Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 7

Jessa

The 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, realizing I was attacking my food like it owed me money. I dropped the fork, my face heating. “I’m fine. Really.”

But the second I glanced up and across the cafeteria, fine went out the window.

There he was.

Noah Carter. Sitting with Jackson and the rest of the team, leaning back like he owned the place. His smirk was right where it always was, crooked and infuriating.

And worse—he was looking at me.

Not just a quick glance, either. His eyes lingered, like he was watching me, like maybe he had something to say.

My stomach twisted, and for a split second, I almost convinced myself he was going to get up, come over, and apologize.

But then Jackson leaned in, said something, and Noah smirked wider.

And just like that, the little flicker of hope died.

He wasn’t sorry.

He was laughing about me. Probably retelling the “thick thighs” joke, milking it for more laughs.

My throat closed up, and I forced myself to look away before my eyes betrayed me.

“Jess.” Mariah’s voice was softer now.

Concerned.

I blinked hard, pretending to be fascinated by the uneven swirl of tomato sauce on my tray. “What?”

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Shrinking.”

I froze.

Mariah sighed, resting her chin in her hand. “You hunch your shoulders. You try to make yourself small. Like if you fold in enough, maybe nobody will notice you.”

Still, Mariah’s words lodged somewhere deep.

Confidence. Ignore him.

Easier said than done. But maybe she was right. Maybe shrinking wasn’t the answer. Maybe if I stopped caring what Noah thought, he’d stop aiming his stupid smirk at me.

And maybe—just maybe—I’d stop caring about the fact that, under all the irritation and hurt, a tiny, traitorous part of me still thought he was good-looking.

The way his hair always looked like he’d just run a hand through it. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, even if the smile was at my expense. The way he moved on the field, sure and effortless.

I hated that I noticed. Hated it more than anything.

Because noticing meant he still had power over me.

I straightened my shoulders, forcing my spine tall.

Mariah’s gaze softened, but this time she didn’t say anything. She just nodded, like she knew a tiny battle had been won inside me.

Maybe I couldn’t change overnight. Maybe the sting of Noah’s words would take longer to fade than I wanted.

But I could start.

I could start by deciding I wasn’t going to shrink anymore.

And if Noah Carter wanted to make me the punchline again, fine.

I’d show him that I wasn’t so easy to break.