Novels by Dea B

JessaThe second the laughter erupted, I felt it.Like every giggle, every jeer, every whispered comment was a knife slicing through me.“Guess you have to kiss the big girl!”The words echoed in my head, so loud I couldn’t hear the music anymore. My chest felt tight, my throat closing up as heat rushed to my face.I couldn’t sit there. I wouldn’t sit there.Before Noah could even move, before Jackson could reach for me again, I was on my feet, stumbling backward. My voice cracked as I forced the words out.“I’m done!”I didn’t wait for anyone to respond. Didn’t look back. I just ran—through the crowd, past the curious stares and poorly concealed smirks, and out the front door into the cool night air.The sharp bite of the autumn wind hit my skin like a slap, and only then did I realize I was shaking. My breaths came in shallow gasps, my vision blurred with tears.I hated them.I hated all of them.But mostly, I hated myself.I didn’t stop until I reached the end of the driveway, wher

NoahThe party had been going strong for over an hour, and the place was packed with bodies, music, and the smell of cheap beer and pizza. Jackson’s parents were out of town, which meant no rules, no curfew, and no one to stop us from being stupid.Perfect Friday night.Daniel and I were standing near the snack table when Jackson jogged over, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. That grin only meant one thing: trouble.“Spin the bottle,” he said, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of half the room. “We’re starting a game in the living room. Everyone’s in. Let’s go!”Daniel groaned. “Seriously? Are we in middle school again?”Jackson just shrugged, his grin widening. “Hey, you never know where the bottle might land.” He waggled his eyebrows, already scanning the room for girls.I chuckled. “Fine, let’s do it. Maybe it’ll spice things up.”We followed Jackson back to the living room, where a group was already gathering in a messy circle. People were laughing, drinks i

JessaThe second Noah’s words left his mouth, it felt like the whole room tilted.“Still a big girl, though.”They weren’t even the worst words I’ve ever heard. People have called me names before, tossed casual insults like they were confetti. But coming from him, with that crooked smirk and his voice just loud enough for half the room to hear, it burned.I wanted to shrink, to melt into the floorboards and vanish. My hands tugged at the hem of my shirt, wishing for the safety of my oversized hoodie, wishing I’d never let Mariah talk me into this stupid top.This was supposed to be my night. My chance to finally feel… different. Maybe even beautiful.But of course, Noah Carter had to open his mouth and remind me exactly who I was.The invisible twin. The awkward one. The “big girl.”Jackson didn’t help either. His face had gone all stiff, protective and annoyed. “You really shouldn’t be wearing that, Jess,” he’d said, like I was some kid who didn’t understand the world. Then, in typic

NoahDaniel’s house was buzzing the second we walked in. Music pounded through the walls, cups of soda and spiked punch already in half the hands I passed, and the kitchen counters were stacked with every kind of snack imaginable. Parties always felt the same—crowded, loud, predictable.Jackson was already in his element, high-fiving guys on the football team, talking big like he always did. I was right beside him, playing along, throwing back laughs and comments. Same old thing.And then the front door opened again.I almost didn’t look. But something made me glance over—and when I did, my smirk slipped.Jessa walked in.Not the Jessa I usually saw trailing behind Jackson in sweatshirts, ducking her head like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Not the invisible Jessa that half the school overlooked unless they wanted to make a joke.Tonight she had on this black top that actually fit her, clinging in ways I didn’t expect, paired with dark jeans and boots that gave her j

Mariah’s bedroom looks like the aftermath of a fashion tornado. Clothes are scattered across her bed, hangers hooked on the doorknob, shoes kicked into the corner. She’s sprawled on the carpet, painting her nails like the mess doesn’t exist. Meanwhile, I’m standing in front of her mirror, tugging at the hem of the black top she made me borrow.“It’s too tight,” I mutter, turning sideways and frowning at the way it hugs my stomach.“It’s not tight, it’s fitted,” Mariah says, blowing on her nails. “There’s a difference.”I pull at the fabric anyway, wishing it would magically loosen. “It clings. I look ridiculous.”“You look hot,” she says without even glancing up.Hot. The word makes my cheeks burn. I don’t look hot. I look like me—Jessa Lombardi, the girl with the round face and the thighs Noah Carter couldn’t resist mocking. The girl who everyone looks past to get to my twin brother, Jackson.I tug at the top again, then reach for the oversized hoodie I brought in my bag. “Forget it.

Noahswear, Jessa Lombardi has a permanent target painted on her back.Not that she knows it—but I can’t stop aiming for it. It’s too easy. She’s too easy. The way her cheeks flush when I throw out a jab, the way her eyes spark like she’s caught between wanting to deck me and wanting to disappear.Most girls roll their eyes or toss something back. Jessa… she feels everything. And I can’t help it—I like watching her squirm.Even if sometimes, afterward, I wonder why I push her so hard.Maybe it’s because I notice her more than I should.She’s not like the girls who hang around after practice, batting their lashes and hoping for attention. Jessa doesn’t try. She hides in hoodies and keeps her head down, like she doesn’t realize she’s got this fire in her that makes it impossible not to look.But instead of saying that, I run my mouth. I joke. I poke. And when she stares back at me with that wounded glare, it hits deeper than I ever admit.Like yesterday, when she actually snapped back.