How could she have been so stupid?
The realization burned through her like acid. She never even considered asking if Jasmine liked women. It had never occurred to her, not once, not in all the time she had spent drowning in obsession and carving out a place for Jasmine in the center of her universe. Every woman she had ever wanted had wanted her back, or at least entertained the possibility. But Jasmine— Jasmine was different. Jasmine had never belonged to the same world, never once gave any indication that she could. Cameron had built something out of nothing. She had spent years grasping at a mirage.
Excusing herself was the only option before the cracks in her mask became too obvious. She barely muttered something about needing the bathroom before turning on her heel, her vision blurring at the edges as she walked away too quickly, too stiffly. The moment she locked the door behind her, she collapsed against the sink, gripping the cold porcelain as though it could anchor her. The lock on the door made a click that echoed louder than expected. The noise snapped something loose inside her, and for a moment she just stood there, staring at the tile floor like it might offer instructions.
She exhaled slowly. Tried again.
Inhale. One. Two. Three. Four.
Exhale. One. Two. Three—
Her breath caught. Her chest tightened.
She gripped the edge of the sink.
Her reflection stared back at her, perfect and false. Hair still styled, makeup still intact, lips still painted with the same careful ease she'd practiced in the mirror hours before. But her eyes looked wrong. Too wide. Too bright. Like something inside her had slipped and cracked open.
You did this to yourself.
That thought came quiet, but it was sharp. It landed like a scalpel under her ribs.
She hadn't prepared for this because a part of her—God, she hated it—a part of her had still hoped.
Not believed. Not exactly.
But hoped.
Just enough to make this feel like a betrayal.
She reached for her purse and fumbled for the pill case tucked in the side pocket. Her fingers were clumsy, useless, but she managed to pop it open and dry-swallow a Xanax. It scraped her throat on the way down.
Too late for it to kick in now. The shaking had already started.
She should have left as soon as Jasmine said "boyfriend." She should've said something casual, waved it off, made an excuse. But she hadn't. She'd stood there and smiled and nodded and kept it together—because she always kept it together.
Until now.
A noise broke from her throat, quiet but raw, and she sank to sit on the closed toilet lid, elbows on her knees, forehead in her hands.
What had she expected?
That Jasmine would see her again and suddenly feel something? That she'd remember the way Cameron looked at her and realize it meant something? That two years later, the universe would give her a second chance she never had the guts to ask for in the first place?
It was a delusion.
She had built an entire shrine on top of a smile and a few shared cigarettes.
She had mapped a future onto someone who had only ever existed in passing.
A mirage. That was all Jasmine had ever been.
The worst part wasn't that Jasmine had a boyfriend.
The worst part was that it hurt like she had lost something.
But she hadn't. She never had it to begin with.
You were just the background character in her life. The nice girl who trained her. The one who probably disappeared from her memory the second she settled into the job.
Another wave of nausea rolled through her.
She stood, rinsed her face with cold water, then stared at herself in the mirror again.
Still put together.
Still wearing the armor.
That had to be enough.
She practiced her exit line under her breath. "Thanks for the invite, it was great seeing everyone." Short. Clean. Easy.
She opened the bathroom door and stepped out.
And immediately almost collided with Jasmine.
"Oh—sorry!" Jasmine laughed, her eyes widening slightly. "Didn't mean to ambush you."
Cameron forced a small smile. "No ambush. Just... got a little crowded in there."
Jasmine looked concerned. "Are you okay? You kind of disappeared for a bit."
Cameron nodded, the practiced lie already forming. "Yeah. Just needed a breather. Too many people."
Jasmine tilted her head, studying her. "Still not a fan of parties, huh?"
The familiarity in her voice stung.
Cameron shrugged. "Guess that hasn't changed."
Jasmine smiled again—easy, kind, like none of this hurt. Like the air between them wasn't thick with unspoken weight.
Cameron hated how her chest still fluttered when Jasmine looked at her like that.
"I was actually hoping we could talk more before you left," Jasmine said. "I didn't realize how much I missed our conversations until I saw you again."
That sentence. That sentence could've killed her.
Cameron laughed, a soft, nervous thing that didn't belong to her. "We didn't talk that much."
Jasmine frowned slightly. "Sure we did. You just don't remember. You were always kind of... distracted."
Because I was in love with you. The sentence hovered on the tip of her tongue like a dare. But she swallowed it.
Instead, she said, "Yeah. Guess I was."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Jasmine brightened again, as if reclaiming the moment. "Anyway, I don't want this to be the last time we talk. Let's exchange numbers, yeah?"
Cameron blinked.
"What?"
Jasmine pulled out her phone. "I mean, I feel dumb we didn't do this years ago. Let's fix that."
Cameron hesitated.
This was cruel. Not intentionally. But it was. Jasmine was offering friendship—kindness. A thread of connection. Nothing more. And Cameron knew it. She knew it.
But still, she typed in her number and handed the phone back.
She couldn't stop herself.
As Jasmine saved it, she smiled again. "I'll text you soon. We should grab lunch or something."
Cameron nodded. "Sure."
But her voice sounded far away.
Jasmine stepped back into the crowd, waving at someone across the room, already lost in the party again.
Cameron stood still, phone vibrating faintly in her hand—Jasmine's name flashing across the screen as a confirmation text arrived.
Then she locked her phone and slipped it into her bag.
The exit line came out exactly as she'd rehearsed.
"Thanks for the invite," she told Cheyenne, who hugged her too tightly and said she'd better keep in touch.
She left without another word, stepping out into the cold night air, feeling more lost than she had in years.