My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 24

Chapter 24 Tension Rising in the Parking Lot

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I had spent six straight hours under a microscope. Every time I walked down a corridor, stood at my locker, or sat in a classroom, I felt

the heavy, scraping weight of hundreds of eyes analyzing my every move. I had kept my spine entirely straight. I had kept my chin up. I

had played the part of Ryder Steinmann’s completely unbothered girlfriend until my facial muscles ached from the effort.

It worked. By fifth period, Harper Vance was actively avoiding my line of sight, and the whispers about Mr. Harrison had been completely

replaced by frantic gossip about me and Ryder.

But the performance had drained every single ounce of energy from my body.

I slung my backpack over my right shoulder, the canvas strap digging into my collarbone. Ryder had told me to meet him at the edge of

the South Lot, away from the bottleneck of the main student exit. I pushed my way through the crowded hallway, keeping my eyes fixed

on the scuffed linoleum floor.

I shoved the heavy metal exit doors open and stepped out into the crisp, biting March air.

The South Lot was designated for faculty and overflow parking. It was mostly empty this time of day, a vast stretch of cracked asphalt

bordered by the towering brick wall of the gymnasium. The wind whipped across the open space, freezing the light layer of sweat on the

back of my neck. I pulled the lapels of my navy blazer tighter across my chest and started walking toward the chain-link fence at the far

end.

“Petrova.”

The voice came from behind me.

I froze, my loafers skidding slightly on the loose gravel. It wasn’t Ryder. It wasn’t Harper.

I turned around.

Mr. Harrison was jogging toward me from the side doors of the gym.

He didn’t look like the put-together, authoritative calculus teacher who commanded the front of a classroom. His grey suit jacket was

unbuttoned, flapping wildly in the wind. His patterned tie was pulled loose, hanging askew over his rumpled collar. He was sweating

heavily, his face flushed a dark, blotchy red despite the cold temperature.

I took a step backward, my instincts screaming at me to turn and run. But my legs felt like they were cast in concrete. He was a teacher.

The ingrained, automatic respect for authority kept me rooted to the spot.

“Mr. Harrison,” I started, my voice tight and thin. “I need to catch my—”

“Get over here,” he interrupted, his tone completely lacking its usual professional distance.

He didn’t wait for me to comply. He grabbed my upper arm. His grip was entirely too tight, his blunt fingers digging painfully through the

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Chapter 24 Tension Rising in the Parking Lot

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wool of my blazer. He yanked me forward, pulling me off the main walkway and dragging me into the narrow, shadowed space between a large silver SUV and the rough brick wall of the gym.

“What are you doing?” I gasped, stumbling over the uneven asphalt. I tried to pull my arm away, but his grip was rigid. Let go of me!”

He shoved me backward. My shoulder blades hit the brick wall hard. The impact knocked the breath out of my lungs in a sharp rush.

Mr. Harrison stepped into my personal space, boxing me in completely. He planted one hand on the brick wall right next to my head, blocking my only exit. The smell of his stale coffee breath, mixed with sharp, sour body odor and cheap cologne, washed over me. It was

suffocating.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he hissed, his eyes wide and panicked. Small beads of sweat gathered at his hairline.

I pressed my back completely flat against the cold bricks, shrinking away from him. My heart hammered a frantic, terrified rhythm against

my ribs.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “Harper Vance started that rumor, not me. I never said a word to anyone.”

“It doesn’t matter who started it!” he snapped, leaning an inch closer. I turned my face away, closing my eyes against the overwhelming smell of his panic. “The principal called me into his office at noon, Raisa. The alumni board is asking questions. My wife is six months

pregnant. If I lose this job over some sick, twisted high school gossip, I will lose everything.”

“I know,” I breathed, opening my eyes to look at his flushed, angry face. “That’s why I fixed it. I fixed it today. Everyone is talking about

me and Ryder now. The rumor about us is dead. No one believes it.”

“The administration still believes it!” he shouted, his voice echoing loudly in the narrow space between the car and the wall. He slammed

his free hand against the hood of the silver SUV. The loud, metallic bang made me jump out of my skin.

“They don’t care about your little stunt with Steinmann,” he growled, pointing a thick, shaking finger directly at my face. “They want

proof. They want a scapegoat. And it is not going to be me.”

The absolute malice in his tone paralyzed me. He wasn’t acting like a teacher anymore. He was a cornered, desperate man, and he was

taking it all out on a seventeen-year-old girl because I was the easiest target.

“You are going to walk back into that building,” Harrison ordered, his voice dropping to a harsh, threatening whisper. “You are going to

march straight into Margaret Gable’s office, and you are going to tell her that you fabricated the entire story. You are going to tell her

that you made a pass at me, that I rejected you, and that you started the rumor for attention.”

The air rushed out of my lungs.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “If I say that, they’ll expel me. They’ll pull my scholarship.”

“I don’t care about your scholarship!” he spat, his face twisting into an ugly sneer. “You are a charity case, Petrova. I am a tenured professional with a family. You are going to take the fall for this, or I swear to God, I will personally ensure you fail Calculus. I will drag

your GPA down so fast you won’t even get into a community college. Do you understand me?”

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