My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 108

Chapter 108 Taking Off His Armor

The mechanical click echoed in the quiet room. I cranked the film advance lever.

I lowered the camera. “That is terrible.”

Ryder frowned. “I am standing here.”

“You are hiding,” I corrected. “You look like a criminal in a police lineup. This project requires the truth. You are giving me a

performance.”

“Turn your head toward the window,” I instructed.

He shifted his stance. The weak light caught the silver chain resting against his collarbone. I adjusted the aperture ring on the lens. I

needed a shallow depth of field. I needed the rusted iron beams and the dead vines to blur into a soft, chaotic background. I needed him

to be the only sharp, defined object in the frame.

I snapped a third photo. The film advance lever offered a satisfying resistance under my thumb.

“You are treating this like a hostage situation,’ I noted. I lowered the camera to my chest. ‘Your jaw is clenched tight. I see the muscle

jumping.

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You look terrified.”

Ryder let out a bitter scoff. “I am not terrified of a camera.”

“You are terrified of being seen. You spend your entire life making sure people look at the leather jacket and the bruises. You want them

to fear you. Fear is safe. If they fear you, they do not ask questions. They do not look closer.”

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I walked toward him. My loafers kicked up small clouds of dust. I stopped inches from his chest. The familiar heat radiating from his body

washed over the chill in my bones. The scent of clean soap and worn leather filled my lungs. I reached out. I grabbed the thick lapels of

his jacket.

He went rigid. His breath hitched in his throat. His chest expanded against my knuckles.

“Take it off, I commanded.

He stared down at me. The golden shards in his hazel eyes burned with a fierce, restrained heat. He did not argue. He shrugged off the

heavy leather garment. He tossed it onto a nearby rusted metal chair.

He wore a plain gray t-shirt. The thin cotton clung to the corded muscles of his chest and shoulders.

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13:10 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 108 Taking Off His Armor

“Uncross your arms, I instructed.

He dropped his arms to his sides. He looked vulnerable. The physical shield was gone, but the emotional wall remained intact.

I stepped back. I raised the camera to my eye.

“Look at the lens,” I said.

He looked at the glass. His expression remained a blank, empty vault. The tension corded the muscles in his neck. He anticipated an

attack. He braced himself for a blow.

:))

I snapped another photo. I cranked the lever.

“Ryder, stop fighting me. Stop performing for your father’s ghost. Stop performing for the school.”

“I don’t know how to drop it,” he rasped. His voice sounded raw, scraping against the silent walls of the greenhouse. The armor keeps me

breathing.”

“You dropped it on my front porch.

The instruction hit the center of the target.

A raw, jagged emotion flashed across his features. The mention of Saturday night shattered his composure. The memory of the denied kiss tore a hole straight through his defensive walls.

I watched the transformation through the small glass square. The barrier of the camera granted me a private, uninterrupted view of his soul. The lens acted as a safe distance. It allowed him to feel without the immediate threat of my physical touch.

He let the bone-deep exhaustion bleed into his posture. His broad shoulders slumped. The rigid tension drained from his neck. The haunted, profound grief for his brother surfaced, darkening the golden hues in his eyes to a deep, endless brown.

He looked tired. He looked like a boy carrying the weight of a shattered world on his back. He looked like a boy who believed he destroyed

everything he touched.

I held my breath. My finger hovered over the metal shutter button.

The clouds outside shifted. A single beam of late afternoon sunlight pierced the dirty glass roof. It hit his face, highlighting the sharp slope of his cheekbones and the fading yellow bruises on his jaw. The light caught the bleeding devotion in his stare.

He was not looking at the lens anymore. He was looking at the girl behind it.

The depth of his affection lay bare in the quiet, overgrown room. He offered no smirk. He offered no threat. He offered a silent, desperate

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