Invisible To Her Bully Chapter 12

Noah

Daniel’s house was buzzing the second we walked in. Music pounded through the walls, cups of soda and spiked punch already in half the hands I passed, and the kitchen counters were stacked with every kind of snack imaginable. Parties always felt the same—crowded, loud, predictable.

Jackson was already in his element, high-fiving guys on the football team, talking big like he always did. I was right beside him, playing along, throwing back laughs and comments. Same old thing.

And then the front door opened again.

I almost didn’t look. But something made me glance over—and when I did, my smirk slipped.

Jessa walked in.

Not the Jessa I usually saw trailing behind Jackson in sweatshirts, ducking her head like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Not the invisible Jessa that half the school overlooked unless they wanted to make a joke.

Tonight she had on this black top that actually fit her, clinging in ways I didn’t expect, paired with dark jeans and boots that gave her just a little edge. Her hair—normally tied back or just hanging plain—was curled, catching the light when she moved. And for the first time in forever, she didn’t look like Jackson’s awkward twin.

She looked… different.

My chest tightened in a way I didn’t like.

Jackson’s reaction, though? He nearly choked on his drink. “Jess, what are you wearing?” His voice carried, loud enough for half the people near the door to hear.

Jessa froze, tugging at her shirt like she’d already regretted everything. “Mariah picked it,” she said softly.

Her voice was almost drowned out by the music, but I caught it.

Jackson frowned, his face pinching. “It’s too much. You don’t need to be showing all that.”

I don’t know why I opened my mouth. Maybe because the tightness in my chest annoyed me. Maybe because I didn’t like the way Jackson was staring at her like she’d done something wrong. Or maybe because I’ve never known how to deal with Jessa except by poking where it hurts.

“Wow, Lombardi,” I said, letting a smirk curl on my lips. “Guess you lost some weight since the last time I looked. Still a big girl, though.”

The words slid out smooth, casual, like I’d meant them as a joke. But the second they hit her, I saw it—the flicker in her eyes, the way her face dropped. She looked like someone had just sucker-punched her.

Her hand pulled at the edge of her top again, her shoulders curling inward like she wanted to hide under a hoodie. She wouldn’t even look at me.

And for some reason, that made my stomach twist.

Jackson didn’t even notice. He just laughed, shaking his head, and got distracted when someone shouted his name from across the room. Typical Jackson—never staying in one moment long enough to see how it hit his sister.

But I saw.

Jessa’s throat bobbed like she was swallowing back words she wouldn’t say. Her eyes darted to the floor, then to the side, then anywhere but me. She already looked like she wanted to turn and run back out the door.

That wasn’t what I wanted. Not really.

But I didn’t take it back either. I never do. Because teasing Jessa has always been… easy. Too easy. She reacts to everything—every comment, every jab. Sensitive to the bone. And maybe part of me likes the way I can get under her skin without even trying.

But then she turned toward Mariah, who looped an arm through hers and leaned close. “Forget them,” Mariah said, loud enough for me to catch. “You look amazing. Don’t let anyone ruin this night, especially not your brother or Carter.”

The way she said my name—sharp, defensive—hit me like a slap. I forced another smirk, raising my cup like I didn’t care. But something in me bristled.

Jessa tried to smile back at Mariah, but it wobbled. She looked like she was clinging to her friend’s words for dear life, but the doubt still shadowed her eyes.

She wanted to be anywhere but here.

And the thing that killed me? She shouldn’t. Because for one second, when she walked in, every guy near that doorway noticed her. I saw it. They weren’t staring at Jackson—they were staring at her.

But Jessa didn’t believe it. And I’d made damn sure she wouldn’t.

I ran a hand through my hair, forcing myself to look away. I laughed at something Daniel said about the team, pretended like I hadn’t just watched Jessa fold in on herself because of a stupid comment I threw out.

That’s what I do—pretend.

Pretend she doesn’t get to me. Pretend I don’t notice her more than I should. Pretend I don’t care if she looks crushed.

Because if I didn’t pretend, I’d have to admit the truth:

I didn’t tease her just because she was sensitive. I teased her because if I didn’t, I might end up showing how much I actually see her.

And that? That would be dangerous.

But Jessa didn’t run. Not yet. I watched her from across the room while she clung to Mariah, letting her friend drag her deeper into the crowd. She looked stiff at first, awkward, like she wanted to shrink into the walls. But then Mariah shoved a cup into her hand, whispered something that made her crack a tiny laugh, and for a moment, her shoulders loosened.

I caught myself staring too long.

Daniel nudged me. “You coming, Carter? We’re starting pong.”

“Yeah,” I said automatically, but my eyes flicked back to Jessa one more time. She was standing at the edge of the room, shifting like she wasn’t sure if she should stay.

And I hated myself for the fact that part of me wanted her to.