“PHI RHO. PHI RHO! WHERE WE GO, LEGACY GROWS!”
The energy shifted, the crowd moved, and just like that, the noise behind the Vetas turned into whispers and sideway glances because The Phi’s had entered the building. Theyweren’t just a frat…They were a presence. Black tees. Matching pants. Black Timbs stomping like war drums. They moved through the crowd like they owned time, but the two men leading were the show-stoppers.
Nuri’s breath caught, lips parting like they forgot how to hold composure when she saw Memphis and Professor Silas Sullivan. She’d known he was Phi. Had heard the whispers. Had seen the old throwback photos on the frat wall in the student union, but seeing him perform was something different.
With that crisp fade, and a black tee stretched over a frame that did not belong to a professor. Jaw clenched, gold ring glinting on his finger as he threw up his sign and stepped in rhythm like this was muscle memory. He did something to Nuri and hadn’t laid one finger on her.
Professor Sullivan wasn’t even watching the crowd. He was locked in. Movements, sharp. Precision deadly, and the second he felt her eyes on him; he looked up and their eyes locked. This time… it wasn’t curiosity. It was heat… Heat that traveled right between her thighs, making her clit thump in a way that made her yearn to be closer to him.Shit.Nuri’s lips parted just enough for a small breath to escape, but her stare stayed. She didn’t see the rest of The Phi’s. Didn’t hear the crowd anymore. All that existed was him, right there, moving like a man who knew he was being watched… and didn’t mind feeding the flame.
Bre whispered beside her, low and playful. “Girl, gone over there and talk to that man”
Nuri couldn’t respond.
Didn’t even flinch.
Because when Professor Sullivan dropped into that last step, looked her dead in the eyes, and smirked like he already knew how she tasted—her body betrayed her. Pulse quickened. Legs tightened, and her pussy pulsed again. Hard. She clenched her jaw and looked away before she lost all sense of composure.
That man was lethal.Not in the way boys on campus liked to play pretend. Professor Sullivan moved like a man who’d already broken things that were once whole. Who knew how to fuck you without ever touching you. Who could ruin your focus with a look and leave you needing answers.
Approximately Three Hours Later…
Nuri had made her rounds at the pep rally and was ready to switch gears. She and Bre had plans to go out afterwards. The energy inside theBlake Universitygym was still alive, and humming with leftover adrenaline, phone flashes, and applause. What started as a stroll became so much more—it was unspoken, but they were building a legacy, femininity, and deepening their sisterhood. Nuri felt it in her bones, the way the gym walls held every echo of their steps like scripture. The way cameras flashed like stars from the bleachers. The way individuality and intention shared the same air. One last time theVETA’Slined up.
No grand intro.
No dramatic chant.
Just presence.
TheVETA’Sweren’t here to prove anything. They already had. Nuri stood at the head of the line, ready to give everyone something to remember until their next performance at the block party. Her hair and makeup was still flawless despite the heat, and her spirit… full. Not loud. Not boastful.
Just full.
Bre gave her a quiet glance—that said, “You good?”
Nuri just nodded.
The music was slower this time. Mellow bass, soft hi-hats, the kind of beat that made you move with intention instead of impact. They strolled like silk. Soft steps, shoulder dips, alittle sway in the hips that wasn’t meant for attention, just balance. It was a love letter to themselves. Every turn was familiar. Every glance over the shoulder, every synchronized glide—it was all muscle memory. They weren’t performing. They wereremembering.And when the last beat dropped, and their formation stilled into that clean finish, the applause didn’t matter as much as the exhale that came with it.
“We don’t break. We don’t bend. We walk in grace, we lead, we trend. Crimson blood, black soul, gold crown—If we rise, we rise loud. If we fall, we fall proud. This line is legacy. This line is love. Forged in fire. Watched from above. Veta XI-VX—forever in motion. We speak in steps. We move in devotion. We don’t just wear this… we are this. Every breath, every beat…V-E-T-A!”
The sun sat boldly in the sky, warm and honey-colored; spreading itself across the campus like a curtain. Nuri walkedwith no real urgency, but still with purpose. With Starbucks in one hand, shades tucked on the collar of her crop tee, her mane caught the wind just enough to remind her that she looked damn good. She was never one who craved attention, but always got it anyway. Nuri was halfway to the psych building when the shift happened.
The music changed, the crowd got louder, and the energy thickened like something electric was about to spark. As she maneuvered through the crowd, she noticed a step battle had broken out near the fountain. ThePhi’son one side. TheMegason the other. Black boots and deep chants. Chest bumps. Dust rising off the concrete as the crowd circled tight. Loud, wild, and magnetic was a major understatement. Nuri paused for a second, just long enough to enjoy the show before continuing to class.
Nuri walked into Advanced Psych ten minutes early, not because she needed to prove anything, but because silence always felt sweeter before the world started talking. The room was dim, filtered with morning light that slipped in through the blinds like a secret. She chose her seat two rows from the front, right by the window. Nuri didn’t care about appearing the smartest in the class, she didn’t always feel like participating. However, she always made it her business to sit close enough to catch everything without being expected to respond; and of course to secretly lust after Professor Sullivan.
There was never a dull moment in Professor Sullivan’s class, he had a fire-ass personality, and everyone loved his class. Pens tapped. Laptops opened. Multiple conversations whispered in low tones that faded as more students wandered in. Butterflies squirmed in the pit of Nuri’s stomach when she thought back to the pep rally. The energy that passed between her and Professor Sullivan was so fucking electrifying. She hadn’t seen him since, but was interested to see if she’d get that same feeling againwhen their eyes locked.Shit is crazy… this nigga got me chasing a feeling, and I ain’t even felt the dick yet. Lord help.
Professor Sullivan walked in two minutes late like time bowed to him and not the other way around.
No excuse.
No rush.
Just smooth, calculated steps like his presence came with its own weight.
His low caesar, jet black waves laid so smooth they looked airbrushed on his scalp. He had the type of cut that spoke volumes, there was no doubt his barber was like that, and his appointments stayed booked.
