My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 135

Chapter 135 Giving The Dress Back

The matte black box sat on the center of my chipped kitchen table. I did not sleep. The digital clock on the stove flashed three in the morning, then four, then five. I stared at the dark cardboard. The midnight blue silk remained tucked beneath the layers of pristine white tissue paper. The fabric mocked my life savings. It mocked the crinkled dollar bills resting on my bedroom desk.

My mother arrived from the diner at two in the morning. I heard her tired footsteps echo in the narrow hallway. I shoved the massive package under my bed before she opened my bedroom door to check on me. I protected her from the truth. If she saw a custom silk gown in our small house, she would ask questions I could not answer. She would worry about my connection to the billionaire heir. I kept the

secret hidden in the dark.

I woke up before dawn. I pulled the box from the floorboards. I folded the heavy gown back into the white tissue paper. I tied the dark silver ribbon with strict, unforgiving precision.

The Crestview Formal was a battleground, and I refused to fight wearing purchased armor.

The box was too large for my canvas backpack. I carried it in my arms. I left the house and walked to the bus stop. The morning air carried a sharp, bitter chill. The city transit bus hit every pothole on the route. I rested my chin on the smooth cardboard lid. My pride burned a massive hole in my chest.

Ryder stood in the cafeteria yesterday. He declared his devotion. He told the school I was the center of his universe. He silenced the bullies with a terrifying display of force. But this dress felt like a massive step backward. It felt like a cold transaction. It felt like a billionaire throwing money at a problem he did not understand. I survived on my own merit. I refused to play the part of a charity case. I refused to let him dress me up for a public performance.

The bus lurched to a stop outside the iron gates of Crestview Prep.

I stepped onto the pavement. The A-wing doors hummed with the early morning crowd. Students rushed past me, eager to escape the cold air. I did not go inside the building. I bypassed the main entrance. I marched straight toward the South Lot.

The cracked asphalt stretched out, slick with morning dew. The sky hung low, painting the campus in dull gray tones. I scanned the rows of parked cars. I searched for the battered, dark blue Ford truck.

I spotted the vehicle parked near the chain-link fence.

Ryder sat on the lowered tailgate of the truck. He held a paper cup of dark coffee in his hands. He wore a faded gray t-shirt and his scuffed leather jacket. He watched the tree line. He heard my loafers slapping the wet pavement. He turned his head. His hazel eyes tracked my approach. He saw the massive black box anchored in my arms.

He set the coffee cup on the rusted metal bumper. He stood up.

I stopped two feet away from his broad chest. I shoved the box forward.

“Take it back, I demanded. My voice shook with exhaustion and defiance.

1/2

76

13:13 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 135 Giving The Dress Back

He did not raise his hands. He let the box hover in the empty space between us. He locked his jaw. The fading yellow bruise stood out

against his pale skin. He played dumb.

“Take what back, Raisa? Ryder asked. His tone remained flat.

76

“Do not lie to me, I countered. I pushed the cardboard closer to his chest. “A black town car dropped a custom silk dress at my house last night. A blank card. No return address. I know your methods. You bought the dark dahlias. You tracked down the first-edition book. You arranged this delivery. It matches your exact style. Take the box.

He crossed his arms over his leather jacket. He refused to touch the package.

“I am not taking it,” he stated.

I dropped the heavy cardboard onto the metal tailgate. The loud thud echoed across the empty parking lot.

“I am not a doll,” I told him. I stepped into his personal space. I poured my anger into the cold morning air. “I do not need you to dress me up so I fit in with Harper Vance and her friends. I do not need your bank account to survive this school. I survive on my own merit. I study until my eyes burn. I work for every single grade on my transcript. This dress is a handout. It makes me a charity case.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify