Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 13: Playing Boyfriend

Justin's POV

I didn't let go of her wrist until we were inside the classroom, making sure everyone saw that she was with me now. The room fell silent as I pulled her toward a seat—my seat. I could feel every pair of eyes burning into us, but I didn't care.

June hesitated before sitting down beside me, shifting awkwardly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly trying to regain control of herself after what just happened outside. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her skirt.

"Thanks, for umm... back there. Nice acting," she said quietly, not looking at me.

I let out a low chuckle—dark, humorless. Acting? If only she knew.

I leaned in close, my lips right next to her ear.

"You still want that asshole back?" I whispered.

She stiffened. I felt it—the way her shoulders tensed, the way her breath hitched just slightly.

Good.

She turned to look at me, eyes searching my face, maybe trying to gauge if I was still just playing along with her little game. I didn't break eye contact. I wanted her to see what was behind my eyes, to feel the fury I had barely contained when I saw Bart and that traitor of a best friend cornering her, calling her a whore.

I wanted her to know that I wasn't pretending.

She swallowed hard, then looked away, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"That's what I thought," I murmured, leaning back in my chair.

She was quiet after that, probably too lost in her own thoughts to argue. I could still taste her on my lips, still feel her body pressed against mine from the kiss that wasn't for show. And the worst part?

I wanted more.

I should've let her deal with her own problems. I should've ignored her, kept my distance, let her run back to Bart like the pathetic little fool she had been acting like.

But I didn't.

Because June wasn't going anywhere. Not anymore. Not after that kiss. Not after the way I claimed her in front of everyone.

She was mine now.

And whether she liked it or not, I wasn't letting her go.

She still thought this was an act. That I was just playing my part as her fake boyfriend.

Good.

Let her think that. Let her believe that I was only keeping up the charade.

She had no idea.

No idea that the moment I punched Bart and kissed her in front of everyone, I had decided. This wasn't fake. She was mine now. Not for revenge, not just to help her get back at her ex—no.

This was personal.

She wasn't going to realize it yet, not until it was too late. Not until she paid for what she did.

For forgetting me.

For leaving me behind.

For moving on like none of it ever happened.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was focused on the front of the class, pretending like nothing had happened, like she wasn't still shaking slightly from the scene outside.

Like she wasn't still tasting me on her lips.

I smirked.

Let her believe this was all pretend. Let her play her little game.

She had no idea she was already losing.

Class dragged on, but my mind wasn't on the lecture. I was too aware of her sitting beside me—too aware of how her fingers trembled slightly as she flipped through her notebook, how her breath hitched every time she shifted in her seat.

She was still shaken. Good.

But she was also playing along.

As if on cue, she leaned slightly toward me, lowering her voice so only I could hear. "You're really committing to this role, huh?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I let my fingers drum lazily against the desk, tilting my head to the side as if considering her words.

Then I leaned in closer, just enough that my lips almost brushed her ear.

"Would you rather I be half-assed about it?" I murmured, my voice low, deliberate.

She shivered. Caught that, didn't you, Matthews?

She straightened in her seat, trying to cover up her reaction with an eye-roll. "I just didn't expect you to punch Bart in the face, that's all."

I smirked. "He deserved it."

June sighed, pressing her palm against her forehead. "Great. Now everyone thinks we're together for real."

I leaned back in my chair, stretching out my legs. "That's the point, isn't it?"

She shot me a side glance, lips pressing together as if she wanted to argue but couldn't. I could tell she was still trying to get a read on me, trying to figure out how much of this was an act and how much was just me.

She'd find out soon enough.

The professor dismissed class, and the second we stepped outside, all eyes were on us. Whispers, stolen glances, heads turning.

Perfect.

June exhaled slowly beside me, clutching the strap of her bag. "They're staring."

I slid an arm around her waist. Tight. Possessive. Just enough to make her stiffen before relaxing into it, playing along.

I smirked. "Let them."

And just like that, we walked out together—side by side, the rumors already spreading like wildfire.

She still thought this was all part of the plan.

She had no idea.

I kept my arm around her waist as we walked through campus, making sure everyone saw us. The whispers, the stolen glances—it was all exactly what June wanted.

And what I wanted?

To make her mine in every way she didn't yet realize.

We reached the cafeteria, and she hesitated. "You don't have to stick around, you know," she mumbled.

I smirked, pulling out a chair for her before sitting down across from her. "Now, now, Matthews. I thought we were supposed to be convincing."

She huffed but didn't argue, instead poking at her fries while stealing peeks at me when she thought I wasn't looking.

Oh, I noticed.

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my palm. "Are you always this shy with your boyfriends, or is it just me?"

She shot me a glare, but before she could retort, I reached over and plucked one of her fries right from her tray, popping it into my mouth.

Her jaw dropped. "Excuse you?"

I shrugged. "Boyfriend privileges."

"You—! I was eating that."

"Now I'm eating it." I smirked, stealing another one just to piss her off.

She groaned dramatically, crossing her arms. "If you wanted fries, you should've gotten your own."

I just leaned back in my chair, enjoying the pout on her lips. Cute.

Then, as if to make up for it, I stood up without a word and walked off. I could feel her eyes on me, confused, probably thinking I'd had enough of this little game.

Five minutes later, I came back and dropped a cup of ice cream in front of her.

She blinked at it. Then at me. "What's this?"

I sat down and shrugged. "You like vanilla, don't you?"

She frowned at me suspiciously. "You bought this?"

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"No, it fell from the sky."

She rolled her eyes but took it, scooping a spoonful into her mouth. And the second she did, a soft little hum of satisfaction slipped out before she could stop it.

Something tight coiled in my stomach.

I forced myself to look away, acting nonchalant, but the sound played on a loop in my head.

I picked up another one of her fries, and this time, she swatted my hand away.

"Touch my food again, and I'm stabbing you with my fork," she warned.

I chuckled. "Noted."

As we ate, I could feel people watching—phones subtly aimed in our direction, whispers traveling through the cafeteria. Someone was taking pictures. Probably several people.

Good.

Let Bart see. Let the entire school see.

June Matthews was mine.

Even if she didn't know it yet.