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He was the last person she wanted. And the only one who truly saw her. Samantha Fitzgerald didn't come to Northbridge High to make friends-or enemies. All she wanted was to keep her head down, finish school, and outrun the shadows of her past. But Zander Kim, the arrogant, untouchable boy who rules the school with his silence and stares, has other plans. He's cruel, unreadable, and infuriatingly magnetic. And somehow, he's always there-challenging her, unraveling her, making her feel something she swore she'd buried. As sharp words turn to stolen glances and fake hate gives way to real, messy feelings, Sam begins to see the broken boy behind Zander's perfect mask. But getting close to someone like him means risking more than just her heart. Because falling for the school's most notorious bully? That might just be her most dangerous move yet.
Chapter 1
May 15, 2025
SAVANNAH
"You're too fat for that outfit, Savannah."
Those words still echo in my head as I stare at my reflection, tugging at the oversized black hoodie that swallows my frame. Alyssa calls it my security blanket. I call it survival gear. The baggy clothes hide everything I hate about myself—the rolls, the stretch marks, the fact that I take up too much space in a world that wants me to disappear.
But tonight, I don't want to be invisible anymore.
The bass from Melissa Carter's mansion thumps through my body as I stand at the edge of her manicured lawn. Light spills from every window, silhouettes moving like shadow puppets against the curtains. Beautiful people doing beautiful things. And for once, I've been invited.
Well, not exactly invited. Alyssa, my lab partner, mentioned it offhandedly while I helped her finish our chemistry project, the one she'd contributed exactly zero effort to. "Everyone's going to be there," she'd said with a shrug. "You could come too, I guess."
Not exactly a gilded invitation, but it was more than I usually got. I figured Alyssa wanted to be nice to me, finally.
The house is packed, bodies pressed together in a sweaty, perfumed mass. I navigate through the crowd, keeping my head down, mumbling "sorry" every time I bump into someone. Nobody notices. Nobody cares. I'm a ghost drifting through their party, just like I'm a ghost drifting through the hallways at school.
I find my way to the kitchen, hoping for water or maybe a soda. Something to hold in my hands so I look like I belong here.
"Well, well. Look who crawled out of her cave."
Madison Harper. Of course. Her voice has the same effect on me as nails on a chalkboard. I keep my eyes on the array of bottles on the counter, pretending I didn't hear her.
"I'm talking to you, Savannah Williams. What are you doing here? This party has a weight limit."
Her friends giggle on cue. I feel my cheeks burn, but I keep my eyes down.
"I was invited," I say, my voice barely audible over the music.
Madison lets out a theatrical gasp. "You were? By who? The catering company? Are you here to clean up after us?"
More giggles. More burning in my cheeks.
"Leave her alone, Madison," a male voice interrupts. I look up to see Tyler Chen, captain of the debate team and one of the few decent human beings at Westlake High. "Don't you have someone else to torment tonight?"
Madison rolls her eyes and saunters away, her friends trailing behind her like the tail of a poisonous comet.
Tyler gives me an apologetic smile, and I manage a weak smile. "Thanks."
"Yo, Tyler!" A guy from the debate team calls from the doorway. "Beer pong rematch! Rodriguez is talking trash again!"
Tyler looks at me apologetically before tottering away
I hover at the edge, nursing my Coke, trying to look like I'm waiting for someone rather than standing alone.
"Savannah Williams? Is that you hiding under all that fabric?"
I turn to see Alyssa, her eyes glassy from alcohol, her arm linked with Jennifer Kwan's. They both look me up and down with identical expressions of amused disbelief.
"Hi," I say lamely, with a smile, glad that Alyssa was finally here.
Jennifer tilts her head. "Why are you dressed like that?”
The words sting, but I've heard worse. Much worse.
“Do you even know what party it is that you’re dressed this way?” Before I could defend myself, she beat me to it again. "You know what? Tonight could be different. Tonight could be your transformation montage."
I frown. "What are you talking about?"
A dangerous gleam appears in Alyssa's eyes as she grabs my arm, dragging me toward the center of the room.
"Hey, everyone!" she shouts, her voice carrying over the music. "We have a situation here!"
To my horror, several people turn to look. The music doesn't stop, but it seems to fade as more and more eyes land on me. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape.
"Our friend Savannah here has been hiding her light under a bushel—or should I say, under this hideous hoodie!" Alyssa announces, tugging at my sleeve.
I try to pull away, but Jennifer is behind me now, blocking my escape.
Alyssa's smile widens as she turns to me. “Take off that tent you call a top. Show everyone you're actually a person under there."
My blood runs cold. "What? No. I'm wearing a tank top underneath, but—"
"Perfect!" Jennifer chimes in. "So you're decent. What's the problem?"
The problem is that my tank top is tight. The problem is that every roll, every stretch mark, every flaw I try to hide will be on display. The problem is that I know exactly what will happen when they see me—the real me.
But Alyssa is already leading a chant, her voice rising above the music. "Take it off! Take it off!"
Others join in, most of them probably too drunk to even know what they're chanting for. But some of them know. Madison knows, her eyes glittering with malicious anticipation. A small crowd has formed around us now, the chanting growing louder.
"Take it off! Take it off!"
The chanting blurs into one ugly, relentless noise. My cheeks burn, and my fingers go numb.
This is how you finally belong, I tell myself.
If I do this, they'll laugh, yes—but maybe they'll also let me in. Maybe I can stop being invisible. My trembling fingers find the hem of my shirt, and I hesitate.
The night air licks against my bare skin as I start to pull my top up. An inch of my stomach is exposed, then two. The chanting grows louder. I close my eyes, preparing for the gasps, the laughter, the moment when being seen becomes worse than being invisible.
Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
The voice makes shivers dart down my spine. It's deep, commanding, and achingly familiar. I turn slowly, to lock eyes with Blake Armstrong, a football star, the school swimming god, and my number one bully since sixth grade.

When My Bully Fell For Me
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