Page 44 of Collateral Love
She didn’t explain where she was going, and that pissed me the fuck off.
I stayed sitting there long after they walked off.
I didn’t recognize this green-eyed monster on my back. I was pacing around campus.
I knew I should take my ass home, get some pussy, and some food. But as I scrolled through my Blackberry deciding which girl I would fuck tonight, I got angrier.
What if YaYa was fuckin’ this corny ass Nigga?
I went to the dining hall and gave the older Black lady at the front desk the biggest smile I could muster.
“Hi Miss Joyce, how you doin’ tonight?”
She smiled brightly. “You just as handsome and polite as you wanna be, Zayden.”
“Where’s Kenya? You know I’m technically not supposed to let the guest eat without the student on the plan.”
“She’s on a date, Miss Joyce.”
She gasped. “Oh, honey. Gone and get some food.”
I walked into the dining hall and grabbed a plate full of food. I looked around at the college kids in their sweatpants, hoodies,and Nike slides. They laughed loudly and had no cares in the world.
That pissed me the fuck off even more. Kenya wasn’t like these clowns and the one she was out with tonight.
I scarfed down my food and decided I was being creepy sitting on her campus waiting for her. If she didn’t want a Nigga, I would take my ass back to Crestwood and chill with a bitch that did.
As I walked out of the dining hall, head bowed and feeling raw, Miss Joyce yelled my name.
“Zayden, she’s yours. Go get your girl.”
Joyce’s voice felt motherly. My own mother was heavy in the streets before she got sick. She moved more coke than any King Pin I knew. She didn’t discuss feelings or crushes. Ms Joyce’s voice gave me permission.
That night, I found out his name.
Jordan Hale.
Business major.
Junior.
He lived on the third floor of Alder Hall, room 312. Corner room. The window facing the quad as if he wanted to be seen.
I waited until after midnight.
The campus changed after midnight. The noise died. The fake safety settled in. Security got lazy. Students got brave.
I parked two blocks out and walked the rest of the way, hoodie up, hands loose, breathing slow.
Jordan came back, and I was relieved when he entered his room alone without my YaYa.
He was laughing into his phone, drunk enough to feel important but sober enough to remember what happened next. He swiped into the dorm, shoulder-checking the door as if he owned it. I followed.
He didn’t hear me until the door to his room closed.
That click was final.
“Ayo,” I said.
