บททั้งหมดของ Invisible To Her Bully: บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 160

JessaSaturday mornings were supposed to be easy.Quiet.Predictable.Laundry. Dishes. Vacuuming.Maybe a book if Mom wasn’t yelling about dusting baseboards like they were national monuments.That was what I signed up for today — a boring, safe Saturday.Instead, I’d spent the last eight hours replaying the sound of Noah Carter’s voice saying sweet dreams like I was some lovesick extra in a teen romcom.I tried to distract myself with chores.The laundry basket was full. The kitchen needed wiping down. Jackson left his shoes in the hallway again because apparently being the quarterback meant he no longer had the basic motor skills required to put things away.I grabbed the laundry basket and headed down the hall, humming under my breath.That was new — humming.Normally I grumbled. Or sighed dramatically. Or cursed Jackson’s existence.But now?My stomach felt fluttery in a way that made no sense for 10 a.m. on a Saturday.Every time my mind wandered, it went right back to last night

JessaThe street outside Bethany Jones’ house looked like the opening scene of a horror movie about bad teenage decisions.Cars everywhere.Music loud enough to vibrate through the pavement.People screaming — some excited, some definitely terrified.Fog machine smoke drifting unnaturally across the yard like someone tried to summon ghosts.Mariah parked a block away, eyebrows raised. “Well. If the cops don’t show up tonight, they’re slacking.”My stomach twisted.I wasn’t ready for this.The last party I went to? The bonfire.Where I kissed Noah Carter.Where Jackson saw.Where everything exploded online.And now here I was — walking back into the chaos.I exhaled slowly. “Why am I doing this?”Mariah grinned. “Because you’re a teenager, because Noah Carter asked if you were coming, and because we’re trying this thing where you do brave stuff even though it terrifies you.”I snorted. “That sounds fake. And dangerous.”“Life is fake and dangerous,” she said, popping her door open. “Co

JacksonThe second Noah shoved past me with Jessa in his arms, something in my chest snapped.I saw her face — pale, shaken, trying so damn hard not to fall apart — and all the noise around me turned into static. Bethany’s music, the people cheering at the idiots jumping into the freezing pool, the drunk laughter… all of it faded.Because I knew exactly who did it.Daniel.Of course it was Daniel.I felt Mariah beside me. She’d watched it, too — her eyes sharp, her whole posture tight with fury.She leaned toward me and said in a low, cold voice, “Where is he?”I didn’t even have to answer — Daniel stumbled out from the back patio, laughing with two of his meathead followers, smug as hell. His shirt was half soaked, probably from shoving someone else into the pool, and he kept looking around like he was proud of the destruction he caused.My hands curled into fists.Mariah didn’t wait. She grabbed my wrist and marched us straight toward him.Daniel spotted us and smirked.“Uh-oh. Pare

JessaBy Monday morning, Ridgeville High felt like it was vibrating — not literally (though the HVAC made suspicious noises), but with gossip, with stares, with that awful buzzing energy that comes when the whole school thinks they’ve got front-row seats to your humiliation.Most of the rumors weren’t even true.Some said I was thrown into the pool.Some said I passed out.Some said Noah dragged me out like a lifeguard in a movie.None of that happened.What did happen was bad enough — hands grabbing my arms, laughter erupting, someone yelling something disgusting — before Noah stopped it.But the internet doesn’t care about accuracy. It cares about drama.By second period, my nerves were shot. By lunch, I was a ghost.Mariah stuck with me the whole day, glaring at anyone who looked twice, but even she couldn’t drown out every whisper.By the time the last bell rang, I felt like I’d been scraped clean. Not hurt. Not crying. Just… empty.I packed my books into my bag, silently praying

NoahBy the time I got to the locker room, practice gear slung over my shoulder, my head was already buzzing with a thousand thoughts I didn’t want to deal with. Normally after a Saturday game, I woke up pumped — win or lose — ready to get back on the field.Today?I woke up thinking about Homecoming.And Jessa.And how asking her to go with me felt like stepping off a cliff with no plan to land safely.I saw her last night long enough to talk on the phone before she went to bed. I could still hear her laugh in my head — soft, surprised, like she didn’t quite believe someone wanted to talk to her.I’d gone to sleep thinking about that.And woken up thinking about that.Which was a whole new level of dangerous.I shoved my gym bag into the locker and pulled off my hoodie just as Jackson sat down beside me, dropping his cleats onto the floor with a thud.He looked better than usual — less tense, less storm-cloud-with-hair energy. He stretched one leg out, groaning under his breath, then