My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 16

Chapter 16 We Walked In Together

Ryder’s matte-black muscle car turned onto my street. It crawled down the residential road, a dark, predatory shape contrasting harshly

against the neat lawns and sensible sedans of my neighborhood. He didn’t pull into the driveway. He let the car idle at the curb, the

engine purring with a deep, uneven growl.

81

I swallowed hard, the dry knot in my throat refusing to budge. I walked toward the passenger side, my heavy backpack thumping against

my spine.

I pulled the heavy door open and slid into the low seat. The blast of heat from the vents hit my freezing face, carrying that now-familiar scent of worn leather and peppermint.

Ryder didn’t look at me right away. He was staring straight ahead through the windshield. He wore his standard black t-shirt under the heavy leather jacket, ignoring the school’s dress code entirely. The bruise on his cheek was a harsh, mottled yellow today, the split in his lip still scabbed over.

“Morning,” I rasped, pulling the door shut with a solid clunk.

He shifted the car into drive. “Put your seatbelt on, Petrova.”

That was it. No reassurance. No asking if I was ready to throw my entire social existence into a woodchipper. I dragged the coarse nylon belt across my chest and clicked it into place.

The drive to Crestview was agonizingly quiet. The heater fan whirred steadily, doing nothing to warm the ice sitting heavy in my stomach. I stared out the window as the scenery shifted. Chain-link fences and tiny ranch houses morphed into towering oak trees, wrought-iron gates, and sprawling brick estates. We were crossing the invisible border into the Crestview tax bracket.

My knee started to bounce. A rapid, uncontrollable tremor.

“Stop moving,” Ryder said flatly. His eyes remained locked on the road, his large hands resting casually on the steering wheel.

‘I can’t,” I whispered, pressing my palms down flat against my kneecaps to force my legs still. “Mrs. Gable is going to be watching the front doors. Harper and Chloe always hang out by the main trophy case before first period. If we mess this up, if it looks forced-”

“It won’t.’

“You don’t know that,” I argued, my voice tight and breathless. “I’m not an actress. I’ve spent three years making sure people don’t look at me. Now we’re going to walk right through the front entrance and demand their attention. I don’t know how to do that.”

Ryder finally turned his head. The car idled at a red light just a mile from the campus gates. His hazel eyes swept over my rigid posture, taking in my white-knuckled grip on my own legs and the shallow, rapid rise and fall of my chest.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he told me, his rough voice cutting through the panic buzzing in my ears. “You just walk. I handle the rest. Understand?”

1/3

12:38 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 16 We Walked In Together

I gave a short, jerky nod. The light turned green. The car surged forward.

We turned onto the long, tree-lined driveway of Crestview Preparatory Academy. The sprawling brick buildings looked like a medieval

fortress sitting on top of a perfectly manicured hill. The student parking lot was already packed with shining BMWs, Range Rovers, and

sleek sports cars.

Ryder didn’t head for the visitor slots or the overflow lot. He drove straight toward the senior section, ignoring the painted white lines,

and parked his battered car diagonally across two empty spots near the edge of the grass.

He killed the engine. The sudden silence in the cabin was deafening.

Outside the tinted windows, students were milling around the courtyard, adjusting backpacks and sipping iced coffees. A few heads had

already turned toward the loud exhaust of Ryder’s car.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped, frantic bird. I grabbed the handle of the door, but my fingers were stiff and clumsy.

“Wait.”

Ryder’s voice was low. I froze, turning my head to look at him.

He reached across the center console. I stopped breathing as his hand closed over my shoulder. His grip was firm, his thumb pressing

through the wool of my blazer to ground against my collarbone. The sheer heat of him seeped through the layers of my uniform.

“Breathe, Raisa,” he commanded softly.

It was the first time he had used my first name. Not Petrova. Not the honors student. Just Raisa.

81

The gravelly texture of his voice sent a shock of heat straight down my spine. I forced my lungs to expand, drawing in a shaky breath that

smelled like peppermint and danger.

“When we step out of this car,” he said, his eyes darkening to a deep, mossy green, “you aren’t the scholarship kid terrified of the board.

You’re the girl who chose me over every other guy in this school. Walk like it.”

He let go of my shoulder, pushed his door open, and stepped out into the cold morning air.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I grabbed my backpack, pushed my door open, and forced my feet onto the asphalt.

The wind bit at my bare legs. I slung my backpack over my right shoulder and walked around the hood of the car. Ryder was waiting for

1. He stood tall, broad, and imposing, an immovable object right in the middle of the Crestview parking lot.

A group of sophomore girls walking past the cars slowed down, their eyes darting nervously toward Ryder, completely ignoring me. They

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify