Jordan felt every ounce of it. His right hand slipped toward his pocket. His fingers found the small ring attached to his keys. Apartment key. Old Civic key.
Though the car had been unreliable for months, and one scratched piece of brass stamped with three faded numbers. His thumb moved over the grooves. The metal was warm from his pocket. For a moment, West Haven disappeared. He remembered another hand holding that key.
Larger than his had been then. Workworn fingers, a deep voice telling him that a locked door wasn't always telling you no. Sometimes it was asking whether you had the right key. Jordan closed his fist around the brass. Then he let it go.
Chase noticed. What's that? Jordan's hand stopped. Chase leaned slightly, amused. That old key you keep playing with?
Jordan said nothing. What is it? The key to your storage locker? Tyler laughed. Logan moved closer.
Jordan could see himself reflected faintly in the phone screen. 22 years old, 6'1, heavy through the shoulders and waist. Navy sweatshirts stretched across a body strangers often mistook for softness. His face looked calmer than he felt. "Good, he wanted it that way."
"Excuse me," Jordan said. Tyler stayed where he was. Jordan looked at him, not angrily, not fearfully, just steadily. Something flickered in Tyler's expression. It vanished almost immediately.
Tyler had spent the last few minutes seeing Wait. He hadn't noticed balance. He hadn't noticed the way Jordan's feet remained shoulderwidth apart without conscious effort. He hadn't noticed how little Jordan moved when someone entered his space. And he certainly hadn't noticed Jordan's hands.
Chase clapped once. Come on, big man. Give Logan something worth posting. There it was. The real purpose.
Jordan understood. They didn't merely want to embarrass him. They wanted his reaction. If he shouted, Logan would record the shouting. If he shoved Tyler, Logan would record the shove.
Whatever happened before, that could disappear. Jordan had learned something about humiliation a long time ago. People who wanted to make you look dangerous rarely filmed the beginning. He drew one slow breath, then another. His father's voice seemed to rise from somewhere far behind the glass buildings and polished donor plaques.
Don't give another man control of what kind of man you become. Jordan stepped to his left. Tyler shifted to block him again. A few people murmured. Jordan stopped.
Tyler. It was the first time he'd used his name. Tyler's smile widened. Yeah, I asked you to let me pass. No threat, no raised voice, nothing Logan could turn into what they wanted.
For the first time, Chase looked mildly disappointed. Then a campus employee pushed through the glass doors carrying a stack of folders. Tyler glanced toward him. One second. That was enough.
Jordan stepped around Tyler and continued across the terrace. No rush, no dramatic exit, just one measured step after another. The laughter followed him. That's right, Chase called. Keep moving.
Jordan kept moving. Easy target, Tyler shouted after him. More laughter. Jordan reached the stone stairs. His jaw hurt from holding it tight.