Falling For Xavier Reyes, My Bully

A Break In The Noise

BEATRICE

I don't wait.

The moment Pete enters, I storm to the living room. He goes into the kitchen, opens the fridge and takes a beer. The day is barely over. He looks up lazily. "Hey kid, what's with you--" "Don't go near my brother again." My voice is sharp. Clear. No tremble, no stutter.

Pete's brows rise, amused. "Excuse me?" I step closer, fire lighting behind my eyes. "You heard me. You go near Teddy again, I swear to God—" "What?" he interrupts, taking a step toward me, towering. "You gonna throw a tantrum? Call your mommy?"

I don't flinch. "Maybe I will. Maybe I'll call the cops. Maybe I'll burn this whole place down with you in it." Pete stares at me, face hardening. The seconds stretch like wire. Then he laughs. "You've got balls, I'll give you that." I don't move until he walks away, muttering something under his breath and slamming the bathroom door behind him. I stay there for a long time, hands still shaking from the effort it takes not to break.

I know I would pay for this but rather me than my brother.

---

I keep my head down all morning.

Pete hasn't touched Teddy again. Not last night. Not this morning. But I don't trust the silence. It's the kind that curls under your skin and waits for you to exhale before sinking its teeth in.

At school, I feel the shift the moment I walk in. Xavier ignores me. Not subtly. Not accidentally. It's Cold. Purposeful. He passes me in the hallway with his headphones on and his eyes somewhere else, like I'm a stranger. Like that moment in the cafeteria never happened. Like I don't exist. By second period, it's obvious he is doing it on purpose. He speaks to everyone, cracking jokes, flashing smiles, but when I'm near, it's like someone flipped a switch and turned him off. I'm not sure if it hurt more or if it just pisses me off

At lunch, I hesitate by the door, scanning for a safe place to sit before Shayla can spot me. "Yo," a voice calls out. "Sit here. I won't bite." I turn. It's the girl from AP class, dark curls, silver hoops, and combat boots. She is sitting alone at a back table, tray half-empty and eyes warm.

"I'm Stella,” she says when I walk over. “I figured if I waited for you to sit alone again, I'd feel like a creep." I sit down slowly. "Thanks… I'm Beatrice." Stella nods like she already knows. "People around here suck." I give a small smile. "You noticed?"

"They're fake. Plastic. Obsessive about stupid s**t. You, on the other hand, are the only person I've seen brush off Shayla without crying or begging for approval. So, yeah. I like you." I blink, unsure of what to say. My first instinct is to pull back. But there is something about Stella, blunt and steady, that makes me feel… safe. We talk about teachers, dumb group projects, music. Normal things. Easy things.

Until Stella glances across the cafeteria and says casually, “Is that guy messing with you?”

I followed her gaze. Xavier, leaning against a table with one of the football guys, is smirking about something. His eyes catch mine and instead of looking away, he winks. I look down at my tray, heart thudding.

"He's not messing with me," I mutter. "I think he just likes screwing with people." Stella raises an eyebrow. "Yeah. He has that look. Pretty-boy narcissist with a god complex."I give a weak laugh. Stella grins. "Don't worry. Guys like that usually trip over their own ego eventually. Until then, just ignore him. He's not worth the mental stress."

I nod, feeling something I haven't felt in weeks. Relief. Maybe even hope. We finish lunch without incident. And for the first time since moving to New York, I feel like I can breathe. The bell rings and we both stand. "Hey," Stella says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You ever need someone to walk home with, just let me know."

I smile, it's small but real. "Thanks." Stella disappears into the crowd. I turn for the hallway and stop. Xavier is leaning against the lockers just outside the cafeteria doors, arms folded, watching me. His expression is unreadable. Then he tilts his head, just slightly. And mouths something. At first, I think I'm imagining it. But no, his lips move again.

"You talk too much." I freeze, heart clenching. Before I can react, he turns and walks away, disappearing down the hall like he hasn't just said something meant to rattle my soul. I stand there, surrounded by noise, but suddenly, all I can hear is that single sentence, echoing in my head.