My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 141

Chapter 141 Dancing In The Dead Center

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The DJ changed the tempo. A soft, melodic piano intro echoed from the towering black speakers. The overhead lights dimmed. The crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow across the varnished wood.

Couples began to step onto the floor. They paired up, their silhouettes moving into the light.

Ryder turned his head. His hazel eyes caught the golden chandelier light. “Dance with me,” he said.

His voice lacked the rough, scraping edge. It carried a thick, desperate plea.

I nodded. “Yes.”

He guided me forward. His right hand rested against my lower back. The heat of his palm burned through the midnight blue silk. We bypassed the outer edges of the crowd. We walked to the exact center of the gymnasium. The surrounding students retreated, giving us a massive circle of empty wood. They watched us. I ignored them. I focused on the boy in the tailored black tuxedo.

Ryder stopped. He turned to face me. He placed his right hand on my waist. His fingers splayed across my ribs. He reached for my right hand with his left. He intertwined our fingers. The physical contact sent a shockwave of electricity straight down my spine.

He guided my steps. He moved with a practiced, fluid grace. The Crestview delinquent knew traditional ballroom form. I tried to follow his lead. I focused my eyes on his polished black dress shoes, desperate to avoid a misstep. I did not want to crush his toes.

“Look at me, Raisa,” he commanded.

I lifted my chin. I met his stare. The intense, golden fire in his eyes stole the breath from my lungs.

“I lack the practice,” I admitted. The confession felt small in the massive room. “My mother and I dance in our kitchen on Friday nights. We lack the space for a proper waltz.”

“You follow my lead with perfect precision, he stated. “You adapt to the storm.”

We moved in a slow, hypnotic circle. The music swelled around us. The other students blurred into streaks of pale pink, stark white, and dark blue. The crystal chandeliers spun above our heads, a dizzying canopy of light.

“Trent Lawson looked terrified by the entrance,” I told him.

Ryder tightened his grip on my hand. A dark, territorial shadow crossed his sharp features. He understands the new rules. The entire student body understands the new hierarchy. You are untouchable. They know I possess the power to ruin anyone who disrespects your

name.”

‘You do not need to fight battles for me, I said. “I own my own armor.”

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Chapter 141 Dancing In The Dead Center

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“I want to fight your battles. The rough gravel returned to his tone, carrying a heavy, undeniable truth. ‘I spent years destroying things. I

broke rules. I shattered expectations. I earned the monstrous reputation to keep people away. Tonight, I build something. I build a fortress

around you.”

I stared at his sharp jawline. The fading yellow bruise was gone. His skin looked clear and flawless. He stripped away the delinquent mask

in front of the cameras. He showed the world the real boy hiding underneath the scuffed leather jacket.

He pulled my body against his. The remaining distance between our chests vanished. The silk of my dress rubbed against the wool of his trousers. My pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. He let go of my right hand. He wrapped both of his arms around my waist. He anchored my body against his solid frame.

I moved my hands up. I rested my palms flat against the crisp white cotton of his dress shirt. I felt the frantic, heavy beat of his heart against my fingertips. His pulse raced. The invincible billionaire heir harbored the same terrified nerves as the scholarship student. We shared the same fear. We shared the same chaotic, consuming devotion.

‘I felt sick this evening, I confessed. I poured my insecurities into the narrow space between our mouths. I paced the living room rug. I thought I would trip on the silk hem. I thought I would humiliate you in front of the local photographers. Harper Vance warned me about

the Sunday society pages.”

Ryder stopped swaying for a fraction of a second. The confession struck a deep nerve. His jaw clenched. He resumed the dance, his movements rigid with sudden anger.

“Harper Vance is a parasite,” he growled. “She feeds on insecurities. If she speaks to you again, I will have her father’s company audited. You could wear a cheap cotton t-shirt and command this room. The midnight silk is a masterpiece, but the fire inside your chest makes you a force of nature. I saw the fire freshman year. I watched you speak in front of the English class. I watched you refuse to yield to the laughter. I fell for the fire.”

My eyes burned. A hot sting threatened to break my composure. I stopped the tears. I refused to cry in the middle of the Crestview gymnasium. I slid my hands up his broad chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I tangled my fingers in the dark hair at the nape of

his neck.

He inhaled a sharp, ragged breath. His grip on my waist turned possessive. His large hands pressed into my lower back, leaving a permanent brand on my soul.

We moved to the rhythm of the piano chords. The scent of worn leather, cedar wood, and his expensive cologne filled my senses, blocking out the smell of the floral archways.

The world outside our embrace ceased to exist.

The gymnasium disappeared. The crowd of affluent teenagers vanished from my peripheral vision. The towering crystal chandeliers faded into a dark, meaningless void.

I existed in a universe built for two people.

His hazel eyes searched my face. He cataloged every detail. He looked at my dark hair. He looked at my cheekbones. He dropped his gaze

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13:49 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 141 Dancing In The Dead Center

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