Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 14: Easing Into It

Justin's POV

If we were going to sell this, we had to make it real.

At least, that's what I told myself as I slung an arm over June's shoulder, pulling her closer as we strolled down the hallway. She stiffened for a second before playing along, leaning into me like it was natural, like we'd been doing this forever.

She was good at this.

Too good.

Maybe because she was still under the delusion that this was all part of her little revenge scheme. If only she knew—I wasn't faking. Not even a little.

Then I saw him.

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Bart Anderson.

And his new Bambi.

June saw them at the same time I did. I felt her body go rigid against me, her fingers clenching around the strap of her bag.

Bart had his arm slung lazily around her former best friend—the same girl who had turned on her, betrayed her, and now had the audacity to look smug as they stood there, perfectly positioned in the middle of the hall like they owned the place.

People were already watching, waiting for drama, waiting for sparks to fly.

Bart's gaze landed on June, and I saw the flicker of something dark cross his face. Regret? Guilt? Maybe even jealousy?

Good.

I smirked, tightening my hold on her. "Showtime, baby," I murmured low enough for only her to hear.

She turned her head slightly toward me, confusion flickering in her eyes. But before she could ask what I meant, I spun her around—fast, sudden—and caged her against the row of lockers, one arm braced above her head.

A gasp slipped from her lips.

I didn't give her time to think.

Lowering my head, I pressed my lips to hers.

Soft at first.

Then hard.

Possessive.

Claiming.

I felt her breath hitch, her body tense against mine, but I didn't stop. I tilted my head, deepening the kiss, tasting the faint traces of vanilla ice cream still lingering on her lips. My free hand gripped her waist, pulling her even closer until there was no space left between us.

She made a tiny sound—half surprise, half something else—and I swallowed it whole, taking everything she had to give.

The hallway had gone silent.

People were watching.

Phones were out, capturing this moment.

Let them.

I wasn't just putting on a show—I was proving a point.

I was making sure Bart knew exactly what he lost.

And then, just as quickly as I started, I pulled back.

June's eyes were wide, lips slightly swollen, breath uneven.

I leaned down, pressing my mouth against her ear, voice dropping into something low and dark, just for her.

"Mine."

She shivered. I felt it.

And so did Bart.

Because the moment I turned my head, I saw the pure rage in his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight. He looked like he was seconds away from throwing a punch.

Perfect.

But before he could say a word, his little Bambi ruined it.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Wow, June. Didn't take you long to spread your legs for the next guy, huh?"

June flinched.

Rage flared inside me like a wildfire.

I turned fully to face her, my grip on June tightening like a silent reassurance. "You got something to say, sweetheart?" My voice was smooth, almost lazy—but it carried weight. It made people listen. It made people afraid.

Bambi shifted uncomfortably but held her ground. "Just calling it how I see it. You cheated on Bart, and now you're throwing yourself at him? Desperate much?"

June sucked in a sharp breath. I felt her nails dig into my arm, her entire body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.

I didn't let her.

I stepped forward, towering over the pathetic excuse of a girl who dared to speak to my June like that.

"You're real confident talking shit for someone who's got another girl's sloppy seconds," I said, voice dropping lower, darker.

Her eyes widened.

Bart's expression twisted in fury. "What did you just say?" he growled.

I smirked. "You heard me." Then I glanced back at June, wrapping an arm around her waist again, pulling her flush against me.

Then I turned back to June, ignoring the whispers, the gasps, the phones still recording.

She was staring at me.

Stunned.

Maybe a little shaken.

Maybe a little something else.

I reached down, took her hand, and interlocked our fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Let's go," I said, my voice softer now, but still firm.

She didn't argue.

Didn't resist.

She just followed.

And as we walked away, as I led her down the hall, away from the chaos, I felt it—

The shift.

The moment everything changed.

She still thought this was fake.

She still thought I was acting.

But she had no idea.

This?

This was only the beginning.

******

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but one thing was certain—June was mine now.

At least, that's what the entire school believed.

By the time lunch had ended, the whispers had evolved into a full-blown frenzy. People stared when we passed by. Girls sneaked glances, some jealous, some curious, others downright shocked. The guys? They looked terrified.

And June?

She played along—reluctantly at first.

But by the time our last class was over, she was acting every bit the role of my girlfriend, whether she realized it or not. She stayed close, our hands brushed more times than necessary.

She still thought I was acting.

She still thought this was fake.

That was fine.

She'd figure it out soon enough.

The sun was setting when we walked out of the last building. I had my helmet in one hand, my keys in the other, and June was next to me, arms crossed as we made our way toward the parking lot.

She let out a heavy sigh. "So... are you going to take me home, boyfriend?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

I smirked. "I didn't hear you ask nicely."

She shot me a glare, but there was no real heat in it. "Please, oh great and mighty Justin, will you do me the honor of driving me home?"

I chuckled. "Better."

When we reached my bike, I handed her my spare helmet. She hesitated, glancing at it like it might bite. "You ride this every day?"

"Obviously."

She frowned. "I thought you had a car?"

"I do." I swung my leg over the bike, settling into the seat. "But I prefer this."

She groaned but took the helmet anyway, mumbling something under her breath as she slid it on. I didn't ask her to repeat it. Instead, I reached forward, fastening the strap under her chin.

She froze.

I could feel her breath hitch, see the way her lips parted just slightly as my fingers brushed against her skin.

I took my time.

Watched the way her lashes fluttered.

Then I pulled away, smirking. "There. Wouldn't want you falling off, princess."

She scowled. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

I grinned. "Every second of it."

She huffed but didn't argue. Instead, she climbed on behind me, gripping the sides of the seat like she was terrified.

I rolled my eyes, reaching back to grab her wrists.

She yelped as I pulled her arms around my waist.

"Hold on," I ordered. "Unless you want to fall off."

She hesitated. Then, slowly, she tightened her grip.

I felt her press against me, warm and soft, and for a brief second, I let my eyes close.

This was too easy.

Too natural.

Too dangerous.

I revved the engine, shaking the thought from my head.

Then I took off, driving into the night with June holding onto me like her life depended on it.