My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 85

Chapter 85 Gentle Traces Hidden Beneath a Calm Act

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The pale, bruised hue of pre-dawn light crept through the narrow slats of my window blinds.

My bedroom remained suspended in deep shadows. The air biting at the tip of my nose felt crisp and chilled. It served as a stark reminder of the harsh April morning waiting outside the glass. Yet, beneath the heavy floral comforter, I floated in a suffocating, absolute warmth.

I did not open my eyes. I drifted in the hazy, disjointed space between sleep and waking.

I felt the steady, rhythmic rise and fall beneath my cheek. A solid, unyielding wall of muscle anchored me.

The scent of worn leather, faint soap, and sharp peppermint grounded my confused senses. The chaotic, exhausting events of the previous day rushed back into my mind. The chemistry lab. The feral jealousy in his eyes. The desperate kiss in the freezing parking lot.

Ryder.

He stayed. He stayed the entire night.

My left arm draped across his torso. My fingers tangled in the soft, faded cotton of his dark henley. My right arm rested flat against the mattress, extended near his hip. He had not moved a single inch. He acted as a human shield, pinning me to the mattress and keeping the

cold at bay.

A rough, calloused texture dragged across the back of my right hand.

I kept my breathing slow and even. I feigned the heavy cadence of deep sleep.

His index finger moved with an agonizing, deliberate pace. He traced a slow circle over the bone of my knuckle. The heavy, cold metal of his silver rings brushed against my skin. A profound shiver raced straight up my arm. He moved his finger down, drawing a straight line past my knuckles, navigating the shallow valleys between my fingers.

He drew an invisible figure-eight. He traced the faint blue veins resting just beneath my pale skin.

He thought I was asleep.

He traced another pattern. The shape of a star. Then, a slow, sweeping curve along the edge of my palm.

A tight, crushing ache swelled behind my sternum. I spent my entire life calculating odds. I built my survival at Crestview Prep on rigid equations and predictable variables. I categorized Ryder Steinmann as a threat, then a tool, and finally, a terrifying complication. I

assumed his darkness would consume me.

Lying in the dark, feeling the absolute, unguarded tenderness in his calloused fingers, the final remnants of my logic turned to ash.

I did not want to move. I wanted to trap this moment in amber. I wanted to exist in this quiet, secret universe where the armor was gone.

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13:01 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 85 Gentle Traces Hidden Beneath a Calm Act

Here, he allowed himself to touch me without the crushing fear of his own destruction hanging over his head.

I took a breath. The movement shifted my shoulder against his chest. My eyelashes fluttered against his shirt.

I opened my eyes.

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The dim morning light caught the sharp, aristocratic slope of his profile. His head bowed, his dark hair falling in a messy tangle across his forehead. He stared down at our hands. His expression lay completely bare. The haunted, self-loathing shadows were absent. He looked at

peace.

Then, he noticed the shift in my breathing. He saw my open eyes.

The transformation happened in a fraction of a second.

The vulnerability snapped shut. A wall of panicked, defensive steel replaced it. The gold in his hazel eyes flared with a sudden, cornered intensity. He snatched his hand back. He treated my skin like burning coal.

He lunged across the mattress. His broad shoulder brushed against my chin in his haste. His large hand slapped down onto the edge of the blankets. His long fingers curled around the small, black plastic television remote resting near my knee.

“Just grabbing the remote, he rasped.

His voice sounded thick. It scraped like sandpaper against the quiet of the room. He jerked back, putting a foot of cold, empty space between our bodies. He tossed the remote onto the wooden nightstand. The plastic clattered against the wood, a sharp, abrasive noise that shattered the fragile peace of the morning.

“It was digging into my leg,” he added.

The excuse sounded entirely hollow. The small television on my dresser remained blank and unplugged.

I pushed myself up, propping my weight on my elbows. The sudden loss of his body heat made me shiver. I pulled the oversized gray hoodie tighter around my shoulders.

I looked at him. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, bruising the pale skin. The rigid tension corded the muscles in his neck. He refused to look at my face. He stared at the blank wall across the room. He rebuilt his impenetrable fortress brick by brick.

“You didn’t sleep,” I observed.

‘I don’t need much sleep, he deflected.

He swung his long legs over the side of the bed. The mattress shifted under his weight. He planted his bare feet on the cheap carpet, placing his back to me.

The intimacy of the night evaporated. The harsh, biting reality of the impending day rushed in to fill the void. The contract was dead. We

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13:01 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 85 Gentle Traces Hidden Beneath a Calm Act

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