College Daze
The air was alive — that unmistakable Homecoming energy that only FAMU could create. The Yard was packed shoulder to shoulder with students, alumni, Greeks, and vendors. The bass from the DJ booth rolled through the crowd like thunder, and everywhere you looked were splashes of orange and green, gold and black, crimson and cream — tradition layered on legacy.
Tyriq adjusted the collar of his black-and-gold Alpha Phi Alpha line jacket, embroidered with his line name “Visionary” across the back. He had that calm confidence about him — the kind that came from knowing he’d earned every letter, every stitch. But today, his focus wasn’t on flexing for photos or dap-ups from his frat brothers. He was looking for her.
“Yo, you seen Aliyah?” he asked his prophyte, who was holding a plate of jerk chicken and laughing with a group of sorors.
“Aliyah?” the brother smirked. “You talkin’ about your Aliyah? Bro, you know the Deltas been deep by the fountain all morning. Check over there.”
Tyriq nodded, flashing that trademark half-grin before weaving through the crowd. The sun hit just right — glinting off the gold letters stitched on his sleeve as he moved. Phones were out, people were shouting him out for his last Homecoming as a student — “Yo, Withers! Senior year, my boy!” — but he wasn’t hearing any of it.
His eyes were scanning the sea of people for one thing: that crimson jacket.
Aliyah Carter. Delta Sigma Theta, Spring ‘24 line. Smart, fierce, and beautiful in that way that made people stop mid-sentence. She’d been his girl since sophomore year, the kind of love that felt like both a partnership and a challenge — iron sharpening iron.
He spotted her across the Yard — laughing with her line sisters, sunlight catching on the DST jacket embroidered with her name and her number: #7 “Heartbreaker.” Her hair was pulled back into a high puff, edges laid, and she was wearing the smallest gold anklet — the one he bought her.
For a second, he just stood there, soaking it in. The way she carried herself, the confidence, the pride — everything about her screamed FAMU excellence.
Then he started walking.
The crowd parted almost naturally, people giving him daps or moving aside as the Alpha and the Delta locked eyes from across The Yard. The DJ switched the track to something smoother — “Before I Let Go” by Maze featuring Frankie Beverly — and the crowd cheered, waving their hands in the air.
Aliyah saw him before he reached her. Her lips curved into that teasing smirk he knew too well.
“I was wondering when my favorite Alpha was gonna show up,” she said, crossing her arms but unable to hide her smile.
“Had to make an entrance,” he replied, brushing invisible lint off his jacket. “You know the senior send-off gotta be legendary.”
Her line sisters giggled behind her, whispering to each other. Tyriq extended a hand, palm up — playful, confident.
“Come walk with me,” he said.
“You asking or telling, Withers?” she teased, still holding his gaze.
“Both,” he grinned.
She finally slipped her hand into his, her red-painted nails contrasting with the gold stitching of his jacket. Together, they walked through The Yard — Alpha and Delta, campus royalty in motion. People watched, nodded, smiled.
“So,” Aliyah said, looking up at him. “What’s next after graduation, Mister Senior?”
“Still figuring that out,” he admitted. “But right now? I’m just tryna make sure my last FAMU Homecoming is with you.”
She smiled softly, shaking her head as they reached the fountain — their usual spot since sophomore year.
“You really saying all the right things today, huh?” she said.
“I’m an Alpha,” he smirked. “We were built for this.”
She laughed — that full, bright laugh that made every long night and every argument worth it. And for a moment, in the middle of all the chaos, music, and heat, it was just them — two students who had grown up together under the orange and green lights, holding on to a piece of history before the world called them forward.
-
The music on The Yard was still booming — laughter, bass, and the constant energy of reunion — but Tyriq and Aliyah had drifted away from the crowd, finding their own quiet corner behind the old fountain near the Eternal Flame.
The air was cooler here, the sound of splashing water muffling the chaos from the rest of campus. Streetlights cast a soft orange glow across the brick path, catching the gold accents on Tyriq’s Alpha Phi Alpha jacket and the crimson lettering of her Delta Sigma Theta one.
They stood there for a moment — not saying much, just taking in the stillness.
Then Aliyah broke it.
“You been MIA prior to this week,” she said softly, looking up at him, her voice calm but edged with truth.
Tyriq’s jaw flexed. He glanced away for a second, rubbing the back of his neck before answering.
“Yeah… I know,” he said finally. “I’ve been moving a lot — trying to finish senior projects, football, job interviews, trying to figure out what’s next.”
She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in that way that told him she wasn’t buying the surface-level answer.
“Tyriq, I get all that,” she said. “But you didn’t just go ghost on campus — you went ghost on me.”
That hit.
He sighed, stepping closer until he was right in front of her. The distance between them was small, but the silence in it was heavy.
