Jessa

The lunchroom was buzzing louder than usual, but even through the chaotic din of voices and clattering trays, his voice cut through.

Noah Carter.

I froze halfway to setting my drink down, my gaze snapping toward the sound instinctively.

Sure enough, Noah was on his feet, leaning over the table where Jackson and the other football guys sat. His face was red, his hands clenched tight at his sides, his whole body practically vibrating with anger. I’d seen him fired up during ...