Greater Love: Let Love In, and Watch How It Changes You

(Page 1) Prologue

Never in a million years did I think I’d fall in love with her.

From our first conversation during freshman move-in, she seemed to hate everything about me. My friends, my sport, my personality. My compliments couldn’t put a smile on her face, and a simple gesture like walking her home wasn’t enough.

I tried not to care. Told myself she didn’t know me and her opinion didn’t matter. But with every conversation, she captivated me. She told it like it was. She was stubborn and difficult while being kind and loving and selfless all at the same time.

We’d spent our entire lives at the same schools. She lived twelve houses from mine in the same shitty neighborhood but was bound to escape it. She was smart, brilliant, and beautiful, and I’m sad it took so long for me to notice. In high school, she kept to herself and maybe had two friends.

You couldn’t find her at a game and definitely not at a party. She was the definition of a fly on the wall.

She could’ve gone anywhere—Yale, Princeton, Harvard— so I couldn’t help but be surprised when I found out she was the only other person from G-Heights, California, to pack

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her things and head to a historically black university in New York City—completely on the other side of the country.

I didn’t expect for my one true love to be her. Our path was never easy, but we were meant to walk it together.

My dad taught me that God makes soul mates for every- one, but I always thought, If that was true, why did he give men so many beautiful options? I thought finding one woman to spend your life with was impossible. I could barely keep a girl for a couple of months. I got bored, or a girl proved herself to be way too complicated, so I moved on to the next best thing. My own mom left before I even started think- ing about girls. Growing up, the first thing I learned about women was how selfish they could be. I believed that on top of complaining too much and almost always depending on their man to do everything, they usually ended up leaving when life got too hard.

Falling in love with Ryan let me know I had things completely wrong.

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Ryan

I wonder if anyone will notice I’m the only incoming fresh- man without a parent helping them move in.

My heart races and I start to sweat, seeing other girls getting out of their cars, hands full of boxes. Parents are dressed in Truth Dad or Truth Mom T-shirts with huge

“I’m so proud my child’s going to college” smiles, pushing mini fridges and microwaves in large moving carts. Mean- while, here I am watching a stranger pull my three suitcases out of a taxi that I had to scrounge coins together just to hire to get here.

Javon’s probably right. I’m almost three thousand miles away from home with no friends, no family, and no job to support me. My own father wasn’t about to give me the lit- tle cash he had. How am I supposed to survive in big, bad New York?

“D’you plan on getting out the car anytime soon?” said the taxi driver as he sets my last bag on the curb in front of his red Toyota Prius. “You’re wasting my gas.” He pauses, adding, “Not to mention my time.”

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I pull myself out of my thoughts and get out of the car, painfully handing him the fifty-two dollars it took to get here from the airport. The man rolls his eyes, snatches the money from my hand, jumps in the car without ever acknowledging my thank-you, and zooms down the street before I can even grab my bag.

Thanks for the welcome.

“Excuse me!”

I turn around to see a completely bald, golden-skinned woman running toward me with a clipboard.

“You’re a freshman, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile.

“Great!” she exclaims, “I’m De’Onna Brown . . . senior bio major from Dallas.” She reaches her hand out for me to shake, and I politely do. “I’m going to bring someone over with a cart to take your stuff up. Are your parents still looking for parking? I know it’s kind of crazy around here.”

“No. This is all I have.” Her words slap the fake smile off my face. It hasn’t been five minutes since I got here and she’s already hit me in the softest spot of my heart today. “I’ll carry my own stuff.”

“Girl, no!” She giggles. “We’ve got some big, strong guys from the football team ready to help you.” She turns around and motions one over. I grab my bags so I can bolt to the lobby without being disturbed, but a guy’s already running our way. “Can you help her with her bags?”

“Yeah, of course.” His voice is too familiar, and with every heavy step I recognize another part of him—his large, mus- cular body, round gut, sepia, almost copper-colored skin, and high cheekbones. He takes my bag, which looks miniature in his big, chubby hands, looking at me. Almond-shaped eyes grow into circles the second our eyes lock. “Ryan?”

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“You two know each other?”

In seconds, I’ve managed to lose more than 50 percent of my money and run into the exact type of person I’m trying to run away from. Here’s another nigga from my toxic little neighborhood. He was one of the star lineman on a football team full of men known for breaking hearts and hymens, adding to the list of black men who are solely worried about themselves. And he’s the first man I’m meeting in college? Just my fucking luck.

We weren’t friends then and weren’t going to be now. I’d escaped California to leave all that shit behind me. “Sorry. Do I know you?”

His eyes shift, and he almost looks sad. Or maybe it’s shock. “I’ve probably just seen you on GroupMe or some- thing. You’re from Cali too, right?”

I nod, kicking myself for having no idea what GroupMe is. “Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll let you two get to it,” De’Onna says. “Nice meeting you, Ryan. I’ll see you later, D.” She skips off to bother the next family before either of us can respond.

He’s already placed my bags in a large blue cart when I turn around to face him. They look pitiful, only furthering my embarrassment. “I’ll carry my own bags. You can spend your time helping someone with more stuff.”

“No can do. Coach is watching,” Devyn Baker, who I’m guessing now goes by D, nods across the street, where a three hundred-pound bald man with a swollen belly stares at us. He smiles and waves.

“You’re stuck with me,” Devyn says.

I roll my eyes and let him follow me to Harriet Hall, my new home. “Why didn’t you want De’Onna to know we know each other?”

