Resenting you [BXB]

RESENTING YOU - 01 | ''There was a mix-up.''

JORDAN WOKE UP TO the incessant beep of his alarm clock, the sound slicing through the remnants of his dreams like a knife through fog. He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes before reluctantly swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was cool against his feet, a small jolt that helped chase away the last vestiges of sleep.

He moved through his morning routine with the precision of a well-oiled machine. Jordan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face. There was nothing particularly wrong with what he saw: a strong jawline, clear blue eyes, and a head of tousled blond hair that refused to stay in place. Yet, there was nothing that he found particularly brag-worthy either. Just another high school senior trying to figure out where he fit in the world.

With a sigh, he stripped off his pajamas and stepped into the shower, the hot water a welcome embrace that washed away the lingering fatigue. He let the water pound against his shoulders, the steam rising around him like a shroud, before he finally shut it off and reached for a towel. He dressed quickly in a plain grey hoodie and matching grey sweats, comfort and simplicity the main goals for his outfit.

Downstairs, the morning was already in full swing. His father was in the living room, dressed in a sharp suit and engrossed in a business call. He barely glanced up as Jordan entered the room, offering only a curt nod before returning to his conversation.

Jordan moved into the kitchen, where his mother was bustling around, her nurse scrubs a stark contrast to the casual attire of her son. She turned as he entered, a warm smile lighting up her face.

"Good morning, sweetheart," She said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wrapping him in a quick hug. "Have a good day at school, okay? I'll see you later."

"Thanks, Mom," Jordan replied, smiling back. "You too. Don't work too hard."

She laughed softly, a sound like tinkling bells. "I'll try not to. Take care, honey."

As she gathered her things and headed for the door, Jordan turned his attention to the kitchen. He wasn't much of a cook—his one attempt at making eggs had nearly set the kitchen ablaze—so he opted for a safer choice: cereal. He poured himself a bowl, the milk splashing against the colorful flakes, and took a seat at the table.

The house was quiet now, the only sounds the occasional click of his father's voice drifting in from the other room and the rustle of the newspaper on the counter. Jordan ate his breakfast slowly, lost in his thoughts. He glanced at the clock and noted the time. With a sigh, he finished his cereal, rinsed his bowl, and grabbed his backpack.

He stepped into the garage, the sleek lines of his black Lamborghini reflecting the morning light. The car was a gift for his sixteenth birthday, a symbol of his family's wealth and his father's pride. Jordan slid into the driver's seat, the leather cool against his skin, and started the engine. The powerful rumble echoed through the garage, a promise of speed and freedom.

As he pulled out onto the road, the familiar route to school stretched ahead of him. The world outside the tinted windows was just waking up, but Jordan's mind was already racing ahead, contemplating the day to come. 

The morning light glinted off the hood, casting long shadows and golden streaks across the road. He reveled in the power beneath him, pushing the speed limit as he took familiar turns with precision. The hum of the tires on asphalt was a comforting constant, a reminder of control in a world that seemed increasingly chaotic.

As he approached the school parking lot, Jordan could feel a sense of foreboding creeping into his chest. He slowed down, scanning the lot for his usual spot. But as he turned the corner, his eyes landed on an unfamiliar silver truck parked squarely in his space.

"Are you kidding me?" He shouted, the words echoing harshly in the enclosed space of the car. His fists slammed against the steering wheel, the impact reverberating through his arms. Everyone knew that spot was practically his; he had parked there every day since sophomore year. Rolling his eyes in frustration, he searched for an alternative, finally opting for a shaded spot next to some trees. He parked carefully, avoiding other cars to protect his baby from potential scratches.

Grabbing his bag from the backseat, he slung it over his shoulder and walked toward the school, irritation coursing through him like a live wire. The absence of his friends only added to his growing annoyance. He heard snippets of conversations as he passed groups of students, phrases like "The new kid did this" and "The new kid did that" swirling around him. He couldn't care less.

By the time he reached his second class, science, his temper had cooled somewhat. Lia, the girl who had been infatuated with him since freshman year, was in this class. She sat to his left, her bubbly presence a welcome distraction.

"Hey, Jordan," She chirped as he sat down. "Did you hear about the new kid? He's supposed to be really cool."

Jordan forced a small smile. "Yeah, I've heard. Everyone's talking about him."

"I know, right? It's like he's some kind of celebrity. I haven't seen him yet, but apparently, he's gorgeous."

Jordan rolled his eyes internally but maintained his smile. Gorgeous was pushing it. "Guess we'll see."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Mr. Collins, their science teacher, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and glasses perpetually sliding down his nose, opened the door and spoke in low tones to the principal. After a moment, he nodded and turned back to the class.

"Class, I'll be stepping out for a few minutes. Behave until I get back," Mr. Collins instructed before following the principal out of the room.

Jordan and Lia resumed their conversation. "So, Jordan, are you coming to the game tomorrow night?" Lia asked, leaning in closer.

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it," Jordan replied, his smile genuine this time. Aside from Football, basketball was one of the few things that made him truly happy.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Mr. Collins returned, followed by a familiar face. Jordan's heart sank. The boy from two weeks ago —the one everyone had been talking about—stood there, dressed in a black graphic tee, basketball shorts, and a durag that matched his sneakers. Today, he had swapped his septum piercing for a plain stud on his right nostril.

"Class, this is Khalid Harrington," Mr. Collins announced. "There was a mix-up, and he was accidentally enrolled in an AP course. This is his rightful class. Please make him feel welcome."

So that was his name

Jordan watched as the room seemed to come alive, students perking up and straightening in their seats at the sight of Khalid. It annoyed him to see how easily Khalid drew attention.

"Now, if anyone has an empty desk next to them, please raise your hand," Mr. Collins said.

Much to Jordan's dismay, Lia raised her hand, indicating the empty desk on her left. Mr. Collins pointed to it. "Khalid, you can take a seat there."

As Khalid walked over, the room buzzed with questions. "Where are you from?" "What sports do you play?" "Do you like it here so far?"

Khalid answered with easy smiles and chuckles, his deep dimple making several girls swoon. Even Lia  had turned her back to Jordan for the rest of the lesson, chatting animatedly with Khalid.

Jordan forced himself to look uninterested, fiddling with his fingers and trying to block out the chatter. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't ignore the gnawing irritation.

When the bell finally rang, Jordan was the first one up and out of his seat. Football practice awaited him—the one sport that always occupied all his thoughts and cleared his head. He needed the distraction more than ever.