My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 56

Chapter 56 Bruised Knuckles and Unspoken Tension Part 1

‘Security to the main intersection. We have an incident.”

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The harsh, metallic voice of a teacher echoed from down the corridor. The spell broke. The students pressed against the walls suddenly began to murmur, the noise rising back into a frantic, chaotic roar. Miller was still scrambling backward on the linoleum, slipping in the

spilled protein shake.

Ryder stood perfectly still, his chest heaving, thick drops of dark red blood falling from his knuckles to splatter against the white tiles. He was waiting for me to pull away. He was waiting for me to look at him with the exact same terror that was painted across Miller’s face.

I didn’t.

My logical brain, the part that calculated GPAs and scholarship requirements, screamed at me to run in the opposite direction. But the cold, terrifying dread from ten minutes ago was completely gone. In its place was a sharp, blinding rush of adrenaline.

I moved forward.

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the heavy leather sleeve of his left arm, my fingers digging into the worn material.

“Come on,” I ordered, my voice tight and breathless.

Ryder blinked, the dark, feral fog in his eyes clearing for a fraction of a second. He looked down at my small hand gripping his jacket. He didn’t argue. He didn’t resist.

I pulled him through the crowd. The students scrambled out of our way faster than before, pressing themselves flat against the metal lockers to avoid touching us. I kept my head down, dragging him past the main office, past the cafeteria double doors, and down the

quiet, isolated D-wing.

The heavy, rhythmic thud of his combat boots followed right behind me. He let me lead him, the terrifying enforcer suddenly completely compliant to the panicked tug of my hand.

We reached the frosted glass door of the school clinic.

I grabbed the brass handle and shoved it open. The waiting area was empty. Nurse Davis didn’t arrive until after the first bell rang.

I pulled Ryder inside and pushed the heavy door shut until the latch clicked. I reached over and flipped the deadbolt. It was a massive breach of school protocol, but if a teacher walked in right now and saw the blood dripping from his hand, he wouldn’t just be suspended. He would be expelled before second period.

The air in the clinic was entirely different from the hallway. It was aggressively sterile, smelling of rubbing alcohol, bleached cotton, and cold linoleum. A small mini-fridge hummed quietly in the corner.

“Sit, I said, dropping my backpack onto one of the plastic waiting chairs.

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Chapter 56 Bruised Knuckles and Unspoken Tension Part 1

I pointed to the main examination bed covered in thin, white tissue paper.

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Ryder walked over and sat down. The paper crinkled loudly under his weight, a sharp, abrasive sound in the quiet room. He slouched forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. He let his injured right hand hang loosely between his knees. The blood was running down the

back of his hand, pooling in the creases of his wrist.

I walked over to the stainless-steel sink in the corner. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely turn the metal knobs. The water sputtered, then ran clear and freezing cold. I grabbed a stack of rough, brown paper towels, holding them under the stream until they

were soaked.

I opened the glass supply cabinet above the sink. My eyes scanned the neatly organized shelves, grabbing a brown plastic bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a tube of antiseptic ointment, a roll of white gauze, and medical tape. I piled the supplies onto a small metal rolling tray and pushed it over to the examination bed.

I stopped right in front of him.

To reach his hand, I had to step directly between his spread knees.

The physical proximity was instantaneous and completely overwhelming. The heavy leather of his jacket brushed against the pleats of my uniform skirt. The heat radiating off his body cut straight through the sterile, freezing air of the clinic.

He didn’t look up at me. He kept his head bowed, his dark hair falling forward to hide his eyes.

I reached out, my trembling fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second, before I gently took his right hand.

His skin was incredibly warm. The sheer size of his hand completely dwarfed mine. I turned his palm downward to inspect the damage.

It was a mess.

The skin over his index and middle knuckles was split wide open, the edges of the cuts raw and jagged from the impact with the hollow steel door. The heavy silver rings he wore on his fingers had driven into his own flesh, compounding the damage. Dark purple bruising was already blooming beneath the surface, spreading rapidly across the back of his hand.

My chest ached. A sharp, physical pressure clamped down right over my heart.

“You re going to get expelled for this, I whispered, my voice thick and uneven.

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