Invisible To Her Bully Chapter 18

Noah

I can’t get the look on her face out of my head.

Jessa.

The way her eyes went wide, glassy with unshed tears. The way her lips trembled when she turned and walked away from me in the hall like I was the worst person alive.

And maybe I am.

At least to her.

I keep replaying the moment over and over, like some kind of punishment.

I see myself laughing at the football table, smirking like an idiot while Daniel and the others cracked jokes about kissing her.

I hate it.

I hate me.

But when Jackson’s sitting right there, when half the team is watching, what am I supposed to do? Sit there and defend her? Admit that kissing Jessa Lombardi wasn’t a nightmare, that it actually… did something to me?

Yeah, right.

If I said that out loud, I’d never hear the end of it.

Jackson would probably kill me.

So instead, I laughed.

Because that’s what they expect from me. That’s what he expects from me.

After school, practice is brutal. Coach is on edge, Jackson’s in a mood, and the heat makes it worse. By the time we’re done running drills, my shirt is plastered to my skin, sweat dripping down my back.

Jackson jogs beside me as we head toward the locker room, tossing me a bottle of water. “You good, man? You’ve been off all day.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter, unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig.

Jackson gives me a side-eye. “Fine, huh? You’ve barely cracked a joke since lunch. That’s not like you.”

I force a laugh. “Maybe I’m just tired of carrying the whole team’s sense of humor on my back.”

He snorts. “Fair. But seriously, what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

It’s a lie, and we both know it.

Jackson shrugs, apparently willing to drop it for now. “Cool. Just making sure. Anyway, don’t forget—party at Daniel’s next weekend. Same deal as last time.”

My stomach twists. The last party was a disaster.

The spin-the-bottle fiasco.

Jessa’s wide, humiliated eyes.

I can still hear the laughter echoing in my head.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. Bring your A-game. Girls will be everywhere.” Jackson smirks, clearly ready to move on to lighter topics.

But my mind isn’t on random party hookups. It’s stuck on one girl.

One I can’t seem to get out of my head.

Later, after everyone’s gone, I sit on the tailgate of my truck, staring at the darkening sky. The field lights are still on, buzzing faintly in the background.

I tell myself to stop thinking about her.

To stop picturing the way she looked Saturday night when she walked into that party.

She’d been nervous, I could tell.

The way she tugged at her sleeves, the way her eyes darted around like she was waiting for someone to tell her she didn’t belong.

And yet… she was beautiful.

I’d noticed before, in little ways I never let myself dwell on.

The way her laugh sounded when she forgot to be self-conscious.

The stubborn tilt of her chin when she argued with me.

But that night, it hit me like a punch to the gut.

And then I ruined it.

Like I always do.

The spin-the-bottle game flashes through my mind.

I hadn’t even wanted to play. It was stupid, juvenile.

But Daniel egged me on, and everyone was watching, and when the bottle spun to Jessa…

Everything froze.

Her eyes went wide, panic written all over her face.

My own heart slammed against my ribs because the truth is, the idea of kissing her didn’t disgust me. Not even a little.

It scared me.

Because if I kissed her, I wasn’t sure I’d want to stop.

But the room erupted into laughter, someone shouting, “Noah’s gotta kiss Jessa! Man, that’s hilarious!”

So I did what I always do:

I hid.

Behind jokes. Behind a smirk. Behind the image everyone expects me to keep up.

I made it a joke, like she was a joke.

And I watched her crumble because of it.

I drag my hands over my face, groaning.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She’s Jackson’s sister.

My best friend’s twin.

Completely off-limits.

And yet, there’s this pull between us I can’t seem to fight.

When it’s just me and her, it’s easy to be… decent. Sometimes even nice.

Like earlier today, when I caught her at her locker. I almost apologized, almost told her I hadn’t meant any of it.

But then Jackson showed up, and I panicked.

So I flipped the switch, went cold, made some stupid crack about her taking up space in the hallway.

The look on her face when I said it…

God, I hate myself.

But what am I supposed to do? Admit to Jackson that I don’t actually hate his sister? That sometimes I like making her blush, that I think about her more than I should?

Jackson would lose his mind.

The guys would roast me endlessly.

My reputation would be shredded.

So I do the only thing I know how to do:

I keep her at arm’s length by pretending she means nothing.

And the messed-up part?

It works.

At least, for everyone but me.

When I finally get home, the house is quiet. My parents are out, probably at another one of their endless charity events.

I head straight to my room, collapsing on my bed.

My phone buzzes. A text from Jackson.

Party’s gonna be epic this weekend. Don’t forget.

I toss my phone aside, staring at the ceiling.

I should tell him I’m not going. That I’m done with these stupid parties, with putting Jessa in situations where she feels like the target.

But I don’t.

Because a part of me is selfish.

A part of me wants to see her again, even if it means risking hurting her all over.

Even if it means being the villain in her story, as long as I still get to be near her.

The next morning at school, she walks past me in the hallway.

Her chin is high, like she’s daring anyone to laugh at her.

But I can see the redness around her eyes, the way she clutches her books like they’re armor.

And something inside me twists painfully.

I want to say something.

To call her name, pull her aside, and tell her the truth—that every cruel word is a lie, that she’s worth more than she knows.

But then Daniel passes by, throwing me a knowing smirk.

Jackson claps me on the shoulder, nodding toward Jessa.

And just like that, the moment’s gone.

I shove my hands in my pockets and let her keep walking, my silence just another weapon cutting her down.

Because it’s easier to hurt her than admit I’m already hers.