My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 133

My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy

Chapter 133 Crying In The Fitting Room

The cafeteria confession shifted the entire axis of Crestview Prep.

:))

The whispers followed me down the B-wing. The stares burned into my spine between passing periods. The student body possessed a new, terrifying obsession. The fake dating rumors died the second Ryder dropped the silver VIP tickets onto my biology textbook. Trent Lawson

kept his mouth shut in the hallways.

Ryder dismantled the social hierarchy in three minutes. He claimed me in front of the entire school, but his grand gesture created a

massive, unforeseen problem.

I stood at locker 412 on Tuesday morning. I arranged my textbooks on the top shelf. Footsteps approached my space. They clicked against

the linoleum with a sharp, expensive sound.

Harper Vance stopped beside me. She wore a pristine, cream-colored blazer and matching leather heels. She did not sneer. She crossed her arms over her chest, her posture defensive and rigid.

“Petrova, Harper said. Her voice lacked its usual sharp edge.

I closed my metal door. The latch engaged with a loud clang. “What do you want, Harper?”

“The Formal,” she started. She looked down the corridor, checking for an audience. He bought the VIP tickets. The whole school saw the display. But they expect you to look the part. You represent the Steinmann name now.”

“My plans are my own,” I stated.

Harper let out a frustrated breath. “If you wear cheap clothes, they will tear you apart. They will mock him for bringing you. The local society photographers cover the arrivals. They print the pictures in the Sunday paper for the entire city to see. I am warning you.”

“Why do you care?” I asked. I gripped the strap of my canvas bag.

“I do not care about you, Harper replied. “But Ryder is one of us. He belongs to Crestview. If you embarrass him in front of the cameras, you embarrass the entire senior class.”

She turned on her expensive heels and walked away.

My lungs tightened. The Crestview Formal demanded a specific type of armor. The affluent girls spent months preparing for the event. They booked appointments at exclusive boutiques in the city. They ordered imported silk gowns from European designers. They treated the dance floor like a high-stakes fashion runway. They wore garments that cost more than my mother earned in six months at the diner.

Wednesday morning arrived. The kitchen smelled of burnt toast and cheap coffee. My mother stood at the counter in her faded blue diner

uniform.

“You look exhausted, Raisa,” my mother said. She handed me a ceramic mug.

1/4

76

13:13 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 133 Crying In The Fitting Room

We have midterm exams next week, I replied. I took a sip of the bitter liquid.

The school sent an automated email yesterday, the continued. She wiped the chipped formica counter with a damp cloth. They

announced the Spring Formal. Are you planning to go?

I traced the rim of the mug with my thumb. I do not think so

My mother stopped wiping She turned to face me Why not? You work all the time You spend your weekends buried in biology

textbooks. You need a break

The tickets cost two hundred dollars each A dress costs more

Ryder bought the tickets, she pointed out. He made it clear he wants to take you

I still need a dress

My mother sighed. The sound carried years of heavy fatigue can take three ritta shifts next week I can ask the manage for an

advance on my paycheck

គ

No, I said My voice held a firm, unyielding tone You stand on your feet for twelve hours a day I refuse to let you work more thafts lice a piece of fabric I do not care about a high school dance

It was a massive lie I wanted to stand beside him But I chose het health over my pride

I want you to experience normal teenage things. Raisa, she whispered

My life is fine, I promised her

Wednesday afternoon arrived with a biting chill. The gray clouds hung low over the neighborhood I stepped off the city transit bus and walked the three blocks to my house I bypassed my front door and kept walking down the cracked concrete sidewalk.

I headed for the commercial district on the edge of the East Side

A small thrift store sat wedged between a failing laundromat and a boarded-up convenience store. The faded plastic sign above the door read Second Chance Apparel The lights in the display window flickered with a defective hum

I pushed the glass door open A small brass bell singled overhead

Welcome to Second Chance 8 raspy voice called out

wall set behind the cash register She wore thick, wire rimmed glasses and a heavy knit cardigan. She lowered her worn

g and peered at the

Fegegne the strap of my canvas backpack The au felt heavy it smelled of stale mothballs, old perfume, and damp

76

13:13 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 133 Crying In The Fitting Room

wool.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify