Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 23

Jessa

The air inside Daniel’s house is thick with heat and noise the second I step through the door. The bass thumps so hard that it vibrates up through my shoes, and the crush of bodies and smell of spilled beer almost makes me turn right back around.

Almost.

Mariah’s hand tightens on mine, keeping me rooted to the spot. “Breathe, Jess,” she whispers, leaning close to my ear so I can hear her over the music. “You look incredible. Just keep walking. Head high.”

I try. I really do.

But it feels like every single pair of eyes in the room is on me.

Some of them are wide with surprise, others narrowing in judgment. A couple of guys whisper to each other, and I don’t even want to know what they’re saying.

My stomach twists.

I knew coming tonight would be hard. After everything last weekend—the stupid spin-the-bottle game, everyone laughing, and Noah… laughing too—it took every ounce of courage I had to walk through that door.

But Mariah wouldn’t let me hide.

She said I deserved to feel like I belonged.

So here I am.

And now, all I want to do is run.

Jackson’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp with surprise.

“Jess… wow.”

I glance at him, and for a moment, I almost believe he’s proud of me. He looks stunned in a good way, his mouth hanging open a little. “You… you look completely different.”

I give him a small smile, shy but hopeful. “Thanks.”

Daniel ruins the moment instantly. “Didn’t recognize you without your usual hoodie, Lombardi,” he says loudly, smirking like he’s hilarious. Laughter ripples through his little group of friends.

Heat floods my face, and not in a good way.

Mariah glares at him, whispering under her breath, “Ignore that jerk. He’s just jealous you look better than half the people here.”

I nod, but my throat is tight. My carefully built-up confidence cracks, threatening to crumble altogether.

Then I feel it—that unmistakable sensation of being watched.

I look up, and there he is.

Noah Carter.

He’s standing just behind Jackson, his hands shoved into his pockets, his messy dark hair falling into his eyes. For a second, our gazes lock, and my heart stutters.

He’s looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like maybe… maybe he likes what he sees.

Then his expression shifts, guarded, and he forces a smirk. “Hey,” he says, his tone maddeningly casual. “You, uh… clean up nice.”

It’s almost a compliment. Almost.

But something about the way he says it makes it sound like a joke, like I’m just some girl playing dress-up.

I manage a polite “Thanks,” though it comes out thinner than I want, and walk past him with Mariah tugging me along.

My chest aches, and I hate that I care so much.

The night goes on, and people keep stealing glances at me like they’re trying to figure out if I really belong here. Mariah keeps whispering encouragement, dragging me into conversations, making sure I don’t slip into the wallpaper.

For a while, it even feels… good.

Like maybe I can be this girl—the one who turns heads, who laughs without worrying what people think.

But then Noah appears again.

One second I’m talking to Mariah and her boyfriend near the kitchen, and the next, Noah’s leaning against the counter beside me, his crooked smile aimed right at me. It does things to my stomach I don’t want to admit.

“You want a drink?” he asks, holding out a red plastic cup.

Mariah appears a second later, taking one look at my face and knowing exactly what happened. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Mariah narrows her eyes. “Oh, it matters. That boy has been messing with your head for years.”

I swallow hard, my throat burning. “I just… I don’t get it, Ri. One second he’s nice, like he actually sees me, and then the next he acts like I’m some joke he’s too cool to be seen with.”

Mariah’s expression softens. She puts her hands on my shoulders, grounding me. “Jess, listen to me. That has everything to do with him and nothing to do with you. Noah Carter doesn’t know what he wants, but you? You deserve better than mixed signals and half-truths.”

Her words are kind, but they don’t erase the echo of his voice in my head. Wouldn’t want you thinking you’re the queen of the party.

I glance toward the beer pong table where Noah is laughing with Jackson and Daniel, looking completely at ease. Like our conversation never even happened.

Like I don’t matter at all.

And that’s when it hits me, sharp and cold:

Maybe I really don’t matter to him.

Maybe I never will.

The rest of the night blurs. I smile when I’m supposed to, laugh at Mariah’s jokes, pretend like Noah’s words didn’t slice me open.

But inside, the truth festers.

No matter how much makeup I wear, no matter how perfect my hair is, I’ll never be like the other girls.

To them, I’ll always just be Jackson’s awkward twin.

The invisible one.

The one who isn’t enough.

And no makeover in the world can change that.