Michael B Jordan Side Profile Novels & Stories

All of it—a stalling tactic. With five minutes left, I shaved invisible side hairs like they were enemies of progress. I checked the clock. Five minutes. Deep breath. ****** I stepped into the tiled room. My eyes levelled ninety degrees. Unlike Jordan who will hang his towel low on his waist to display his Apollo's Belt, mine has tied high up my waist. Tight. Speaking of Jordan—he’d gone with the first batch. Said he wanted to get to the commissary early to get the first round of treats. Said it would benefit both of us. I didn’t ask questions.

Michael and Dylan sat side by side, while Emilio took a seat at the edge of the couch, his small frame dwarfed by the large cushions. The cameras began rolling, the interview broadcast live to countless viewers. Michael inhaled deeply, his nerves on edge. He glanced at Dylan, who gave him an encouraging nod. Michael straightened up, his voice steady. "Good morning, everyone. I’m Michael Jordan, popularly known as MLD." Dylan followed, his tone equally steady and calm "And I’m Dylan Smith, Michael's boyfriend."

Just me and this random guy standing on the steps outside the building. He turned to me fully now, sliding his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. Up close, he was… striking. Maybe 6’2”, lean but clearly athletic. There was something oddly familiar about his face. He looked a little like Tyler. It wasn't identical, but enough that it made my stomach twist uncomfortably. “I’m Jordan ,” he said offering a hand “ Transfer student. Sorry you had to deal with that asshole"

"I did once, not anymore." "What made you stop?" He asked again. Why did I stop? Jessie was why. They both bonded over basketball, Adrian and Jessie. He was his hero on the court, and a role model Adrian looked up to even off the court. "We're all we've got lil Jay," 'Lil Jay: short for little Jordan ', Jessie called him that, because of his admiration Michael B. Jordan. "Mom ain't here, Dad is... You know, so we dudes gotta stick together."

But what they said about the great Salvadore was true, it takes more than a single success to impress him, he was a tough guy who put others at a foot of estale more Basque than him He then stepped back slowly without being noticed any more, but was determined, since he wanted a half to find a more conventional idea in Salavdore’s eyes. Across the room Lila stood with Mike in front of a more elegant man who looked exactly like him. A little drunk but still convincing. -Hi Dad, this is the real author of the movie "To the End of the World" Mike Bull. -Really ? -I'm serious. At first I didn't believe it, but it turns out that it was this little genius behind this great architecture. -Hello sir

The people of South City had grown extremely familiar with her face that it was Sabrina. The second photo was taken from a different angle immediately after. The man’s side profile could be seen this time. The side profile could not be described as beautiful. ‘Beautiful’ mainly was used to describe women, while the man’s side profile was sharp and angular. If it were slightly more angular, it would be too much, but any less, and it would not be so perfect. The sharp angle of his features showed character and made him look steadfast and resolute. His side profile looked perfect together with the slight stubble that showed his mature masculinity as if sculptured by the hands of a master sculpt

He explained. There was a beat of silence, then a grin broke out on Blaine's face. “You're a bloody genius.” He enthused. “It's…nice.” I grudgingly admitted. Jordan nodded at me once then turned back to what he was reading. Wasn't it ironic that Jordan had ended up being the one to choose the username? “Okay, done. Now who do you want to follow, apart from me of course.” He quickly searched up his profile and I was greeted with a photo of him in a deep blue suit that matched his eyes standing on a red carpet, a knowing smile playing about his lips.

I was trying to reach the top shelf but realized I was too short, which annoyed me. "Need a hand?", a voice said from behind me. I turned around, startled, seeing Jordan leaning against the kitchen wall. His shirt was still off, which I had seen in the room, but I allowed myself to really take his form. He was not as bulky, but his muscles were shown clearly. Good fucking genetics. He wore grey sweatpants. My eyes followed the v-cut shape he sported. He cleared his throat, and I looked back up into his blue eyes. He had that same expression in his eye that Carter had after I had been caught checking him out.

“What is this?” I ask. I know very well what it is; I just have to say something to break the tension. “An employment contract,” he replies. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he completely understands what I’m doing. He’s a smart man, which leads me to my next question. “Who are you, Michael? This is…this is so much money. You could hire someone for way less…” “Michael Jordan,” he says. “Of Jordan Incorporated. Ever heard of me?”