Page 1 of Blake University: HBCU Chronicles – Yon & Imole

Imole stood in the mirror, smoothing down the sides of her navy-blue dress and adjusting the strap of her mini purse for what had to be the twelfth time.

She exhaled, then gave herself a once-over.

No backbrace.

No braces.

No acne.

Just her. Finally.

If somebody had told her in high school that she’d be standing here, on the campus of Blake University during homecoming weekend, contemplating whether or not she actually looked cute enough to pull up to the yard with confidence, she’d have laughed in their face.

But this was real.

She had made it out of that awkward phase; the scoliosis brace she had to wear damn near daily, the metal mouth, the forehead pimples that wouldn’t quit.

Back then, walking into a room meant praying to God nobody noticed her.

Now? People were starting to notice.

She wasn't all the way used to it, but she was leaning into the glow-up one day at a time.

Imole was a sophomore majoring in Criminal Justice and Law.

Born and raised in Southfield, Michigan, just outside of Detroit, her parents were Nigerian immigrants who didn’t believe in average.

So, books came before boys, grades over games, and everything, I mean everything had to be earned.

That discipline made her top of her class, but it didn’t leave much room for social life.

She didn’t mind at first.

She was nerdy by nature.

A little awkward.

A little quiet.

The kind of girl who'd rather stay in with a new Jahquel J.

novel than go to a party. Her closest thing to a boyfriend was a tie between Capone and Cappadonna, her favorite fictional baes, who knew how to handle a woman and an enemy with equal force.

But, something shifted after freshman year.

Watching her best friends, Lala and Stormii, live out wild, hilarious, and sometimes scandalous college stories, made her want more.

More than just library shifts and group chats.

She didn’t want to be the girl who only got the hot tea second hand, she wanted to be the tea.

And if she was being real with herself, she was tired of living vicariously through everybody else's “omg girl, you won’t believe what happened” moments.

So, she said it out loud.

To Lala.

To Stormii.

And both of them damn near screamed.

“Yes, bitch! We’ve been waiting!”

They immediately started plotting outfits, hair, nails, and strategies for maximum slay. And even though Imole’s nerves were still dancing in her chest, she felt... ready.

Then there was him.

Yon Dawson III.

BU’s golden boy. The face of the football team. The Men of Mega’s pride and joy. Old money. Legacy name. Beautiful smile.

She had tutored him last semester but Lord… That was the best time of her freshman year.

The man smelled like heaven, had skin like melted dark chocolate, and when he smiled? Game over.

But what really took her out was the damn gray sweatpants he wore to every session.

She swore it was on purpose. And yeah, she looked. More than once.

Yon was smart.

Not genius smart, but smart enough to know what he didn’t know and smart enough to fake it if he had to.

But around her, he was surprisingly chill.

Asked real questions. Actually tried to be normal. She remembered sitting across from him, trying to explain something simple about the Constitution while also telling herself not to stare at his lips.

He had no idea what kind of internal panic she was having.

He was just so damn fine.

And his package was highly blessed and favored, so she heard.

And now, it was homecoming weekend, and the whole school was buzzing.

She knew he’d be everywhere; on the field, at the parties, on everybody’s IG story.

Part of her wanted to stay inside, throw on a hoodie, and disappear into a book.

But the other part, the one that was tired of blending in, just wanted to be seen.

This was her chance to start over.

Not to become someone fake, but to let people meet the version of her that was finally done hiding.

And Imole Ubanks was ready.