My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 80

Chapter 80 A Chemistry Partner Drawing Too Much Attention

The weekend left a hollow cavern in my chest. Ryder’s promise hung over my head like a rusted guillotine blade.

I sat on a rigid metal stool in AP Chemistry. The scent of ozone and rubbing alcohol stung my nose. I stared at the blank pages of my

composition notebook. I could not focus. I kept replaying the crushing despair in his hazel eyes.

I will tell you the rest of it. And then I will let you go. I had spent Saturday and Sunday staring at my phone screen. The silence stretched between us, an ocean of unspoken fears. Ryder needed time. I understood his hesitation. Giving me his final secret meant risking the fragile peace we had found in the abandoned drama wing. He believed his darkness would drive me away. I spent forty-eight hours. wanting to shatter that belief. I wanted to prove his father wrong. I wanted to prove the rumors wrong. But to do that, I needed him to

trust me.

The bell rang, a sharp shriek echoing against the cinderblock walls. I took my seat. The cold metal of the stool bit through my uniform skirt. The chemistry lab was a sanctuary of logic. In this room, reactions followed established laws. Acids neutralized bases. Elements combined in predictable patterns. There were no hidden variables. There were no devastating secrets waiting in the shadows to destroy

the balance.

Mr. Sterling stood at the front of the lab, clapping his hands together. The sound cut through the ambient chatter of the juniors.

“Goggles on, Mr. Sterling commanded. His voice boomed over the scraping of chairs. “We are starting the acid-base titrations today. Pair up with your assigned bench partners. I expect a pale pink endpoint. A magenta flask results in a failing grade.”

I reached for my clear plastic safety goggles. The elastic strap snapped against my dark hair. A shadow fell across the black resin surface of my workstation, blocking the harsh fluorescent light overhead.

“Looks like it is you and me, Raisa.”

I raised my head. Julian Hayes offered a bright, magazine-ready smile.

Julian represented the epitome of Crestview Prep. He wore a crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing expensive silver cufflinks and a designer watch. His blonde hair possessed a flawless, intentional sweep. He played lacrosse, carried a pristine GPA, and existed in a world untouched by rumors or broken lockers. He was a safe, predictable variable. Two months ago, an assignment with Julian would have felt like a massive academic relief.

Today, his presence felt like an intrusion.

I missed the quiet intensity of Ryder. I missed the way he would lean back in his chair, twirling a pen between his bruised fingers, absorbing the lecture without taking a single note. Ryder brought a dark, restless energy to every space he occupied. Beside Julian’s polished exterior, the absence of that energy felt stark and jarring.

“Hi, Julian,” I said.

I grabbed the phenolphthalein and the sodium hydroxide,” he stated. He set a cluster of glass beakers onto the counter. The glass clinked

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Chapter 80 A Chemistry Partner Drawing Too Much Attention

against the black resin. “You want to handle the burette, or should I?”

“I can do it, I offered. I reached for the long glass tube.

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The lab assignment required focus. We needed precision to secure an A. I clamped the burette to the metal stand. I poured the clear liquid into the top, measuring the meniscus against the printed lines. I wanted to finish the math, document the results, and escape the suffocating air of the classroom. I needed to find Ryder. We needed to finish the conversation from Friday. The agonizing wait was tearing

my nerves to shreds.

Julian leaned his hip against the black counter. He did not watch the chemical reaction. He watched me.

“You have been quiet, Julian observed.

“I am trying to maintain my grades,” I replied. I adjusted the stopcock. A single drop of base fell into the flask below. The liquid swirled,

clear and unchanged.

Julian let out a soft chuckle. “Right. The valedictorian race. Liam told me you were pulling away from the pack. But I figure you have had

a lot of distractions this semester.”

I stiffened. The mention of distractions carried a heavy, unspoken weight. I kept my eyes fixed on the swirling liquid in the flask.

“I manage my time,” I said.

“You manage a lot, Julian corrected. He took a step closer. The scent of generic, expensive cologne washed over my space, clashing with the sterile ozone in the room. “I mean, dragging a guy like Steinmann through European History must take a toll. Everyone is talking

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