James was leaning against a tree, a grin tugging at his lips as he listened to you. The two of you always had these easy conversations, the kind that felt like they could go on forever. As you spoke, your voice light but playful, you said:

“You grew up in a silver-spoon gated community, glamorous , shiny, bright Beverly Hills. and I was raised on a farm, no, it wasn’t a mansion, just livin’ room dancin’ and kitchen table bills.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but intrigued, the smile never leaving his face. His thoughts ran for a moment, appreciating how effortlessly you spoke your mind.

“Beverly Hills, huh?” James chuckled, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mix of teasing and warmth. He leaned closer, nudging your shoulder with his own in that playful way he always did when he was close to you. “But you know… I might’ve had shiny things, but I always kind of liked your farm life better.” He said it with a softness, a sincerity in his voice that betrayed the lighthearted tone. “Dancin’ in the living room sounds like a hell of a lot more fun.”