My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 150

Chapter 150 Holding Hands At The Diner

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The faded neon sign buzzed above the diner entrance. I pushed the heavy glass door open. A small brass bell chimed, announcing my arrival. The scent of roasted coffee beans, melted butter, and fried bacon washed over me. The chaotic morning rush was ending. A few tired regulars sat at the laminated counter, hunched over their ceramic plates.

I scanned the narrow room.

Ryder sat in the back corner booth. The morning sun streamed through the large window, casting a warm glow over his broad shoulders. He wore a faded black t-shirt. The dark cotton stretched across his chest, highlighting the rigid lines of his muscles. His dark hair looked chaotic, free of the styling products he used for the formal. He rested his forearms on the red vinyl table. He watched the entrance. His hazel eyes locked onto mine the second I stepped inside.

The breath stalled in my lungs.

He did not look like the Crestview delinquent. He did not look like the untouchable billionaire heir. He looked like a boy waiting for a girl. The intense, untamed storm in his eyes shifted into a deep, raw devotion.

I walked down the narrow aisle. My canvas backpack felt heavy against my shoulder. I reached the corner booth and slid onto the red vinyl seat opposite him.

“You came,” Ryder said. His voice carried a rough, scraping gravel.

“I received your text,” I replied. I placed my bag on the seat beside me.

“I thought you might ignore it.” He traced a scratch in the laminated table with his thumb. “I thought the morning light might change your mind. I thought you would regret the balcony.”

“I do not possess a single regret,’ I stated. I met his stare. I refused to let the fear dictate my actions. “I meant every word I said in the dark. The distance is gone. The fake arrangement is dead.”

A visible wave of relief washed over his sharp features. The rigid tension in his jaw relaxed. He reached across the table. He rested his large, calloused hand on the center of the red vinyl. He left his palm open. He offered an invitation.

I lifted my hand. I placed my fingers in his palm.

His grip tightened, anchoring my racing pulse. The heat from his skin burned a familiar, thrilling path up my arm. The simple physical contact felt profound. We did not hold hands to sell a lie to a passing cheerleader. We did not touch to appease a suspicious principal. We touched because the space between us felt wrong.

My mother walked up to the booth. She carried a steaming glass pot of dark coffee. She wore her faded blue uniform and a white apron.

She stopped at the edge of the table. She looked at our joined hands. She did not frown. She offered a small, knowing smile.

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Chapter 150 Holding Hands At The Diner

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“Good morning, Ryder, my mother said. She flipped two heavy ceramic mugs upright and filled them with the hot liquid. “I put an order of cherry tarts in the oven for you. They need ten more minutes.”

Thank you, Mrs. Petrova, Ryder replied. He offered her a genuine, polite nod.

“Take your time, she told us. She walked back toward the kitchen, leaving us in the sunlit corner.

I looked back at the boy sitting across from me. My chest felt tight. A massive, overwhelming wave of emotion crashed against my ribs. I spent four years hiding in the library. I spent four years surviving the harsh, cruel environment of Crestview Prep by remaining invisible. I assumed love was a luxury reserved for the affluent elite. I assumed my future held nothing but medical textbooks and quiet, lonely

nights.

He changed the entire trajectory of my life. He proved my worth in front of the entire student body. He shattered his own defensive barriers to reach my heart.

The words rose in my throat. The three syllables felt heavy and raw. I needed to say them. I needed to hand him the final, vulnerable piece of my soul. I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted the morning sun to witness the confession.

“Raisa, Ryder spoke first. He interrupted my racing thoughts. “We need to talk about tomorrow. Monday.”

I swallowed the confession. Monday.”

“The school will react, he warned. He kept his eyes focused on my face. “They saw us on the dance floor. They saw the shift. Trent Lawson will test the new dynamic. Harper Vance will whisper. The administration will watch us.”

I am ready, I promised him. I wore the midnight silk. I can face Harper Vance.”

‘I know you can.” He squeezed my fingers. “But I want to make a plan. I want to spend the afternoon with you. Away from the B-wing. Away from the library. A real date. No textbooks. No biology index cards.”

A massive smile stretched across my mouth. “A real date.”

“Yes,” he confirmed. ‘I want to take you to the city art museum. The modern exhibit opened this weekend. You mentioned an interest in abstract expressionism during our chemistry lab three weeks ago.”

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm. He remembered a passing comment I made weeks ago while measuring a chemical solution. He logged my interests into his memory. He paid attention to the microscopic details of my life.

‘I would love to see the exhibit, I told him. “But I have midterms next week. I need to check my study schedule. I blocked out specific hours for calculus.”

Check the schedule, Ryder urged. “We will plan around the math.”

I let go of his hand. The absence of his heat left a cold void on my skin. I turned to my left. I grabbed the zipper of my heavy canvas

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Chapter 150 Holding Hands At The Diner

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