My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 175

Chapter 175 Trent Blocking The Main Hallway

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The atmosphere shifted the second my sneakers hit the ground. A group of juniors stood near a silver sports car. They stopped their

conversation mid-sentence. They turned their heads and stared. A girl with a blonde ponytail pointed a manicured finger in my direction.

She leaned over and whispered a cruel joke to her friend. A sharp laugh drifted across the cold morning air.

Ryder walked around the hood of his truck. He stopped at my side. He did not walk a step ahead of me. He did not walk behind me. He

stood shoulder to shoulder with me, presenting an unbroken, united front to the hostile crowd.

“Keep your eyes on the front doors,” he instructed.

We walked toward the massive brick building. Every step felt like wading through thick, freezing mud. The tension in the air felt heavy,

pressing against my eardrums.

Students lined the concrete steps. They parted in a wide circle as we approached, but they did not offer the silent respect of the winter formal. They offered pure, unfiltered venom. The respect died the second Chloe leaked the college-ruled paper.

“How much did he pay you?” a boy called out from the edge of the stairs.

Ryder stopped. He turned his head and locked his hazel eyes on the speaker. The dark, terrifying monster narrative flared in his stare. The boy took a step back, intimidated by the sheer physical threat radiating from Ryder’s massive frame.

“Ignore them,” I said. I tugged his leather sleeve. “They want a reaction. Do not give them a reason to add to the disciplinary file.”

Ryder locked his jaw. We resumed our climb.

We reached the top of the concrete stairs. I reached out and grabbed the brass handle of the heavy double doors. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp spring air. I pulled the door open.

We stepped into the main corridor.

The chaotic noise of the morning rush hour died a sudden death. The silence rippled down the long hallway, bouncing off the metal lockers and the polished linoleum floor. Hundreds of affluent teenagers stopped in their tracks.

Then, the whispers began.

The sound resembled a swarm of angry hornets. The hostile buzz filled the enclosed space. The Crestview elite pulled their sleek smartphones from their uniform pockets. They held the glowing screens up, displaying the high-resolution photograph of the fake dating contract. The blue ink signatures flashed like neon signs in the harsh fluorescent light.

Harper Vance leaned against a row of blue lockers. She crossed her arms over her chest. A wicked, satisfied smirk stretched across her

mouth.

Look at the charity case, Harper sneered. Her voice carried down the quiet hall, designed for maximum audience impact. “She lost her

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Chapter 175 Trent Blocking The Main Hallway

pristine record. The smart girl from the East Side is nothing but a massive fraud.”

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My face burned with hot humiliation. The insult struck my deepest, most vulnerable insecurity. I spent four years building an impenetrable academic fortress. I traded sleep and social events to prove my worth to these people. The leaked photograph dismantled the entire structure in a single weekend. They stripped my dignity bare.

“Keep walking, Ryder muttered. His voice rumbled deep in his chest.

We moved down the center of the corridor. The wealthy students refused to look away. They cataloged my pale skin. They analyzed my rigid posture. They viewed the genuine connection between us as a massive, elaborate scam. They believed the devotion in Ryder’s eyes belonged to a paid performance. They thought every touch was a calculated move to secure a passing grade.

‘I heard Miller plans to expel him today,” a sophomore whispered to her friend as we passed.

“She deserves to lose her medical scholarship, another student agreed. She conspired to break the probation rules. It is pathetic.”

Every word felt like a physical blow. The weight of their collective judgment threatened to crush my lungs. I wanted to turn around. I wanted to run out the front doors and hide in my small bedroom. I wanted to escape the suffocating pressure of the A-wing.

But I felt Ryder’s presence beside me. I felt the heat radiating from his leather jacket. I remembered the chewed yellow pencil hidden in the dark corner of his closet. The Crestview elite possessed a digital picture of college-ruled paper. They lacked the truth. The profound, bleeding secret remained ours.

I lifted my chin. I set my shoulders back. I met the hostile glares with blank, unyielding defiance. I refused to let them see me bleed.

We approached the intersection of the main hall and the science wing. The administration offices sat twenty yards away. The safety of the principal’s waiting room offered a brief reprieve from the public execution of the hallway.

The crowd of students thickened near the intersection. They formed a tight circle, blocking the path forward.

Ryder narrowed his eyes. The protective fury spiked in his posture. He prepared to shove the wealthy teenagers aside to clear a path to

the office doors.

Before he could raise his hands, the crowd parted.

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