My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52 Confusion Lingering After a Public Moment

The morning sun cut through the gaps in my cheap plastic blinds, casting harsh, bright lines across my narrow bed.

I was already awake. I hadn’t slept for more than twenty consecutive minutes all night. Every time I managed to drift off, the heavy, suffocating memory of the sunken living room dragged me right back to consciousness. I could still feel the phantom pressure of his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck. I could still taste the dark, bitter edge of coffee and peppermint on my tongue.

I rolled over, throwing my forearm over my eyes to block out the light.

My lips felt tender. Sensitive. They were physically bruised from the demanding, desperate pressure of his mouth.

I let out a slow, jagged breath and sat up. The air in my bedroom was freezing. I wrapped my arms around my chest, my feet finding the cold hardwood floor. I walked to the small mirror hanging on the back of my closet door and stared at my reflection.

I looked like a complete wreck.

Dark, heavy circles bruised the skin under my brown eyes. My hair was a tangled, static mess. But it was my mouth that gave everything away. It was slightly swollen, flushed a deeper shade of pink than usual. A glaring, physical brand left behind by Ryder Steinmann.

I turned the bathroom faucet on, splashing freezing water over my face, desperate to wash the heavy, chaotic static electricity out of my system. It didn’t work. The cold water just made me more awake, forcing me to confront the absolute mess I had made of my own survival

strategy.

I had kissed him back. I had gripped his leather jacket and surrendered entirely to the lie, blurring the lines until the contract was

nothing but a worthless piece of paper.

I dried my face with a scratchy towel. My mother was already gone for her early shift at the diner. The house was dead quiet.

I checked the clock on my phone. 9:15 AM.

We had a scheduled meeting at the downtown public library at ten. It was Saturday. Our designated time to review his homework for the upcoming week and exchange the syllabus notes. Yesterday, I would have treated this meeting like a business transaction. Today, my stomach was twisting into tight, painful knots at the mere thought of sitting across a table from him.

How were we supposed to look at each other? What do you say to the fake boyfriend who kissed you like he wanted to burn the rest of

the world down?

I pulled on a thick gray sweater and a pair of faded jeans. I packed my heavy canvas backpack, making sure the AP Chemistry worksheets and the European History timeline were perfectly organized in their green plastic folders. I needed the routine. I needed the armor of my academics to hide how completely exposed I felt.

The walk to the library was a blur of gray clouds and biting wind. I didn’t feel the cold. I was burning from the inside out, completely

consumed by the anticipation of seeing him.

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12:52 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 52 Confusion Lingering After a Public Moment

I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the library. The familiar smell of old paper, dust motes, and lemon floor polish hit my nose. I walked straight to the back corner of the nonfiction section, finding the exact scratched wooden table where we had signed our ruined

contract.

I sat down, pulling my binders out and arranging them on the wood.

The clock on the wall ticked. 9:55 AM.

My knee started to bounce under the table. I clasped my hands together, pressing them flat against the cover of my notebook to hide the

tremor in my fingers.

What if he didn’t show up? What if the kiss had breached too many of his own boundaries, and he just ghosted the entire arrangement? He had looked completely wrecked when Chase interrupted us. He had been shaking. He had exposed a raw, terrifying level of vulnerability, and guys like Ryder didn’t handle vulnerability well. They retreated. They built walls.

The heavy glass entrance doors chimed.

My breath completely stalled in my lungs. I kept my eyes fixed on my notebook, unable to look up as the unmistakable, heavy thud of his

combat boots echoed against the thin carpet.

The footsteps grew closer. The scent of worn leather and sharp peppermint washed over the table, drowning out the smell of the old

books.

Ryder grabbed the back of the metal chair opposite me and pulled it out. It screeched harshly against the linoleum.

I finally forced my head up, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

He dropped into the chair.

He was wearing a faded black t-shirt under his heavy leather jacket. His dark hair was messy, falling across his forehead in the exact same

way it had last night.

But his face was a complete, impenetrable vault.

There was no tension in his broad shoulders. The dark, burning heat that had consumed his hazel eyes in Chase’s living room was entirely gone. The shards of gold and green were flat, dull, and completely indifferent.

Morning, honors, he muttered.

His rough, gravelly voice was completely casual. It lacked any heavy undercurrent. It lacked the quiet, secret devotion I had heard when

he stood in my locker bay.

He didn’t look at my mouth. He didn’t even look at my eyes. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper, and tossed it onto the table between us.

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