My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 137

My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy

Chapter 137 Mom Zips Up The Dress

The small clock on my bedroom wall ticked with a steady, relentless rhythm. Six in the evening. Friday.

The Crestview Formal started in exactly one hour.

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My mother stood behind me in the cramped space. She wore a simple gray sweater and faded denim jeans. She requested the evening shift

off from the diner. She sacrificed a full day of wages and tips to stand in my bedroom and help me prepare. Her hands bore the harsh

evidence of her labor. The skin felt rough and dry from years of plunging heavy plates into scalding, soapy water. Yet, her touch felt light

as she gathered my dark hair.

She twisted the long strands into a neat, elegant knot at the base of my neck. She secured the style with sharp silver pins. She worked

with practiced focus, her eyes fixed on the task.

“Hold still, Raisa, my mother instructed. Her voice broke the heavy silence in the room. “You are shaking.”

“I cannot help it, I admitted. I kept my gaze fixed on the floorboards. “My nerves are a wreck.”

“Take a deep breath. She pushed the final silver pin into place. “Look at yourself.”

I raised my head. I looked at our reflection in the narrow mirror mounted on the closet door. My stomach tied itself into tight, painful knots. The nerves hummed through my veins, vibrating with a frantic energy.

The matte black box sat open on my unmade mattress. The pristine white tissue paper lay pushed aside, resembling a discarded cloud.

I turned away from the mirror. I walked to the edge of the bed. I reached out and grazed my fingertips over the midnight blue silk. The fabric felt like a pool of cold water against my warm skin. The material possessed a heavy, expensive weight. It demanded respect. It

commanded attention.

“He possesses incredible taste, my mother noted. She watched my profile from the corner of the room. “I never expected a delivery like

that.”

“Neither did I, I whispered.

“You told me he bought it to secure your image,” she continued. She crossed her arms over her gray sweater. “You told me he needed a unified front to impress the school administration and keep his record clean.

“That is the truth,” I replied. I kept my eyes on the dark silk.

“You are a terrible liar, Raisa,’ she stated.

I froze. My fingers stopped tracing the beaded neckline. I turned to face her. “What do you mean?”

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Chapter 137 Mom Zips Up The Dress

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My mother offered a soft, knowing smile. “I mean I sat across from that boy at our kitchen table. I watched him eat cherry tarts. I watched him defend your medical ambitions. The school administration did not sit in our house. Ryder Steinmann does not spend thousands of

dollars on custom silk just to impress a principal.”

“We have an arrangement, Mom, I argued. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. I wanted to protect her from the chaotic reality of my high

school life. “It is complicated.”

“It is not complicated at all.” She took a step toward me. “Contracts do not buy midnight silk. Contracts do not cause a young man’s hands to shake when he talks about your future. He sees you, Raisa. He sees the fire you carry. He bought this dress because he wants the rest of

the world to see it, too.”

I swallowed the heavy lump in my throat. I could not hide the truth from her. “I tried to give the dress back to him on Wednesday morning. I took the box to the school parking lot. I told him I refused to be his charity case.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What did he say?”

“He refused to take it, I confessed. The memory of the wet asphalt and his calloused hands wrapped around my wrists rushed back. “He told me he bought it because he watched me cry in a thrift store. He wanted to give me a shield.”

My mother let out a slow breath. “He gave you a sword, Raisa. Now put it on.”

I stepped out of my worn, everyday denim jeans. I pulled my faded cotton t-shirt over my head and tossed the garments onto my desk

chair.

I lifted the heavy silk gown from the cardboard box. I stepped into the midnight blue fabric. I pulled the dress up my body, letting the silk slide over my hips and ribs. My mother stepped forward. She grasped the small metal zipper at the base of my spine. She pulled the mechanism upward. The metal teeth locked together in a smooth, flawless glide.

I turned back to the narrow mirror.

The breath stalled in my chest.

The dress fit with terrifying precision. The structured bodice hugged my ribs, acting as a second skin. The tiny, dark beads lining the sweetheart neckline caught the weak yellow light from the overhead bulb. They shimmered and flashed like scattered, distant stars. The heavy silk skirt cascaded to the floor, pooling around my feet in a dark, liquid wave. The rich midnight color contrasted with my pale skin, making my features look sharp and defined. My dark eyes looked wide and bright.

My mother placed her calloused hands on my bare shoulders. She met my gaze in the mirror glass. A fierce, unyielding pride shone in her

tired eyes.

“You hold your head high tonight,” she instructed. Her voice carried a firm, grounded strength. “You belong in that room. You earned your place with your mind and your hard work. Do not let those affluent children make you feel small. You are equal to every single person in

that building.

‘I will try, I promised.

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