Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible. Noah was the quintessential “It” guy at school—charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson’s best friend and Jessa’s biggest bully. During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin. As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah. Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson’s sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies? Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.
View MoreJessa
Seven Years Earlier
Growing up as a twin sounds fun, right? Built-in best friend, someone who always has your back, someone who gets you without explanation. That’s what I had—at least for the first ten years of my life.
My twin brother, Jackson, was the center of my world. We were fraternal twins, but opposites in every way. Jackson was tall, lean, athletic, and could make friends with just about anyone. I was short, a little chunky, shy to the point of painful, and usually tripping over my own feet.
But it never mattered to me. I didn’t need a million friends. I had Jackson. He was my best friend, my other half, my person.
It was always just the two of us. Our mom worked constantly to keep food on the table, so most of the time it was just me and him. Maybe that’s why we clung to each other so hard.
“Jax, I wanna go home,” I whined, dragging my feet as he tossed a football from hand to hand.
“Jess, chill. I told the new kid I’d meet him here to throw the ball around,” he said, his brown eyes locked on the field like he was already in the NFL.
“This is boring.” I plopped down on the grass.
He sighed, dug in his pocket, and tossed me a granola bar. “Here. Peanut butter. Your favorite.”
Instant mood boost. “Yes! Thanks, Jax.”
While I was tearing open the wrapper, he straightened up, glancing at the entrance to the field. “That’s him.”
A boy about our age walked toward us, a football tucked under his arm. He had dark, messy brown hair and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. The kind of eyes you notice right away. And his lashes? Long enough to make me jealous.
“Hey,” he said to Jackson.
“Hey, Noah. This is my twin, Jessa.”
I scrambled up, brushing grass off my jeans. My mouth moved faster than my brain. “Wow… you’ve got really long eyelashes. For a boy.”
Noah’s cheeks turned pink. “Uh, thanks?”
Jackson groaned. “Sorry, she doesn’t have a filter sometimes.”
“I just meant they’re… pretty,” I tried, wishing I could disappear.
“Jess, why don’t you go sit while we toss the ball around,” Jackson muttered.
“She doesn’t play?” Noah asked.
I shook my head before Jackson could answer. “Not really my thing.”
“Nope. If she tried to throw, she’d probably knock herself over,” Jackson joked.
I pretended not to care, sitting back down on the sidelines, but my eyes kept drifting toward Noah as he and Jackson tossed the ball. He wasn’t just cute—he was quiet, too. Almost shy. Something about him made me want him to like me.
After they finished, Jackson clapped him on the back. “You’ve got a good arm.”
“Two older brothers taught me some stuff,” Noah shrugged.
“Oh! So they’re your best friends too, like me and Jackson?” I asked eagerly.
“No. They’re just… brothers. I don’t really have a best friend.”
My heart squeezed. “Then you should get one. Me and Jackson do everything together. He’s the best best friend you could ever have.”
Noah looked at Jackson. Jackson just shrugged. Noah nodded slightly, like he got the message.
At the time, I didn’t realize how wrong I was.
One Month Later
“I don’t wanna go to the movies, Jax!” I whined, arms crossed.
“Too bad. Noah and I wanna see the new Marvel movie. You can’t stay home alone.”
“We always do what you and Noah want. What about me?”
He sighed. “Jess, I love you. But sometimes I wanna do stuff without you. You need to find your own friends.”
That stung more than I wanted to admit.
The doorbell rang, and Noah walked in with his usual smirk.
“Sup.”
“Jess, get your shoes on,” Jackson ordered.
“She’s coming too?” Noah asked.
“Yeah. Mom’s at work. I’m babysitting.”
“Babysitting?” I snapped. “We’re the same age! You’re not babysitting me.”
“I’m twelve minutes older,” Jackson shot back.
Noah snickered. “She’s definitely acting like the baby.”
I stormed off to grab my shoes, but I froze halfway up the stairs when I heard Noah’s voice:
“Man, your sister’s such a brat. Wish she didn’t have to tag along.”
Jackson’s answer was the knife that cut deepest. “Tell me about it.”
At the theater, I tried to forget. “Jax, can we get popcorn? With extra butter?”
Noah raised his brows. “Do you really need the extra butter?”
I clenched my fists. “Yes. I like it that way.”
Jackson slipped me a couple of bills. “Get your own small one.”
I headed for the snack line, and that’s when I heard them again.
“She always has to be eating,” Noah muttered.
“Yeah,” Jackson said with a low laugh. “Sometimes it’s embarrassing to be seen with her.”
The words hit harder than any punch. My own twin—my best friend—was embarrassed of me.
“Hey, it’s your turn,” a girl behind me said gently.
I shook my head. “Changed my mind.”
She frowned. “You okay?”
“No,” I whispered. “I think I lost my best friend.”
She studied me, then said, “I’m Mariah. We’re in the same class, right? You’re Jessa. Jackson’s twin.”
“Yeah.”
“What movie are you supposed to be seeing?”
“Some superhero thing.”
Mariah smirked. “Ditch it. Come with me instead. There’s a new comedy. Way cuter lead actor.”
Before I could decide, Jackson and Noah appeared.
“Jess, what’s taking so long?” Jackson demanded. “Oh, hey, Mariah.”
Mariah smiled sweetly. “Hi. Jessa and I are seeing the comedy instead.”
Jackson shrugged. “Fine. Meet us in the lobby after.”
As he and Noah disappeared, Mariah tugged me toward her theater.
“Come on. You need a laugh.”
I glanced back one last time at my brother’s retreating figure.
He stole my best friend, I thought. And he’s never giving him back.
Three Years Later
Thirteen hit me hard. My body changed in ways I didn’t ask for. I wasn’t the chubby little girl anymore—I had curves. Breasts too big for my age. Hips that didn’t match the other girls at school.
Mom always said, Girls built like us need to cover up. Layers make you look thinner.
So I wore baggy shirts. Oversized hoodies. Clothes that swallowed me whole. It didn’t matter. The teasing still came.
“Jess, you’re wearing that?” Jackson asked one morning, eyeing my loose shirt.
“It’s comfortable.”
“It’s a tent.” He rolled his eyes and left.
Mom kissed my cheek. “Ignore him. He doesn’t understand what it’s like for girls like us.”
At school, the comments started before I even reached the doors.
“The circus is in town!”
“Yeah, they brought the whale exhibit!”
My stomach dropped when I saw where it came from—Jackson and Noah, flanked by their football buddies, all laughing.
“Nice shirt, Jess,” Noah snorted. “They only had tent size left?”
“Shut up, Noah.”
Jackson smirked. “Told you it was too big.”
“Perfect for hiding that fat ass,” Noah added, sending the group into hysterics.
I turned away, pretending I couldn’t hear. But their laughter followed me.
By the time I reached my locker, my hands were shaking. I tugged the handle, but it was jammed. Mariah appeared at my side.
“Need help?”
We pulled together until it finally burst open—and trash bags tumbled out, spilling all over the hallway.
A note taped to one read: Got you a new wardrobe.
The roar of laughter around us was deafening.
“Did you do this?” Mariah snapped at Jackson and Noah, who had pushed through the crowd to watch.
Noah grinned. “She wants to dress like a hobo? Why not just give her options?”
Jackson chuckled. “Relax. It’s just a joke.”
Mariah glared at him. “She’s your sister.”
But Jackson only walked away with Noah.
I stared at the trash bag in my hands. For just one second, I wished I could trade places. To be the one laughing, not the one humiliated.
Present Day
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I groaned, slamming my alarm clock. Senior year. My last year in this hellhole.
I’m Jessa. Nobody special. Just the overweight twin sister of Jackson, starting quarterback and golden boy of our high school. The sister his best friend, Noah Carter, has made it his life’s mission to torment.
Once, when I was ten, I thought Noah was cute. That crush didn’t survive the year. Now at eighteen, he’s tall, broad-shouldered, perfect hair, perfect smile. Every girl wants him.
And I can’t stand him.
But he’s always around—because he’s Jackson’s best friend. The boy who stole my brother from me.
I roll out of bed and tug on my armor: jeans, tank top, oversized button-up. The layers hide the body I’ve been told to be ashamed of.
Time to sneak out before Jackson sees me. Before Noah’s voice finds me.
Another day. Another battle.
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.
JessaThe mirror has always been my enemy.Most nights, I try not to look. I throw my hoodie on the chair, pull on pajamas, and crawl under the covers without giving the glass across my room a second glance. But tonight… I can’t help it.Noah’s words are still stuck in my head. Thick thighs. The way everyone laughed. The way Jackson didn’t even think to defend me—he just laughed too, like it was harmless. Like it was fine.My eyes flick toward the mirror, and before I can stop myself, I’m standing in front of it.I tug my T-shirt tighter around my middle, then looser, then tighter again. My reflection stares back at me, cruel and unforgiving. I pinch at the skin on my stomach, my hips, my legs.“Why?” My voice cracks in the empty room. “Why did I have to be the big girl?”The words echo, hollow, pathetic.Tears burn the corners of my eyes. I swipe at them, angry. Angry at Noah for putting this weight back in my chest. Angry at Jackson for laughing. Angry at me for caring so much.But
JessaIt’s easy for people like Mariah to say “ignore him.”Because Mariah isn’t me. She isn’t stuck in a body that feels wrong no matter what angle you look at it. She isn’t the girl who hears the word thick and feels it pressing down on her like a weight she can’t throw off.I hate that word.I hate the way it echoes in my head when I try on jeans in the dressing room. I hate the way I compare myself to every other girl at school—girls with flat stomachs and legs that look like they belong on magazine covers.I hate that when Noah said it yesterday, even though he said it with that crooked smirk, my brain didn’t argue with him.It agreed.It whispered, He’s not wrong. You are thick. You are the joke.And I hate myself most of all for believing it.At night, lying in bed, I sometimes imagine waking up as someone else. Someone who doesn’t have to tug her hoodie tighter around her in the cafeteria. Someone who doesn’t worry that people are staring at her legs when she runs drills on th
JessaThe worst part wasn’t Noah’s comment itself.It was that he said it in front of everyone.The words—“Don’t want your thick thighs getting stuck”—still echoed in my head like a chant I couldn’t shut off. They followed me into the cafeteria the next day, clinging to me like smoke I couldn’t wash off.I kept my head down, tray balanced in my hands, pretending I didn’t hear the laughter that had bubbled up after he said it. Pretending it didn’t sting. Pretending I was fine.But I wasn’t.Because no matter how hard I tried to brush it off, I’d felt the sting behind my ribs. The kind that didn’t fade once the moment passed.Mariah nudged me as we slid into a table near the back. “You okay?”“Totally,” I said quickly, stabbing my fork into the mystery pasta on my tray. “Why wouldn’t I be?”She gave me a look. The kind that said she knew me too well. “Because you’ve been quiet since practice yesterday. And because you’re chewing like you’re imagining murdering someone.”I blinked, reali
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