Invisible To Her Bully Chapter 36

Jessa

The crowd around the bonfire had thinned, people drifting toward their cars or grouping up near the music.

The laughter and shouting felt distant now, the glow of the fire fading behind me as I walked toward the darker edge of the field.

And there she was.

Jessa stood alone, just outside the circle of light.

The bonfire lit her from behind, outlining her curves and catching in her hair like molten gold.

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, but it didn’t look like she was cold.

It looked like she was holding herself together.

For a second, I just… watched her.

Like some idiot who’d never seen a girl before.

My heart kicked hard against my ribs, the way it always did when I got too close to her.

I cleared my throat softly, forcing my feet to move. “Hey.”

She turned, startled, and even in the shadows, I could see the guarded look in her eyes.

“Noah,” she said flatly, like my name tasted bitter in her mouth. “What do you want?”

“You okay?” I asked, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.

Her chin lifted slightly. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You’ve been… quiet tonight.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets, trying to look casual while my pulse went haywire.

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t feel like talking to you.”

The hit landed square in my chest.

I deserved it — hell, I probably deserved worse — but it still made my throat tighten.

I swallowed. “Look, I just…”

My voice faltered, and I had to glance away before meeting her gaze again.

“I’m glad you came. You look—”

“Don’t.”

The word sliced through the space between us.

I blinked. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t say something nice now just to turn around and laugh about me with your friends later.”

Her voice trembled, anger and hurt tangled so tightly I couldn’t tell which one was winning.

Guilt surged hot and ugly in my chest because, damn it, she wasn’t wrong.

I had laughed before.

I’d stood by while others did worse.

I took a step closer, the distance between us shrinking to almost nothing. “Jessa, I—”

“Noah, stop.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Just stop.”

“Why? So you can keep shutting me out?”

She glared at me, breathing hard. “Because you don’t get it! You don’t get what it’s like to be me.”

“I’m trying to get it,” I shot back, my frustration breaking through. “But you won’t let me.”

Her breath hitched, and for one electric second, we just stared at each other.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us blinked.

The air between us changed — thickened, charged, like the whole world was holding its breath.

And then, without even thinking, I reached out.

My hand brushed her arm, light as a whisper, and she sucked in a sharp breath like the touch burned her.

Her lips parted, trembling slightly, and she tilted her face up toward mine.

We were so close now that I could see every tiny fleck of gold in her brown eyes, could feel the faint heat of her breath against my cheek.

God, I wanted to kiss her.

I wanted to cross that last inch and finally taste what I’d been craving for months, maybe years.

She swayed toward me, just a fraction, and that was it — the breaking point.

My heart roared like the fire behind us, drowning out everything else.

I dipped my head, closing the gap—

And then panic and pride slammed into me at once.

Because if I kissed her, it wouldn’t just be about us.

It would mean she saw me, the real me. And if she rejected me after that…

I’d be ruined.

So instead of doing the smart thing, the right thing, I said the stupidest thing possible.

“Maybe if you stopped acting like a victim,” I muttered, my voice sharp, defensive, “people wouldn’t treat you like one.”

⸻

The words hung in the cold night air like poison.

Jessa jerked back as if I’d physically slapped her.

Her face went pale, then flushed crimson, her breath coming in short, harsh bursts.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence between us.

The kind that cuts deeper than any scream.

Then her voice broke, low and shaking, but fierce as hell.

“You—you think I like this? You think I want to be the way I am?”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her whole body trembling now.

“You don’t know what it’s like to wake up every single day hating what you see in the mirror. To try so hard to be someone different, someone better, only to have everyone remind you that you’re never going to be good enough!”

“Jessa—” I tried to step forward, but she threw her hand up like a barrier.

“No. Shut up!” she snapped, her voice breaking completely.

Tears shone in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. She wouldn’t let them.

“You don’t get to tell me I’m playing victim, Noah. Because you? You get everything handed to you. You’ve never had to fight for a damn thing.”

Her words hit me like body blows — each one sharp and true and deserved.

And then she said the thing that cut deepest of all.

“You’re just like everyone else,” she whispered. “I should’ve known better than to think you were different.”

Before I could respond, before I could fix it, she turned and stormed away, her figure swallowed by the darkness at the edge of the field.

I stood there alone, the bonfire crackling behind me, knowing I’d just ruined everything — and hating myself for it.