My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 117

Chapter 117 Pinning Him To The Lockers

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I sat in my assigned seat in AP European History. The heavy textbook lay open on my wooden desk. The pages displayed dense paragraphs about the French Revolution. The letters blurred together into meaningless black shapes. I gripped my pen. My knuckles turned stark

white against the plastic casing.

The red second hand on the wall clock moved with a slow, mocking sweep. Five minutes passed since the bell.

Ryder did not walk through the classroom door.

The empty desk in the back corner felt like a gaping hole in the room. His absence amplified the pounding rhythm in my chest. I knew exactly where he went. He roamed the halls. He possessed a list of suspects. He hunted the author of the cream-colored note.

My mind spun in a chaotic loop. The revelation in the library stripped away my final layer of defense. He did not hunt the secret admirer to protect a fake public image. He did not care about the rumors. He hunted the boy because he felt genuine, consuming jealousy. The fake boyfriend possessed a real, beating heart, and that heart carried a dark, territorial claim over me.

I needed to find him. I needed to stop the impending disaster. If he found the author, he would tear the boy apart. A fight meant a suspension. A suspension meant the administration possessed the excuse they needed to expel him. He promised my mother he would clear my path. He promised he would not become a liability. The blind rage threatened to destroy his promise.

Mr. Harrison turned his back to write a date on the whiteboard.

I stood up from my desk. The wooden chair scraped the linoleum. The sound drew the eyes of the students in my row. I ignored their stares. I grabbed my hall pass lanyard from the edge of my desk.

“I need to use the restroom, I announced. My voice sounded thin and strained.

Mr. Harrison offered a brief nod without turning around.

I walked out of the classroom. The heavy wooden door clicked shut, sealing the academic quiet behind me.

I broke into a run.

My scuffed loafers slapped the polished floor. The empty A-wing corridor stretched out like a sterile, beige tunnel. My canvas backpack hit my hip with a heavy, rhythmic thud. I navigated the turns on pure instinct. I headed straight for the science wing.

Ryder pointed to the chemistry tables in the library. He narrowed his focus to the boys who sat in my line of sight.

I turned the corner into the C-wing. The scent of floor wax and faint formaldehyde stung my nose.

A crowd of students blocked the hallway near the double doors of the main chemistry lab. They formed a tight, silent ring. No one spoke. No one laughed. The usual chaotic chatter of a high school gathering vanished. A heavy, suffocating dread permeated the air.

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Chapter 117 Pinning Him To The Lockers

I pushed my way through the outer edge of the circle. Shoulders bumped against my ribs. I shoved past a group of sophomore girls.

I reached the front row.

Ryder stood in the center of the ring. He wore his dark gray henley shirt. His broad shoulders blocked the fluorescent light. The muscles

in his back stretched rigid and tight beneath the cotton fabric.

He pinned a boy against the beige metal lockers.

I recognized the boy in a fraction of a heartbeat. Julian Hayes. He was my assigned lab partner from the beginning of the semester. He possessed neat blonde hair and wore a pristine pastel blue sweater over a collared shirt. He was the preppy, smiling guy who offered me his notes and flirted with me over bunsen burners. He was the boy Ryder glared at from the doorway of the lab weeks ago.

Julian pressed his spine flat against the cold metal. His face lacked all color. His eyes darted around the circle of staring students, searching for a teacher, searching for a rescue.

Ryder trapped him. He planted his left hand on the locker door beside Julian’s head. He used his height and massive frame to cage the smaller boy in. He did not throw a punch. He did not grab Julian by the collar. He utilized a terrifying, cold intimidation.

Ryder held the crumpled cream paper in his right hand.

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