Page 17 of Blake University: HBCU Chronicles – Yon & Imole

The bass thumped so hard the foundation shook. The Mega Man House was alive and lit from every corner, bodies pressed together, red cups in hand, the air thick with cologne, sweat, and weed. It was the party of Homecoming weekend, and was posted up in the corner with Lala and Stormii, taking it all in.

“I swear, if another dude steps on my Crocs, I’m kicking somebody,”

Stormii muttered, half-laughing, half-serious as she adjusted her puffball bun.

Lala sipped her drink and scanned the crowd.

“Girl, this party thick. Ain’t no air in here and I’m not even mad.”

laughed, shifting her weight against the wall. She had on a cropped white tee with “Blake U”

cut off just above the hem, paired with a cut-off jean shorts, a blue blazer, and gold-tone bamboo hoops. Her curls were pulled up in a pineapple puff, and her lip gloss stayed poppin' all night. She didn’t dress for attention, but she was catching it.

Still, her eyes kept glancing toward the door. He wasn’t there. Yet. As if summoned by her thoughts, the front door opened wide and in walked Yon Dawson III. The energy shifted. Heads turned. Conversations paused. Even the music seemed to take a breath. He didn’t just walk in he arrived.

A fitted Crimson and gold Mega Phi Psi tee hugged his biceps, his diamond studs catching the light. His signature gold Mega Man chain swinging from his neck. His walk? Smooth. Commanding. Unbothered. And every single person in that house knew who the king was. On the football field, he was a legend; in the world of Mega, he was a god. And the way he carried himself was nothing less than perfect.

The DJ recognized it, too.

BOOM.

The beat dropped hard. Immediately, “Blow the Whistle”

by Too Short blasted through the speakers. It was the MEGA’s signature anthem to stroll to. It pulled every member of the fraternity to the floor. They came running into the house the moment you heard the whistle sound.

“YOOOOOOO! MEGA MEN IN THE BUILDING!”

the DJ shouted over the track.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea, giving way as Yon got swept into the formation. The Megas lined up, stepping in sync, their stomp deep, sharp, and low to the floor. Gold boots hitting hard. Shoulders snapping.

couldn’t breathe. She’d seen him on the field. She’d seen him quiet, talking low in her ear. But this? This was something else.

He was powerful. The kind of man boys wrote raps about and girls daydreamed over. Confidence dripped from him like sweat, and when the line hit their signature move, dropping low, stomping hard, and licking their lips in unison, he did it again.

That damn lip lick.

’s knees damn near buckled.

“Oh my God,”

she whispered, clutching her cup with both hands.

Lala leaned into her ear, grinning.

“You good, sis? You look like you just got pregnant from across the room.”

Stormii wheezed.

“Girl, I saw the tongue and damn near passed out. about to slide down this wall!”

was frozen in place, heart thumping harder than the beat. In her eyes, he wasn’t just a star, he was a god. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. But when his eyes found hers in the crowd, and he gave her that nod, like she was the only person that mattered in that whole damn room…she knew. This wasn’t just a crush anymore.

As the final stomp hit and the crowd exploded into cheers, the Mega line broke, and Yon stepped out, chest rising and falling like he’d just scored the game-winning touchdown. Sweat glistened along his hairline, and that confident smirk never left his lips.

The crowd swarmed him—dap-ups, hugs, and people reaching out like they just needed to touch greatness to say they were there. But his eyes? They kept cutting back to one person.

Her.

stood rooted, clutching her drink like a shield as her heart rattled against her ribs.

“He’s coming over here,”

Lala said under her breath, nudging her.

“No he’s not,”

whispered, eyes wide.

Stormii rolled her eyes.

“Girl, yes he is. Brace yourself.”

Sure enough, Yon weaved his way through the chaos, ignoring hands tugging at his arm and people trying to stop him. His focus was locked.

On her.

He reached their corner, his energy shifting like a wave crashing to still water. Close-up, Yon looked even better—jawline sharp, eyes intense, and lips still curled in that subtle, sexy smirk.

“You saw that?”

he asked her, voice low, gravelly, and cocky with a twist of charm.

nodded, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah. You killed it.”

“I know,”

he said, grin spreading.

“But I was only dancing for one person.”

Lala let out a dramatic, “Oop!”

and Stormii giggled behind her cup.

blinked.

“That right?”

Yon leaned in, voice just for her now.

“You almost fainted when I licked my lips, didn’t you?”

Her eyes widened. “Boy…”

“Mmhm,”

he cut her off, chuckling.

“Don’t lie. I saw your knees buckle.”

She tried to recover with a smirk, “You think you all that?”

Yon stepped even closer, his hand brushing her waist.

“Nah. I know I am. But I wanna know if you think I’m all that.”

couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto her face, even as her stomach flipped. He wasn’t just flirting he was focused. Intentional. She could feel the heat coming off of him. Yon smelled like a million dollars. He stood there, staring at her. Even though the room around them pleaded for his attention, he only had eyes for her.

“Hey, ladies,”

Yon said to Stormii and Lala.

“Hey,”

they replied in unison, giggling.

“We’re going to give you two some space.”

Lala pulled Stormii and they walked away in search of anything other than the flirty behavior Yon and were engaged in.

Before she could fire back, the DJ dropped a new track, this one smooth, mid-tempo, just enough to sway. Without asking, Yon took her cup and set it down on the nearby ledge, then gently took her hand.

“You owe me a dance,” he said.

She bit her lip, nodded once, and let him lead her to the center of the room.

As the beat wrapped around them, his hand found her waist and pulled her close. He didn’t grind. He didn’t rush. He just moved with her, slow, in sync, like they’d done it a hundred times. Like this was their rhythm.

’s arms rested lightly on his shoulders, her gaze lifting to meet his.

“Yon,”

she said quietly, barely above the music.

“Yeah?”

“This is starting to feel like something,”

she whispered.

His hand slid up her back, warm and certain.

“That’s ‘cause it is.”