Page 22 of Blake University: HBCU Chronicles – Yon & Imole

stood outside the Alumni Hall entrance, adjusting the cuff of his navy-blue tailored blazer, trying not to glance at his phone every thirty seconds. He wasn’t usually nervous. He’d faced entire defensive lines without flinching. But waiting for Imole to show up had him checking his reflection in every damn window he passed.

Then he saw her.

Imole walked across the quad like the wind had been assigned to follow her. Her blush-pink dress glowed in the morning light, the soft sway of her curls catching every ray of sun. For a moment, forgot where he was. He couldn’t hear the brunch music or the murmurs of alumni talking about past championships. All he could see was her.

“Damn,”

he muttered under his breath, unable to keep the smile off his face as she got closer.

“Hey,”

she greeted softly, returning his smile with one of her own that made his chest tighten.

“You look… incredible,”

he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“I mean, I was already proud to walk in with you, but now I might need security.”

Imole blushed, looping her arm with his as they walked toward the event.

The brunch was being held under a massive white tent on the Alumni lawn, decked out in BU blue and gold. Round tables were covered with crisp linens and floral centerpieces, the air buzzing with old stories and loud laughter. The moment they walked in, heads turned.

led her confidently to his family’s table. His father, Dawson Jr., stood up as they approached.

“Pops, this is Imole,”

said, watching his father’s eyes appraise her with measured approval.

“Pleasure to meet you,”

Mr. Dawson said, extending a hand.

“Heard my boy’s been spending more time in the library lately. Guess I can thank you for that.”

Imole chuckled and shook his hand.

“He does most of the work. I just helped a little.”

His father grinned.

“Modest and pretty. I like her already.”

's mother, Vanessa Dawson, was less warm. She smiled politely, but her eyes were cool, scanning Imole like she was trying to place her.

“Nice to meet you,”

she said flatly, barely disguising her judgment.

was just about to steer Imole toward her seat when Shawna appeared.

“Hi, Mama D!”

she chirped, sliding into the open chair beside Mrs. Dawson like she belonged there.

Imole’s body stiffened just slightly. felt it immediately and tightened his grip on her hand.

“Shawna,”

he said coolly.

“Hello, sweetheart,”

his mother replied, practically beaming.

“I invited Shawna to join us. After all, she’s been like family for years.”

Shawna’s smile was fake as a plastic rose. She looked Imole up and down, then back to Vanessa.

“You didn’t tell me was bringing a guest,”

she said sweetly, before turning to Imole.

“Hope you don’t feel out of place. This is usually our table.”

felt the temperature in his blood rise. Imole stayed calm, her expression composed.

“I’m not worried about usual,”

Imole replied, her voice smooth.

“I’m here for what’s current.”

Mr. Dawson nearly choked on his mimosa. Vanessa lifted her glass, eyebrows raised.

couldn’t help it, he laughed, turning his full attention to Imole with admiration glowing in his eyes.

“She’s different,”

he said, as if reminding them all including himself that this wasn’t the past but something he could see in his future.

Shawna rolled her eyes and muttered just loud enough for the table to hear, “Yeah, different alright. Different like temporary.”

That was it.

stood, placing his napkin neatly on the table.

“Excuse us.”

He took Imole’s hand and helped her up, ignoring Shawna’s smug grin and his mother’s subtle gasp.

They walked in silence through the tented crowd, ’s jaw tight as he led her to the garden behind the event space.

“I’m sorry about that,”

he finally said, looking down at her with genuine frustration.

“She had no right to talk to you like that.”

“It’s okay,”

Imole replied, squeezing his hand.

“She’s not my problem.”

“She will never be your problem,”

he said firmly.

“You’re here because I want you here. And I don’t care who don’t like it even if it’s my mama.”

Imole smiled gently, brushing her fingers along his jaw.

“You don’t have to fight for me, . I’m good.”

“I know you are,”

he said, stepping closer, voice dropping low.

“But I’m still gonna fight. Because you’re mine.”

And just like that, she leaned in and kissed him.

There was no crowd. No family. No Shawna. Just the quiet corner of the BU Alumni garden, and the start of something that felt like more than just a college romance. Something Imole only dreamt about.