loved for six years, kissed someone else.

Watching the picture-perfect couple, I clapped, my movements stiff and robotic.

A storm of emotions churned inside me.

The kiss ended. Jonas led Simone Duval over to me, his voice a low, deep rumble. "Josie, thanks for putting all this together."

It was a different tone from the one he used with Simone.

This one was serious, almost forceful, leaving no room for me to deny it.

He made it sound so convincing that even I almost believed it that all of this was my grand gesture as a loyal friend, a final push for his epic romance.

One sentence.

That s all it took to erase me from the narrative.

One sentence, and all my heart, my effort, my courage, became his.

A horrifying realization washed over me.

He knew. Jonas knew I was going to confess to him tonight.

To have my deepest feelings used, manipulated like this... I felt a sudden, plunging cold, as if I'd been thrown into an icy abyss.

My gaze shifted to Simone.

She was the only one I had ever told.

A pristine, innocent smile graced her exquisitely made-up face. "I have to thank you, too," she said, her voice dripping with sincerity. "You made me realize what a great guy Jonas is. I shouldn't have let him go."

Great. Just great. The campus god was finally with his long-lost love.

In the shadows where they couldn't see, my hands slowly clenched into fists.

The sharp sting of my nails digging into my palms was a distant pain, nothing compared to the suffocating pressure in my chest.

And in that moment, I finally understood my role in this perfect love story.

I was the plot device.

I blinked, fighting back the acidic burn in my eyes, and stumbled away from the scene.

One foot in front of the other.

A desperate, clumsy escape.

02

Back in my small off-campus apartment, I locked myself on the balcony.

I sat there all night.

My mind was a dull, heavy fog.

I wanted so badly to just fall asleep, to wake up and find this was all a nightmare.

But the persistent, throbbing pain in my palms was a constant reminder.

This was real.

It started in high school. Simone was about to leave for a study abroad program, a golden future laid out before her. She had gently turned Jonas down.

I thought, maybe a broken-hearted god is easier to approach?

So I asked him out for a drink.

Jonas got drunk.

He told me, his words slurring slightly, that the only reason he d even become my friend was because I was Simone's friend.

That one sentence shattered every last bit of hope I had.

I retreated, locking myself firmly in the friend zone.

And I waited.

For six years.

By the time we were about to graduate from the University of Oregon, Jonas was still single.

And I was the only girl who was consistently by his side.

After years of quiet companionship, a fragile, dangerous thought began to sprout in my heart.

Maybe& maybe now I had a chance?

That tiny possibility was enough to fuel an inferno of courage.

I confirmed he wasn't seeing anyone.

Only then did I start planning tonight's confession.

And then, Simone flew back from halfway across the world.

Jonas had sensed my intentions all along.

He saw his chance and took it, using my confession as the stage to eliminate my hopes once and for all, right in front of her.

A story for three people.

A happy ending for two.

And a hollow, crushing emptiness for one.

Maybe this was the universe's cruel joke on my obsession.

Some feelings are meant to rot in the dark. They wither in the light.

A sharp ringtone sliced through the pre-dawn quiet. Simone.

Her voice on the other end was bright and cheerful. "Jo, Jonas convinced me. I've decided to stay in the States and look for a job here!"

I watched the morning mist roll across the sky, swallowing the horizon, surrounding me in its cold, gray embrace.

"Congratulations to you both," I whispered.

I don't remember what she said after that.

When I hung up the phone, all I could feel was a profound, bone-deep chill.

03

The University of Oregon had a long-standing tradition of a senior graduation trip.

The moment I arrived at the meeting point, I saw them.

Jonas and Simone, standing so close they seemed to melt into one another.

I d never seen Jonas so comfortable, so openly affectionate with a girl.

I remembered all the times I d accidentally brushed against him, and how he would instinctively pull away.

He called it being a little mysophobic, said he didn't like being crowded.

Or maybe he just didn't like being crowded by me.

Simone spotted me, her eyes curving into a smile. "We're coming with you guys, Jo."

I looked at Jonas.

His expression, so warm when he looked at Simone, turned distant the moment it landed on me. "It was my idea," he said. "It's a good chance to introduce Simone to everyone."

Of course.

He should introduce his girlfriend to everyone.

I dropped my gaze to the ground. "I just remembered I have something to do. I don't think I can make it."

Jonas s brow furrowed slightly. "Josie, you have to go."

My head snapped up, my heart giving a stupid, traitorous leap.

Then he delivered the killing blow. "I'm worried Simone won't know anyone and might feel awkward."

I froze.

Jonas could be so thoughtful&

A bitter wave of acidity rose in my throat.

But that thoughtfulness wasn't for me.

If he knew I liked him, didn't he think that watching them together would make *me* feel awkward?

The answer hit me instantly.

It wasn't that he didn't know.

He just didn't care.

Jonas was doing this on purpose.

To give Simone a sense of security, he had to sacrifice me.

I took a step back, shaking my head slowly.

I could feel a hole being carved out in my chest, a cold wind howling through it.

I was wrong.

I thought this was a slow, painful execution by a thousand cuts.

I didn't realize it was a public flogging of a corpse.

Tilting my head up, I forced a smile at the perfect couple.

"Alright," I said, the word tasting like ash. "I'll go."

04

Smith Rock State Park was breathtaking in the summer, and it was packed with groups of students on their own senior trips.

Jonas's roommates were decent guys.

Ever since they found out about him and Simone, they d stopped teasing me and Jonas.

But now, their glances in my direction were tinged with a sympathy I didn't want.

Yeah, I was a campus clich?.

Everyone knew I d been chasing Jonas Crawford for years.

My six-year campaign ended before I even had the chance to declare war.

Dead on arrival.

I watched the impossibly perfect couple, my thoughts drifting.

A burst of laughter and shouting pulled me back.

It was a group of students from Willamette University, the nearby private college.

A few of the guys were fooling around, one of them swinging a fishing rod. I watched as a handsome guy with an easy smile raised his arm, preparing to cast.

The next second, a silver glint flashed through the air.

I felt a sharp tug on the back of my dress.

*Rrrrrip.*

The sound of tearing fabric was loud in the sudden silence.

My expression tore right along with it.

A tall, handsome guy dropped the rod and rushed over, frantically unbuttoning his own shirt as he ran.

Laughter erupted from the surrounding crowd as he quickly draped his shirt over my shoulders.

"I am so sorry," he said, his voice warm but laced with genuine panic. "We were just messing around. Are you hurt?"

The voice was so earnest, so flustered.

I glanced over and saw a guy standing there in just a tank top, the tips of his ears bright red.

Dean Chapman? The Dean Chapman from Willamette?

This flustered, red-eared version didn't quite match the legendary campus heartthrob rumors.

For some reason, I suddenly wanted to laugh.

"Let me see if you're hurt& "

He started to gently turn me around to check my back, a hint of command in his touch that I found myself instinctively obeying.

But a hand landed firmly on my shoulder, stopping me.

I looked up in surprise.

It was Jonas.

His brow was knitted into a deep frown, his eyes dark and unreadable in the glare of the sun.

"Don't you think that's a little inappropriate?" he asked, his voice tight.

Don't you think that's a little inappropriate?

I went still.

The phrase was painfully familiar. I'd heard it before.

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