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Devyn’s lived maybe twelve houses down from me since I was three years old. Fifteen years and we’ve probably exchanged fewer than five words. Girls in G-Heights tend to be outspoken, ready to fight when needed, and always ready to party. If this isn’t you, then you get passed by. That’s what happened to me while athletes like Devyn were supported in their endeavors to rise out of our own little version of hell. I hate any man who’s a part of that stupid mind-set.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “We just went to the same school. I don’t really know you.”

“We grew up near each other, Ryan. I’ve known you since we were kids.”

All these years “knowing” each other, and he’s never even looked my way. I force another smile onto my face, ready to do anything to get rid of him. “I guess you’re right, huh? My bad. I never thought of it that way.”

I walk into the lobby to check into my dorm, ignoring Devyn as he tries to stir up a conversation with the front desk lady. I would be living on the fourth floor in the oldest and cheapest dorm on campus. Another example of my luck today. I was even excited to get a roommate, but then the lady tells me that Harriet Hall has so many vacant rooms, everyone will get their own. So it’ll be twice as hard to make friends. Even better!

Devyn and I walk into the slow-ass elevator, extending my time with him. “This place is almost as bad as the ath- letic dorm.”

“Athletes? In shitty dorms? No one can convince me of that.”

“They’re apartments, so we have a kitchen and stuff, but shit barely works. Plus they’re ugly,” he says, making

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me laugh. “I didn’t think it was possible to put a smile on your face.”

The elevator opens at the perfect time, allowing me to get out of the compacted space. I unlock my door to see a room even uglier than I expected. White walls are chipped from floor to ceiling. An old desk stands against the wall between two twin XL beds with raggedy blue mattresses, and the navy carpet had obviously not been cleaned in years. Broken blinds hang loosely from the small window.

“Home,” Devyn jokes, walking into the room. He takes my things out of the cart.

“Let me help you.”

“I got it.” He laughs, setting the bags next to my desk. “Need help with anything else?”

I just want him to get out, but part of me is afraid to be alone. This place is hideous and dingy . . . not to mention dark. “I’m good, thanks.”

Nodding, Devyn grabs the cart and heads out of my room. “Hey.” He stops. “Why didn’t your dad help you move in?” Once my dad found out where I was going to college, his hatred for me only increased. The man has never helped me or given me money for lunch or a single piece of clothing, but when I begged him to help me a little with my college expenses, he refused. He’s all I have, and I can’t rely on him.

“I was gonna miss my flight waiting for him, so I left,” I half joke. Ironically, Devyn’s father had taken me to the air- port after catching me walking down our street with my bags at three o’clock this morning. I don’t know if Devyn knows, but if he does, I’ll act stupid right along with him. “Thanks again for helping out. I should start unpacking.”

“I’ll see you around?” Devyn asks. The slight look of pity that comes across his face only infuriates me. I give him one

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more of my award-winning fake smiles, slamming the door in his face.

After an hour of unpacking, I start to feel like I’m getting my life together. All I have to decorate my room is an orange- and-pink tribal print comforter, a small desk lamp, and a matching rug. Two pictures of my best friends from back home, Hope and Diana, adorn the desktop, and I hang the painting of Ava DuVernay, living idol and filmmaker, that they gave me as a going-away present. They’re the only part of home I’ll miss.

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Chapter 2

I spend the rest of the afternoon going over my class schedule. My goal is to maintain a 4.0 on top of fully supporting myself so I can prove to my father that I’m going to succeed no matter what. I don’t need him. My dreams of becoming the biggest black female screenwriter and producer isn’t optional. I have to make it.

At ten o’clock I have my first floor meeting, giving me a chance to mingle with all of my floormates. Unlike other colleges, Truth has a “no-freshman-weekend-parties” rule. Rumor is that last year almost fifteen kids were sent to the hospital with alcohol poisoning. I’m relieved, though, mainly because I’ve never been to a party before and don’t want to be alone in this scary dorm if I choose not to go.

Jordan, our RA, goes over housing rules, visitations, and the “family dinners” he’d be hosting for us once a week. I’m surprised to find out only five other people are on my floor. Nico, a poli sci major and the only other girl on the floor, is the first to spark up a conversation when she invites us all to hang out in her room after the meeting.

She kicks the door open, her large, bleach-blonde Afro swaying side to side as she prances into the room. “Make

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yourself at home, guys!” Her room is flamboyantly decorated with tapestries and lights on every wall. A red love seat sits in the corner and a DJ booth closed off by curtains is in another. She quickly made Harriet Hall her home, which I both envied and admired.

My other two floormates, Troy and Jakaida (Jay), and I all follow in behind her, amazed by what she’s done with the place. We listen carefully as she shows us around her dorm and plays one of her DJ mixes. We all get comfortable between her bed and the love seat, taking turns asking the group questions.

“What’s a random thing you’ve never done before?” Troy, a jazz major from northern California, asks us as he leans back on the fuzzy body pillows on Nico’s bed. “I’ve never gone surfing.”

I laughed. “I can second that one.”

“You can’t steal his, though! You’d think all Cali people are practically born on a surfboard,” Nico jokes, making me laugh. If only she knew. “I’ve never straightened my hair.”

“Ever?” Jay, the definition of a huge teddy bear, asks in his thick Texas accent.

“Nope!” Nico shakes her head as she leans back next to Troy. “I’ve dyed it. But no heat will ever touch this head.” She’s different than anyone I’ve ever met, with her pale, ivory skin, pouty lips, and round black eyes. “When I want some- thing different, I just go to my aunt’s braiding shop in Queens. She gets me right every time!”

“Okay, I’ve never . . .” Jay takes a minute to think of his answer. “Broken a bone.”

“I’ve never tried alcohol before,” I blurt out next, and I’m shocked when all of their heads turn to me.

“What?” Troy laughs. …