Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 79

Noah

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The alarm went off at 6:15, same as always, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t hit snooze because I was tired – I hit it because I didn’t want to get up at all.

Usually, Tuesday mornings were easy. Routine.

I’d grab my bag, pull on whatever hoodie smelled the least like the inside of my locker, then head over to Jackson’s. He’d be waiting out front, eating cereal straight from the bowl like a psychopath, his cleats already hanging off his backpack. We’d ride to school together, talk about practice, joke about teachers, maybe stop for coffee if we weren’t already running late.

But this morning… I just sat there staring at my phone, thumb hovering over Jackson’s name.

And I didn’t text.

Didn’t call.

Because things weren’t easy anymore.

And pretending they were would’ve been a lie.

The silence in my room felt heavier than usual. I could hear the faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft creak of the floorboards whenever I shifted on the edge of my bed. My football gear was still in a pile by the door, mud–caked from yesterday’s practice. I should’ve cleaned it. Coach would lose it if he saw me show up with cleats like that.

But I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Everything felt… off.

Like the world had tilted a few degrees while I wasn’t paying attention, and now nothing lined up the way it was supposed to.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. I’d thought last night would help. I’d thought if I just talked to Jessa – if I just told her the truth, or at least as much of it as I could manage that maybe I’d finally stop feeling like I was drowning.

–

But walking away from her door hadn’t made me feel lighter. It made me feel worse.

Because the look on her face – that mix of shock, anger, and hurt – was burned into my brain.

Because for the first time, I realized I wasn’t just hurting myself by screwing things up with her.

I’d hurt her.

And I didn’t even know how to fix it.

18:34 Mon, Oct 13

Chapter 79

G

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I grabbed my backpack and keys, forcing myself up. The mirror by my dresser caught my reflection – tired eyes, messy hair, jaw tight enough to ache. My mom used to say I had “the face of a fighter.” I didn’t feel like one. I felt like someone who kept walking into the ring just to lose on purpose.

I walked out the door, locking it behind me, and the cool morning air hit my face. It should’ve woken me up. Instead, it just reminded me of every morning I’d spent leaning against Jackson’s truck, waiting for him to

come out.

The empty street felt wrong.

I hated how quiet it was.

I hated how weird it felt not being part of that rhythm – not being over at Jackson’s house, joking about who was more likely to get yelled at by Coach that day.

We used to be a team, on and off the field. But lately, every word between us felt sharp–edged.

And the worst part? I couldn’t even blame him.

He was right. I’d been off. Not just this week – for a while now. And he’d tried to cover for me, tried to pull me back into focus. But everything inside me felt tangled – between what happened with Jessa, with Daniel, with the pressure of being perfect all the time – I didn’t even know what I was supposed to hold onto

anymore.

By the time I pulled into the school parking lot, the lot was already half full. I spotted Jackson’s truck near the front, parked in the same spot as always. For a second, I thought about going over. Just walking up and saying something — anything. Pretend like nothing had changed.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Instead, I stayed in my car until the warning bell rang, then headed inside.

The hallways were their usual blur of noise – lockers slamming, kids laughing, sneakers squeaking against the floor. But I wasn’t really part of it. I moved through it like a ghost, my head down, trying not to draw attention. Which was ironic, considering half the people here couldn’t stop staring whenever I walked by

Star player.

Golden boy.

Whatever label they wanted to give me that day.

They didn’t see the cracks underneath.

I stopped by my locker, swapping out books and trying not to think about Jessa – which, of course, meant I couldn’t think about anything else.

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