invisible to irresistible

Chapter 2: KISS OR CRUELTY

The moment felt like it might snap—thin and trembling, stretched to the breaking point.

Floyd leaned in. He was so close Bee could feel her heart tripping all over itself. Inside, she was caught somewhere between stillness and noise, everything frozen and deafening. This was it. The moment she’d pictured a thousand times with a hundred different happy endings, always gentle and kind.

Then, the whispers began.

At first, it was just a murmur. Then sharper—voices biting through that fragile silence.

“Is he seriously about to do it?”

“No way…”

“With her?”

A laugh burst out somewhere in the room and caught like a spark on dry brush. Others joined in. It spread fast.

Floyd stalled.

Bee could feel him shift—just slightly, just enough. That sudden, awkward doubt.

He pulled back an inch, scratched his cheek. He looked uncertain, then tried on a laugh, tinny and fake, meant to make everything seem cool and harmless.

“Nah,” he said, with a shrug like he couldn’t care less. “I’d rather drink than kiss… that weirdo.”

The room exploded.

Laughter slammed into her, bright and merciless. Some people clapped, a few leaned together, whispering. Every sound felt like a pinprick, stinging against Bee’s skin.

Before she could even take a breath, Floyd grabbed the bottle, took a swallow, and turned to Eva, who was already smirking in that I-knew-it way.

He didn’t wait. Just leaned in and kissed her.

The cheering got even bigger.

Eva pulled back and her smile looked downright smug. “I liked that,” she said, barely holding back a laugh. Then she tilted her head toward Bee. “For a second I thought you were really gonna kiss that ugly weirdo. You seemed so into her.” She let out a light, syrupy giggle. “Guess you proved me wrong.”

Bee’s chest squeezed tight.

It was like the room shrank around her—the walls inching in, and the air turning thick, nearly too much to swallow.

She tried to smile.

It didn’t fit her face.

“I—I need the bathroom,” she choked out, so soft she doubted anyone heard. Not that anyone cared. They were busy laughing, busy letting the moment replay, busy living inside the scene that had just cracked her in half.

She stood too fast. Her legs wobbled, but she pushed through the mess of bodies, out past the noise. The music rattled in her head, distant and warped, like it belonged in someone else’s life.

When she finally made it to the door, her eyes were already full of tears.

She just kept moving.

The air outside slapped against her face, cold and sharp, but it barely registered. Nothing helped.

She ran.

And someone called after her.

“Bee! Bee, wait!”

Mia.

Of course it was Mia.

Bee didn’t slow down. She felt like if she even looked over her shoulder, she’d just break apart.

“Bee, please!” Mia’s footsteps hurried after her.

Bee spun around, gasping, chest heaving. Her hands shook. “What happened to a small get-together?” Her voice was ragged. “I told you I didn’t want this. I told you!”

Mia shrank, her confidence missing. “I didn’t think it would—”

“But you never do!” Bee shouted, the tears streaming down. “Everything’s about you. I get dragged in, and now it’s me standing there, humiliated. Not you. Me!”

Mia flinched.

“Do you get it?” Bee kept going, her words piling on each other. “That was someone I’ve liked for years. Years, Mia! Now—now I’m just a joke. The ugly weirdo at your party.”

She could barely breathe.

“And Eva’s going to make sure everyone hears,” she whispered, panicking fast and desperate. “Everyone’s going to know. I can’t—I can’t do this. I think I’m—” She clawed at her chest, gasping. “I can’t breathe.”

Mia reached for her. “Bee, please, just calm down—”

“Don’t touch me!” Bee jerked back. “I can’t stay. I can’t.”

And she turned. She was gone again.

—

Floyd had followed.

He didn’t remember deciding. He’d just found himself outside—the noise from the party fading, Eva’s hand still warm on his arm.

He stayed back.

Far enough that Bee wouldn’t spot him. Not so far he’d lose sight of her.

Each step felt harder than the last.

Because the truth? He’d wanted to kiss her. Not just because of the dare. Always. Since the beginning.

Something about Bee always pulled at him quietly, steady as a tide. The way she’d tuck her hair when she was nervous. How her voice dropped, almost apologetic, like she didn’t think she deserved to be heard. Even when she stumbled through those awkward “hi” moments, she tried.

He remembered every time he pretended not to notice.

He cared. That was the problem.

But he’d heard the talk. Seen the looks people gave Bee—anyone who didn’t fit the stupid mold.

He was too much of a coward.

All he ever did was worry about what his friends would think. About his image. What would they say if Floyd Carter was caught liking “the weird girl?”

So he held it all in—every glance, every feeling, every single maybe.

Tonight was supposed to be an out.

A dare, some silly game. Something he could blame when people asked questions.

He had leaned in, ready to finally do what he always wanted.

Then came the laughter.

And fear won out—again.

So he stopped. Said words that made him sick the instant they left his mouth.

“I’d rather drink than kiss that weirdo.”

Now, out in the cold, listening as Bee’s world crashed down, he felt worse than ever.

He lingered near the door, arms crossed tight, staring at his feet, wishing he could disappear. He heard every word from Bee, all of them loaded with hurt.

He wanted to go to her.

He wanted to say everything he’d choked down for so long. That he didn’t mean it. That he was terrified. That he—

A tear rolled down his cheek.

He moved.

Stopped.

Someone approached.

Eva.

She tucked her arm into his, smiling that perfect, fake smile. “There you are. Why’d you wander off?”

Floyd said nothing.

She tugged his arm. “C’mon, party’s still going.”

He glanced at Bee—just for a moment.

Bee turned toward the door then, tears streaming, some wild hope in her eyes, wishing maybe—just once—he’d look at her. Notice her. But the moment passed, slipping away.

Their eyes never met.

But it felt like something had happened anyway.

Eva saw where he looked and grinned. Then she turned, gave Bee a final look—almost gloating—and dragged Floyd away.

He didn’t fight it.

Not this time.

—

Bee headed for home, not stopping for anything.

She barely made it through the front door before falling into her mother’s arms.

Her voice broke as she tried to explain, spilling the whole awful story in pieces, interrupted by gasps and sobbing. Her mom just held her, rubbing her back, whispering that she was safe now, that it would be okay.

“Honey, you’re home. Nothing can hurt you here.”

Bee just shook her head, clutching her mom like she was the only thing keeping her from disappearing. “I can’t go back,” she cried. “I can’t face them. Everybody will know.”

Her mom brushed away her tears. “Then you won’t,” she said, steady as anything. “It’s done. We’ll figure something else out.”

Bee stared at her through blurry eyes.

“I’ll homeschool you,” her mom said, voice soft and clear. “At least until this term is over. You need space. You need to breathe.”

Bee didn’t argue.

She just nodded, completely spent and empty in a way that words couldn’t touch.

The night out there was silent, uncaring.

And somewhere, down the street, Floyd walked off beside Eva, carrying a heavy, hurting silence bigger than anything he’d ever had the courage to say.