My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 112

Chapter 112 Falling For My Fake Boyfriend

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His lips hovered a fraction of a breath away from mine.

The heat of his skin radiated against my chilled cheeks. The scent of cedar and dark coffee flooded my senses. The aroma clouded every

rational thought I possessed.

I looked into his hazel eyes. The gold flecks burned in the red safelight. He offered me the choice. He placed the loaded weapon in my hands. If I leaned forward, the fake dating contract shattered. The safety net vanished. We would step into a reality where heartbreak

carried permanent consequences.

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My pulse drummed a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I felt the erratic, heavy thud of his heart against my own chest.

I thought of my mother.

Ryder Steinmann was a distraction. If I gave him my heart, I surrendered my control.

The sheer feeling terrified me.

I could not breathe. The cramped dimensions of the darkroom shrank. The concrete walls closed in. The humming ventilation fan sounded

like a deafening roar.

‘I can’t, I gasped.

Ryder froze. The burning heat in his eyes flickered. The fierce hunger morphed into sudden, sharp pain. He heard the panic in my voice.

He stepped back.

The loss of his body heat hit me like a splash of ice water. He dropped my wrist. He moved his arm, clearing the path.

He locked his jaw. He stared at the concrete floor. He rebuilt his walls in a single heartbeat.

I did not stay to correct him. My survival instincts engaged. Flight overpowered fight.

I pushed off the edge of the dry counter. My hands shook. I grabbed my navy school blazer from the plastic hook. I snatched my canvas backpack from the wooden surface.

I crossed the small room. I reached the thick, black revolving door.

I pushed the curved wall. I stepped into the cylinder.

I burst through the double doors of the classroom. The quiet, empty basement corridor stretched out before me. The beige lockers lined the walls, standing like silent sentinels.

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13:10 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 112 Falling For My Fake Boyfriend

I ran.

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My scuffed loafers slapped against the polished floors. My breath hitched in my chest, burning my lungs. The canvas bag thumped against

my hip.

I reached the stairwell. I took the concrete steps two at a time. My legs burned with the effort. I reached the ground floor. I pushed through the heavy metal exit doors and stumbled out into the late afternoon air.

The overcast sky hung low. The damp April wind hit my flushed face. The sprawling campus of Crestview Prep looked deserted. The student body went home hours ago. The manicured lawns and towering brick buildings offered zero comfort. The affluent wealth of the

school felt hollow.

I walked toward the main gates. My pace slowed from a frantic sprint to a staggering walk. My knees felt weak. The adrenaline crash hit me in a massive, crushing wave. My vision blurred.

I stopped near a large, ancient oak tree near the edge of the property. I dropped my canvas bag onto the wet grass. I leaned my spine against the rough bark. The texture dug through my thin blouse. I pressed my hands to my face. My fingers trembled. My chest heaved with ragged, uneven breaths.

The cold wind bit through my clothes. I ignored the chill.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I tried to rebuild the logic walls. I tried to list the reasons why a relationship with the billionaire’s son was a terrible mistake. I listed the vicious rumors. I listed the threat of Marcus and the East Side warehouse. I listed the distraction from my academic focus. I listed the massive wealth gap between our families.

I recited the variables in my head. I demanded my brain restore order.

The list felt hollow. The reasons felt like cheap, flimsy excuses. The math failed to hold the weight of the reality.

I looked down at my hands. The skin felt dry, but the phantom weight of his fingers lingered. I remembered the accidental touch over the fixer tray. The jolt of electricity. The way his thumb stroked the erratic pulse on my wrist. I built my life on tangible, provable facts. The laws of physics. The rules of chemistry. A plus B equals C. But no textbook explained the magnetic pull between two people. No formula calculated the exact moment a fake smile turned into a genuine need.

Every logical argument melted against the memory of his actions.

I remembered the soft, reverent kiss he pressed to my forehead on the concrete porch. He denied his own hunger to protect my reputation. He treated me with a profound respect the boys of Crestview Prep lacked.

I remembered the raw, bleeding confession in the darkroom. The wet photographs hanging on the wire line proved his vulnerability. He dropped the bad boy armor. He let me see the grief, the guilt, and the terrifying hope buried in his chest.

My biggest fear is losing the one good thing I have. A hot tear slipped down my cheek. It burned against my cold skin. Another tear followed. A sob tore from my throat.

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Chapter 112 Falling For My Fake Boyfriend

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I tried to force the genie back into the bottle. I tried to tell myself I could walk into school tomorrow, apologize for the panic attack, and

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