The Way She Said My Name

The Sound Before the Heat

Aziyah & Kenya

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The first thing Aziyah noticed about Oakwood University wasn't the campus.
It was the sound.

Music pulsed through the air, somebody's speaker blasting Summer Walker loud enough to shake the sidewalk. Down by the lawn, a group of Alphas were stepping like it was homecoming week. Laughter spilled from every direction, the smell of honey, shea butter, and cafeteria fries blending into something that felt familiar even though it was all brand new.

This was an HBCU, and it showed. Loud. Alive. Too hot for comfort, but somehow still perfect.

Aziyah adjusted the clear storage bin on her hip and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Her mom had offered to help her move in, but she said no. She needed to do this on her own. New city, new chapter, new version of herself.

The dorm was chaos. Girls running down the hallway with edge control and hair dryers, somebody's cousin yelling over FaceTime, another blasting City Girls from a Bluetooth speaker. Aziyah squeezed through with a muttered "excuse me," her locs brushing her shoulders, her gold chain tapping her collarbone with every step.

Her room was small but bright. One bed already covered in pink throw blankets and Polaroids, the other completely bare. Empty for now. She dropped her bin on the floor and let out a quiet breath.

Finally.

Her phone buzzed on the desk.

[Jada 💅🏽]: You on campus yet?
[Aziyah]: yea. sweating like a sinner in church but i'm here.
[Jada 💅🏽]: LMAO you gon love it fr. just wait til welcome week. everybody fine as hell.
[Aziyah]: we'll see about that.

Aziyah smiled to herself. Her cousin Jada had been hyping Oakwood for months, swearing it was full of "the finest studs and the baddest fems." Aziyah wasn't here for all that, though. She wanted a clean slate. No drama, no distractions, no heartbreak.

Still, part of her—some restless, curious part—wondered what kind of people she'd meet here.

Kenya was already watching the crowd before noon hit.

She leaned against her car, a plain white tee sticking just enough to her skin under the heat, grey sweats hanging low on her hips. Simple, clean. The kind of casual that still made people look twice.

"Move-in day is wild," she said, half to herself, half to Malik standing beside her.

He handed her a cold bottle of water and scanned the crowd. "Whole lotta chaos, whole lotta fine girls."

Kenya smirked. "You said that last year."

"And was I wrong?"

She laughed under her breath, twisting the cap open. Oakwood always came alive like this—music, heat, energy, and the kind of people who made trouble feel like an art form.

"You living in Hall C again?" Malik asked.

"Yup. Same room."

He gave her a look. "Try not to start no mess this year."

Kenya smirked. "I don't start it. I just finish it."

By the time Aziyah came back down for her last bin, the elevator was packed. She sighed and leaned against the wall, scrolling through her phone. Her shirt clung to her skin, and her hairline glistened in the humidity.