Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 185

**Hearts Written in Silent Rain by Ava Bloomfield**
**Chapter 185**

**Jessa**

Saturday mornings possess a certain stillness that hangs in the air, a familiar yet elusive quiet that envelops our home. It’s not the kind of quiet that lulls you into a peaceful slumber; no, our house has never quite mastered that art. Instead, it’s filled with the soft hum of the refrigerator, the distant drone of a neighbor’s lawn mower cutting through the grass, and the creaking floorboard by the hallway that Jackson stubbornly pretends doesn’t exist, despite it having announced his arrival since we were ten years old.

But today, amidst the usual sounds, my nerves scream loudly, drowning out everything else.

Here I am, standing in the kitchen, clad in fuzzy socks and an oversized T-shirt that hangs loosely on my frame. I’m pouring cereal into a bowl, and it feels as if I’m preparing for a mission of monumental importance rather than simply serving Cheerios. My hands tremble slightly, causing a few errant pieces to bounce off the counter and scatter across the surface.

Today is Homecoming Day.

I repeat the words in my mind like a mantra, hoping that with each repetition, it will start to feel less surreal, more like reality.

Homecoming Day.

I have a dress.

I have a date.

I’m going to the dance.

My stomach does a somersault, flipping over in a wave of excitement and anxiety.

As I reach for the milk, I hear the soft padding of footsteps approaching from behind me. They are heavy yet confident—there’s no mistaking who it is.

Jackson.

He strolls in looking annoyingly at ease for someone who not only scored the winning touchdown last night but was also crowned Homecoming King. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a Ridgeville football hoodie, his hair tousled and still messy from sleep. He opens the fridge casually, as if nothing extraordinary has happened in the last twenty-four hours.

“Where’s Mom?” he asks, reaching for the orange juice.

“She’s working a half shift,” I reply, setting the milk back down with a slight clatter. “She said she wants to be home later when we head out.”

He makes a noncommittal sound, “Yeah, okay.”

I glance over my shoulder, catching his eye. “She was really happy about last night. About you.”

He shrugs, pouring juice into a glass with an air of indifference. “It’s just a stupid crown.”

I scoff, unable to hold back a smile. “It is not stupid.”

Jackson snorts, rolling his eyes. “It’s literally a piece of plastic, Jess.”

“You don’t get it,” I say, spinning to face him fully. “You never get it.”

He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his gaze. “Then explain it.”

I open my mouth to respond but falter, the words caught in my throat.

Because how do I articulate what Homecoming means to me? It’s not merely about a crown or a football game or even the dance itself. It’s about being seen, being recognized, and feeling like I truly belong in a place that has spent years making me feel like an outsider.

So, instead of attempting to explain, I cross my arms defensively and mutter, “It’s just a big deal, okay?”

Jackson studies me for a moment, his expression shifting as if he senses the fragility of my feelings but doesn’t quite know how to tread carefully without breaking something important.

He lets it go—for now.

He takes a sip of his juice, then tilts his head slightly, studying me. “You’re wired.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“You,” he says, gesturing vaguely in my direction. “You’re vibrating. Have you had coffee?”

“No.”

“Energy drink?”

“No.”

“Illegal substances?”

“Jackson.”

“I’m kidding,” he replies quickly, laughter dancing in his voice. “Relax.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” I retort, a smirk creeping onto my face.

He grins back, a playful glint in his eyes. “Touché.”

Leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, he narrows his eyes slightly, studying me. “You nervous?”

I hesitate, the weight of his question hanging in the air.

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