Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 139

Noah

The cafeteria always sounded like chaos trays slamming, someone yelling for hot sauce, sneakers squeaking, and today, Mariah Morales lecturing the universe like she was about to run for office.

“I am telling you right now,” she declared, stabbing a fry in the air like it was a microphone, “Homecoming dresses are a scam created by the patriarchy AND capitalism. I needed a financial advisor just to look at the price tag.”

Shane coughed on his chocolate milk. “And THIS is why none of us go to dances.”

“You don’t go because you still don’t know how deodorant works,” Mariah fired back.

He blinked, nodded once. “Touché.”

I should’ve laughed harder. Normally I would have. But today everything felt… off–kilter. Like someone tilted the world a few degrees and expected me to pretend I didn’t feel it.

Jessa sat beside me, close enough our knees brushed. Close enough that I felt every tiny shift in the air when she moved. She had a soft red sweater on today – not loud, just warm, like fall and sunlight and comfort wrapped together.

She didn’t dress to get attention.

She dressed hoping not to be noticed.

Except now she was being noticed. By me. Constantly.

And that scared the hell out of me in a way even fourth–and–goal pressure never had.

Daniel’s voice tried to creep in again, oily and poisonous:

“You gonna tank your future over a girl who’ll drag down your image?”

I clenched my jaw – shoved that thought hard into the back of my skull. I hated that part of me even listened for a second. Because I knew the truth:

I liked her.

I wanted her.

And I wasn’t going to let Daniel Carter dictate my damn life.

But fear’s ugly, and it never left easy.

“You okay?” Jessa’s voice came soft beside me.

I blinked. She was watching me again – head tilted, brows pulling in small concern. She touches people with her eyes before she ever reaches for them physically. I never noticed that until recently.

“Yeah,” I lied. “Just thinking.”

1/5

“About what?”

You. Us. Football. College. All of it tangled like my brain got tackled.

I shrugged instead. “Just… stuff.”

She didn’t push

she never does. She gave me space like she understood silence, and for someone who used to feel invisible, she was really good at seeing people.

Before I could say anything else, Shane pointed a fry at me.

“So, Carter – tux or no tux?”

I stared. “For what?”

“Homecoming?” he sputtered. “Dude, don’t show up in your football hoodie like some jock cliché.”

Mariah gasped dramatically. “If you even THINK about wearing your jersey, I will drag you to Macy’s myself.”

Shane leaned back. “Honestly? Might be worth it just to see that fight.”

“Shut up, Shane,” Mariah and I said at the same time.

Jessa giggled – quiet, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to. God, it made my chest warm. She still did that: checked the room for permission to exist.

Not if I could help it.

I turned to her. “How’s dress shopping going?”

She made a noise like she’d stepped on a LEGO. “Tragic.”

Mariah threw her hands up. “The fashion industry hates boobs. I am convinced. The dresses are either made for stick figures or designed by aliens who think women are shaped like lamps.”

I snorted. “Sounds intense.”

“It was WAR,” Mariah growled. “We left casualties on the dressing room floor.”

Jessa flushed. Not embarrassed – just… vulnerable. Honest. Trying. She didn’t complain. She just existed through it, and somehow that made me want to throw my jacket over every stupid insecurity she had and guard it with my life.

“You’ll look great,” I said.

Her breath hitched the smallest bit. She didn’t look at me – she looked at her drink like compliments were dangerous and she needed both hands to hold the weight of them.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

My chest pulled tight. I shouldn’t feel like this over a two–word answer. But I did.

Because she said thanks like no one ever says it to her.

2/5

I hate that.

***** +25 BONUS

I looked away before the anger settled in my fists.

1. n. Watching. Jaw

“You’ve been really quiet today,” she whispered, leaning closer, her voice only for me. “More than usual. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I swallowed. She always asked like she actually wanted the answer – not like she was waiting for me to say I was fine so she could move on.

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