“Aliyah… I ain’t mean to disappear. I just—”
He paused, trying to find the right words. “Sometimes it feels like everything’s moving faster than I can keep up. Everybody’s got expectations — the bros, the coaches, my professors, my people at home. I didn’t wanna bring you into that mess while I was trying to figure my own head out.”
Aliyah crossed her arms, lips pursed. She wasn’t angry — just disappointed.
“You don’t get to decide what I can handle,” she said quietly. “If we’re really together, I’m supposed to be there while you figure it out. That’s how this works.”
Her words hit deep. Tyriq nodded slowly, the guilt settling in his chest like weight. He reached out, fingers brushing the sleeve of her jacket.
“You right,” he admitted. “And I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t part of the picture. That’s not what I wanted. You’re—”
He stopped himself, looking her dead in the eyes.
“You’re my balance, Li. When everything else gets loud, you’re the one thing that feels real.”
She blinked, caught between frustration and the warmth of hearing the truth. The fountain splashed softly behind them, the night breeze moving just enough to lift the hem of her jacket.
“Then don’t shut me out next time,” she said finally.
“I won’t,” he promised. “Not again.”
For a moment, they just stood there, close enough to feel each other breathe. Then Aliyah stepped forward and rested her hands against his chest, the DST letters brushing against the Alpha crest on his jacket.
“You look good, though,” she murmured, half teasing now. “That jacket’s dangerous.”
He smirked, leaning down just enough for his breath to ghost against her ear.
“You know you like it,” he said.
“I do,” she said, smiling. “But I like the man under it better.”
Tyriq chuckled quietly, the tension between them melting into something softer — something that felt like coming home.
“Then I guess I better make sure he shows up more often,” he said.
Aliyah looked up at him again, eyes glinting under the light.
“Yeah,” she said, voice steady. “You better.”
And when the next wave of music swelled from the Yard — Frankie Beverly fading into Lil Baby — Tyriq took her hand, intertwining their fingers. They didn’t need to say anything else. The silence between them wasn’t distance anymore — it was peace.
-
Aliyah’s fingers were still tangled with Tyriq’s when the sound of her phone buzzed against her jacket pocket. The vibration broke the stillness like a ripple through calm water. She glanced down, then sighed softly when she saw the name flashing across the screen.
It was Maya, her line sister.
“Of course,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head a little.
Tyriq raised an eyebrow.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” she said, already knowing what the call meant. “They’ve been blowing up my phone since I left The Yard. We’re supposed to be meeting for the step show lineup.”
She looked back at him — that mix of duty and reluctance on her face. She didn’t want to go, not when they had finally started to talk, to really talk.
Tyriq nodded slowly, reading her hesitation.
“You should go,” he said quietly. “Don’t let me mess up your line business.”
“You’re not messing it up,” she said quickly. “It’s just—”
Her words faded when Maya called again, her ringtone echoing faintly under the hum of the fountain.
Aliyah exhaled and hit decline, just for a second. She turned back to Tyriq, eyes searching his face like she wanted to memorize it.
“You always do this,” she said softly. “Say the right thing, make me feel everything—and then life pulls me away before I can even process it.”
Tyriq smiled faintly, though there was a bit of sadness behind it.
“Then I guess that’s how you know it’s real,” he said. “’Cause even when life pulls you away, you still feel it.”
That made her pause. For a heartbeat, she just stared at him — eyes warm, expression softening. Then, finally, she reached up and adjusted the collar of his Alpha jacket.
“You need to stop saying things like that,” she said quietly. “You’re gonna make it hard to leave.”
“That’s kind of the point,” he murmured.
She laughed under her breath, that quiet, genuine sound that always made him feel at ease. Then her phone buzzed again — this time a text from Maya:
“Li, we’re on stage in 15. Move!”
Aliyah sighed and finally pulled back, slipping her phone into her jacket pocket.
“I gotta go,” she said reluctantly.
“I know,” Tyriq replied. “Go kill it. I’ll be in the crowd.”
She smiled at that, already picturing him cheering from the stands.
“You better be. And if I don’t see you, I’m calling you out during the stroll.”
“You wouldn’t,” he grinned.
“Try me,” she teased, flashing that dimpled smile before turning away.
Tyriq watched her walk off, the red of her jacket standing out like a flame against the crowd as she disappeared back toward The Yard.
He exhaled, running a hand down his face and glancing up at the sky, the faint hum of laughter and music rolling over the campus.
“Senior year,” he muttered to himself with a small smile. “Gotta make it count.”
Then he turned toward the direction of the step show, the sound of the Deltas’ chant starting to echo in the distance — and for a moment, all he could think about was her voice, her laugh, and the way she said his name when it was just them.
