My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 211

Chapter 211 Keeping The Chewed Yellow Pencil

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The wind rushed through the gap. I pushed the heavy wood shut. The brass deadbolt clicked into place, sealing the cold spring storm

outside.

Ryder stood in the center of the cramped living room. Rainwater dripped from his dark; tangled hair. The water hit the floorboards,

leaving dark stains on the faded rug. He held a single black canvas duffel bag in his right hand. His knuckles looked white from the tight

grip.

He did not look like a billionaire heir. He looked like a boy who just survived a shipwreck.

He let go of the canvas strap. The bag hit the ground with a heavy, dull thud. That single bag contained his entire existence. He surrendered his trust fund. He surrendered the sprawling estate in the affluent hills. He surrendered his flawless future. He traded a life

of immense wealth for the cracked concrete of the East Side.

I stood frozen. The sheer magnitude of his sacrifice pressed against my chest. My lungs burned.

“You are soaking wet, I said. My voice lacked strength.

I walked, Ryder replied. He kept his tone level, but a slight tremor betrayed the freezing cold deep in his bones. “My father deactivated my transit pass. He flagged my accounts. I carried the bag from the corporate tower to the city limits.”

He walked ten miles in a freezing spring downpour.

I moved. I walked into the narrow bathroom down the hall. I pulled two clean, dry towels from the plastic rack. I carried them back to the

living room.

I handed him a towel. He took it. He dried his face and his hair. The rough cotton absorbed the rainwater. He draped the towel around his

neck.

I took a step closer. I reached out and grabbed the metal zipper of his leather jacket. I pulled the zipper down. The damp leather felt stiff and heavy. I pushed the jacket off his broad shoulders. He let the garment slide down his arms. I took the heavy jacket and draped it over

the back of the wooden dining chair.

Ryder stood in a black cotton t-shirt. The fabric clung to his chest, damp with sweat and rain.

He surveyed the room. Silence filled the space. His hazel eyes tracked the peeling paint near the ceiling trim. He looked at the closed plastic blinds. He looked at the sagging cushions on the old sofa. He did not judge the space. He did not compare my home to his father’s pristine mansion. He accepted the reality of his new environment with total, unwavering calm.

My bedroom is too small, I told him. “The mattress only fits one person. The sofa sits too close to the wall. You cannot stretch your legs.

You will have to sleep on the floor.”

The floor is fine, Ryder stated.

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13:58 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 211 Keeping The Chewed Yellow Pencil

I walked to the hall closet. I gathered the spare blankets. We possessed zero guest sheets. I pulled out a thick patchwork quilt. My

grandmother sewed the squares together decades ago. The colors looked muted and faded. I grabbed two flat pillows.

I returned to the living room. I dropped the pile of blankets onto the rug.

:))

I dropped to my knees. I spread the thick quilt over the floorboards. I smoothed the wrinkles out with my palms. I created a makeshift

bed in the space between the sofa and the television stand. The arrangement looked pathetic. Arthur Steinmann’s son belonged on silk

sheets in a massive bedroom. I offered him a hard floor and a frayed quilt.

Ryder kneeled beside me. He did not complain. He reached out and helped me pull the edges of the blanket straight.

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‘I stopped at the diner, Ryder said. His voice rumbled in the quiet room. “I checked the front door. The eviction notice is gone. Pete stood

inside. He took the security grates down. My father made the phone call. The lease remains intact.

A massive wave of relief washed over my mind. The tight knot in my stomach unraveled. The threat of homelessness vanished. My mother

retained her kitchen.

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