A Shift in the Air

He didn't know why he was letting Jordan's presence—his constant scrutiny—bother him, but it did. The way Jordan kept poking at his past, his relationship with Vanessa, felt too intrusive, too personal.

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "I get it. You think am intruding . But, uh, if you're so 'over it,' why do you still look like you wanna run back to her?"

James' eyes narrowed. "You don't know what you're talking about." His voice was cold now, a defensive wall rising. "She and I are done. We've been done."

But his mind wouldn't let go of the image of Vanessa, how she looked tonight, how she seemed perfectly at ease in the world that James had spent his whole life navigating—one of wealth, privilege, and power. The contrast between her world and Jordan's world, which was so far removed from anything James had ever known, suddenly felt glaringly obvious.

"Yeah, whatever," Jordan muttered, pulling himself away from the conversation, clearly frustrated.

The two of them barely spoke for the rest of the night. It was a silent truce, each of them nursing their own emotions, their own insecurities. James couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if everyone was looking at him through the lens of his family's wealth. And Jordan—Jordan had a different kind of weight on his shoulders. He didn't belong here, didn't want to belong here. And yet, somehow, he was tied to it all—tied to James, who didn't even seem to understand what it was like to have to fight for a place at this table.

It was during the dinner speeches, when the room had quieted down, that James found himself at a breaking point. He saw Vanessa and her group at a table across the room. His parents were there, too—his father standing proudly as he made eye contact with James from across the room. The expectation was clear. His father was waiting for him to make a move, to show that he was still part of the family's game. Vanessa's polite smile made James' blood run cold, but it was what came next that sent his heart into overdrive.

Jordan had been cornered by some of the other athletes—forced to engage in small talk with people who looked at him like scum. It was the first time James had ever really seen Jordan out of his element, forced to smile and nod, his eyes not quite meeting anyone's.

The sight of Jordan looking so uncomfortable, so out of place, suddenly hit James harder than he expected. He had been so caught up in his own world of entitlement and expectation that he hadn't even considered what it must be like for Jordan, someone from a completely different world, to be thrust into all this.

Before James could process his thoughts, his parents made their way toward him. His mother, with her tight, perfect smile, slipped her arm through his, as if they were still the picture-perfect family. "James," she said in a soft but commanding tone, "make sure you talk to some of the donors tonight. You know, show them what you're capable of."

His father stood beside them, his gaze sweeping across the room. "This is your future, son engage with these portfolios," he said, almost too coldly for comfort. "Don't waste it."

James wanted to push them away, wanted to tell them to leave him alone, but he felt that familiar weight settle on his shoulders. He was expected to be something for them—something he wasn't sure he could ever be.

But then, from across the room, he saw Jordan break away from the group. His posture was different now, relaxed, confident, and for the first time, James wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was something to the life Jordan was leading that James hadn't fully seen before.

James wasn't sure what came over him in that moment, but he excused himself from his parents and made his way across the room.

"Hey, Miles," James called out, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation.

Jordan looked up, surprised but not unwelcoming. "What's up, Calloway?"

"I... I don't know," James started, his mind racing. "I guess I've been a little hard on you lately."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "You? Hard on me?" He let out a humorless chuckle. "That's the understatement of the year."

James exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess I've been acting like a jerk. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's just... this place. All of this." He motioned around the room, the walls that closed in on him from every angle. "But you don't definitely want to be here, do you? And you're still standing, still playing like it doesn't even matter."

Jordan looked at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "I'm just trying to make it work. Make it all work. This isn't my world, but I'm here for a reason."

And in that moment, James saw something in Jordan he hadn't noticed before. A strength, a resilience that hadn't been manufactured by wealth or privilege, but something real, something James didn't understand until now.

"Yeah," James said quietly. "I guess you're right."

It wasn't much, but it was the start of something different. A quiet understanding, a subtle shift between them. One that neither of them had seen coming.