My Chocolate Crush

Like most girls my age, I like to party. And while I’m driven as a student, I’m not above balancing good times with my daily grind.

I finished high school two years ago, so it’s weekends and a few weekday evenings for me. I’m a sophomore; college is major, but my love interests suck. There’s boys. There just ain’t fire.

When I say there’s no “fire” I mean I don’t get out of breath and damp playing strip-poker, nor am I willing to say, “Aaaall done,” after their base man performance in the bedroom. No real reason to get graphic, but suffice it to say, there’s no joy in Dodgeville.

My friends would include my roommate, Mallory, aka Lo Lo, from Seattle. We were fast friends freshman year, so it was natural to take our relationship to the next level, living together, sophomore year. We got attention, and you would understand that if you saw Lo Lo. She’s beautiful! Tall, classy, all-American looking brunette with girl-next-door appeal.

My situation was a mirror image of hers.

In her case, she was

a) unselfish and

b) less hard on men than me, so she was more lucky.

Being alone, however, she expressed empathy for my situation, as well as general boredom with college nightlife. Coping mechanisms, healthy conversations…and we survived it together.

Truth is living in a dorm populated by every variety of student was fun. Yeah, using showers and bathrooms and lounges on every floor can get old, but you meet so many varieties of characters. It was coed, so there was drama. Inter-floor hook-ups and halts and guys wondering if you’ll notice them walking by their suite in your bathrobe, etc. I was a little past that stuff sophomore year, but I enjoyed watching out for the new babies.

There was Jayden, too. Jayden Okoro.

Jayden was different from the other freshmen, being the son of Nigerian immigrants. It might be passé for a modern girl to describe a Black man as different, but it was and is the reality at my university, even today—a majority of white and Asian minorities. The small black population sticks together—a by-product of cutthroat, cliqued-up campus life—but Jayden has always belonged anywhere, hung with anyone, and immediately emerged as the leader.

He’s smart and charismatic, usually laid back. “Usually” because Jayden isn’t just smooth; he’s also scary. He had a maturity beyond the other freshmen, too, so he was soon among the dorm leaders.

I met Jayden for the first time when Mallory and I moved into our dorm for sophomore year. My father and brother handled the heavy lifting, but after they left, we got down to the mission of setting up house.

A tall Black man, as in cut from black stone, made out in blue jeans and a form-fit T-shirt, strolled past our open door. He checked us out on the way by, then did a double-take as he noticed us struggling to move boxes.

With a smile, he joined us without hurry. Obvi, he introduced himself as “Jay,” then made quick work of our decorating plans.

Jayden was handsome and secure. He was charming, too—making us giggle with partnerships—never saying anything bawdy. Poise! We admired his NFL-worthy butt on the way out, mouthing each other “WOW!” before launching into fits of laughter. He was a hot tamale!

Jayden and I quickly became friends and were soon referred to as mentor and protégé. As if I was his big sister. Odd, maybe, because I was less than a year older than him and white, but people chortled.

I’d tell him the best way to do things, correct him if he made a mistake, give him guidance on how to interact with teachers and officials, warn him to “be safe” when he hits the streets, etc.

He called me “Sis” a couple times. The references were always made in jest, but I recognized them for what they were. I loved Jayden like a protector, too. Go figure.

Did Jayden need a guardian fucking angel? I was curious to discover, what was I protecting him from? The answer was obvious, as I learned from Lo Lo. I was protecting myself.

I was desirous with a lump in my throat for Jayden, and I was defusing unwieldy feelings out of self-preservation. Or I was jealous of girls who paid attention to him. And boy, did they!

Jayden developed a reputation. It was inevitable because of his good looks and alpha-man demeanor. I didn’t see him in the company of girls romantically, but rumors were soon afoot about Jayden, his “gift,” and his “harem.” His suite was located down the hall, and I’d hear odd sounds, or girls would come and go.

I became motivated by jealousy, which peaked at times where I just wanted to hump him! I defined myself as a non-carnal friend, so I endured a lack of sensual satisfaction, then later, chagrin. Later, I became intimidated by Jayden and his unbreakable will. I s