Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Bully Next Door: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Ella I shouldn’t go after him. Every sensible part of me knows that. The version of me that spent years surviving by staying quiet is practically screaming at me to let it go. Walk away. Stay out of it. Don’t get involved in whatever just happened out there. Because whatever happened at that party wasn’t normal. Beckett Cross doesn’t defend me. He doesn’t tell people to back off. He doesn’t start fights because someone looked at me the wrong way. He definitely doesn’t make a scene in front of half the school over anything that has to do with me. And yet that’s exactly what he did. My heart is still pounding as I slip through the side gate and leave the noise of the party behind. The music becomes muffled. The laughter fades. But the tension follows me anyway. I find him standing beside the house near one of the patio tables. His hands are braced against the edge. His head is lowered. He’s breathing hard, like he’s trying to get control of something. For a second, I almost tu

Beckett The second I step inside the house, I know I’m screwed. Not because of the party. Not because of Tyler or Sean or the dozen questions waiting for me the next time I see my friends. Because of her. The front door swings shut behind me, muffling the music outside, and suddenly it’s quiet enough to think. Which is exactly the problem. Every thought I have keeps circling back to Ella. I head straight for the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. The cold air hits my face when I pull the door open, but it doesn’t help. Neither does the water. I lean against the counter and take a long drink. Still there. Her standing by the pool. Her walking away. The look on her face after I said no. I close my eyes briefly. That one stings more than it should. It shouldn’t matter. None of it should. The party is still going outside. My friends are probably still talking about what happened. By tomorrow, half the school will have their own version of the story. And

Ella I wake up before my alarm. For a few seconds, I just lie there staring at the ceiling, confused by the unfamiliar room around me. The walls aren’t mine. The furniture isn’t mine. Even the silence feels different. Then it all comes rushing back. Beckett’s house. The party. The fight. The conversation in my bedroom. My stomach immediately knots. “Awesome,” I mutter to the empty room. I roll onto my back and throw an arm over my eyes. Yesterday feels like it happened a week ago instead of a few hours. The worst part is that I’m tired. Not physically. Emotionally. Like someone reached into my chest and pulled every feeling out by force. And honestly? Maybe that’s a good thing. Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep overthinking every look, every conversation, every confusing thing Beckett does. It’s exhausting. So lying there in the quiet, I make a decision. No more. No more looking for hidden meanings. No more wondering if he cares. No more letting him

Beckett I should leave. The thought hits me almost immediately after Ella disappears down the hallway. Just grab my keys. Go to the gym. Go for a drive. Go literally anywhere that isn’t this house. Because every time we’re in the same room lately, things somehow get worse. Not better. Not clearer. Worse. I stand there staring at the hallway longer than I should, listening to the sound of her footsteps fade. Then silence. Complete silence. And somehow that’s worse too. “Beckett!” I close my eyes. Of course. Mason. I turn around and find him sprawled dramatically across the living room floor like he’s been abandoned for years instead of thirty seconds. “What?” He points toward the kitchen. “Are we eating lunch or are you just standing there being weird?” Despite myself, I snort. “Being weird?” “Yeah.” His answer comes instantly. “No offense.” “Pretty sure that’s offensive.” Mason shrugs. “I’m hungry.” “That’s the important part.” Finally. Something I understa

Beckett I can’t sleep. I’ve been lying here for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling while the digital clock beside my bed creeps further into the night. Every time I close my eyes, my brain immediately decides that’s the perfect opportunity to replay the last twenty-four hours. The party. The argument. The look on Ella’s face when she walked away. I let out a frustrated groan and throw an arm over my eyes. “What is wrong with me?” The question disappears into the darkness. No answer comes back. Of course it doesn’t. Because if I had an answer, maybe I wouldn’t still be awake. I roll onto my side. Then onto my back. Then onto my other side. Nothing helps. The entire house is silent, but somehow that makes everything worse. There are no distractions. No teammates texting. No music. No game highlights playing in the background. Just me. And my thoughts. Which is apparently a dangerous place to be lately. My jaw tightens. Because every road somehow leads back