by Claire Adams
In the second quarter, Valley State started to work on catching up, executing quick steals and going on the defense to keep our team from scoring more points. If they could outlast us, then they could make up the point deficit in the second half. Devon managed to score two more baskets, but the onward press had slowed down, and both teams were jockeying for position. A groan went through the crowd as one of the players on our side went down; the refs didn’t rule it a foul, since he had tripped, but it was still a minor shockwave through the stands at the harsh crash of the player onto the floor of the court. He limped off into the sidelines, replaced by a fresh player. He wasn’t the only one to be cycled out; it seemed like everyone except for Miles and Devon managed to get put in and taken out as our team tried to get farther ahead in points, tried to break through the tough defense.
By halftime, we were still ahead, but it was clear that Valley State was pushing to get the advantage. I watched as the players left the court, heading into the lockers to rest for a little while, get some water in them, and talk about the second half of the game—and how they were going to get an indisputable win. The cheerleaders went into their routines, but I couldn’t bring myself to pay attention to them. I was wondering what Devon was doing specifically in the locker; I pictured him in my mind, huddled in the locker, drinking water and Gatorade, listening to the coach as he caught his breath. They didn’t dare take him out in the second half—Devon was the key, he was the most aggressive scorer on the team. I thought that if I were the coach, I’d put some more defense-oriented players on the court alongside Devon, and just work on keeping Valley State from scoring any points at all as much as possible. If Devon and Miles could make a few more baskets, and hold onto the lead they already had, they would be in great shape. It wouldn’t be a high-scoring game, but it was just important to win after all.
The teams came back out, and I watched to try and figure out what each team’s strategy was going to be. Devon and Miles took the court once more, and I saw that the coach had put in some of the most aggressive offense players at the same time. I smiled to myself; they were going to try and just score as many times as humanly possible in the third quarter, create a lead that Valley State could never possibly hope to catch up to—that was clear. I wondered how Valley was going to counter that strategy.
The game resumed, and I was on my feet once more, cheering, watching Devon. One of the other players stole the ball right before Valley State’s forward could get his shot; he passed to Miles, who passed to Devon. But before Devon could make his shot, Valley State stole the ball back. I listened to the cheers ebbing and flowing around me, as the ball moved from one end of the court to the other, all of the players throwing their entire being into the act.
After the jockeying for position, Devon broke through the Valley State team play, scoring a three-point shot; Miles stole the ball and got it to him again, and Devon landed a two-point basket, putting us even more comfortably ahead. I screamed my head off, beyond even caring about Devon as a person I had had sex with—I was completely wrapped up in the game itself, in the excitement of it all. The third quarter ended with us twelve points ahead of Valley State, and we were all fairly sure that there was little that Valley could do to keep us from winning.
The fourth quarter came, and it was clear to everyone that Valley was desperate for the win. They pressed the offense, and to my relief, our team’s coach put out more defensive players, giving Devon a break on the sidelines. I was too busy watching him to pay attention to the game for a few minutes—he was dripping with sweat, his curly hair plastered down onto his skull. I had to admit to myself that he looked even better in his jersey than he had the night before in regular clothes. He was definitely in great shape—and I blushed to myself, remembering the sight of him naked.
Valley State scored three baskets, but our team came out ahead, scoring another three before the end of the game. Everyone on my side of the arena was screaming, cheering, and jumping up and down—me included. Nobody wanted the game to be over, and as the team celebrated on the court, everyone celebrated with them except for the Valley State fans; they began to filter out of the arena almost immediately.
The adrenaline was still flowing through my veins, making my heart pound, and I watched as Devon and the other players ran around, basking in the cheers, enjoying themselves. I knew that it would probably be a while before the coach could convince them to go back to the lockers, and I had to admit that I didn’t want the night to be over either. I wanted to stay right where I was, cheering until I was hoarse, jumping up and down with everyone else. I didn’t even mind the fact that there were dozens of girls in the stands right with me, calling out Devon’s name, trying to get his attention. For the moment, everything was right with the world, and I was more than happy to be there.
Chapter Nine
After a while, even the most aggressive of the fans were starting to get tired; it was a Saturday, so there were plenty of parties to adjourn to. I had to think that there was probably a party going on in at least one of the frats or the sororities—maybe even Phi Kappa itself. I looked around, trying to spot anyone I recognized from the party the night before; but people were moving around too much for me to be able actually to identify anyone.
I wished again that at least one of my friends had been able to make it to the game with me; none of them really knew very much about basketball, but it would have been great to have someone to cheer with, someone to talk to. On the other hand, I was glad to be by myself; I didn’t want anyone who would notice I was paying special attention to Devon as he played.
Everyone began to wander out of the arena, and I sat down, a little torn as to what to do with myself. I wanted to talk to Devon—I knew that. But I didn’t know how I should go about doing it. I tried to tell myself that there would probably be dozens of girls waiting for him, that it would be difficult to get his attention. But then, I thought, he had singled me out the night before; he had been so good to me.
I wanted to know exactly what our relationship was. I wanted to know whether I had just been some kind of one-night stand for Devon, or if his attention to me had been something legitimate. I remembered everything my friends had told me about him, but I couldn’t make up my mind whether or not to credit what they had said. The only fair way to decide how to feel about Devon was to talk to him, but the thought of it made me nervous.
More and more people began to filter out of the stands, and I watched as the guys on the court finally left, still calling out to each other, still obviously as excited as anyone could be about winning. Even if it had been a fairly easy game, all things considered—a good game, not no-contest, but they had stayed ahead the entire time—it was still a win, which was exciting for everyone.
I watched Devon disappear into the locker area and wondered how best to get him alone. There would probably be a lot of people who wanted to meet him, talk to him. I tried to think of whether I should just wait outside, or whether I should track down the other entrance into the locker rooms. I had never done it before; I had always just gone back to the dorms after the end of the games, or sometimes, if anyone had come with me, I let myself get talked into going to a post-game party.
I pictured Devon in the showers and shivered at the mental image. It was only too easy to remember what he looked like naked. Imagining him with water sluicing down his body was even hotter. For a few moments, I sat there thinking about what it would be like to sneak in after a practice or after everyone else had left—and join him in the shower. I was still tender from the night before, but I was more than ready for more sex with him if there was any chance of it.
I had been to the arena several times, but I had never tried to find the lockers; if Devon was hurrying off to a party—which even if nothing else about him was true, I had to think he probably was—then he’d most likely shower as fast as he could, get changed, and leave.
I left the stands and wandered around, losing my way around the arena. Everything
in the concessions was shutting down, the last few people heading for the exits. I didn’t want to ask where the locker rooms were; that seemed like it would be too obvious. So instead I tried to look like I was just wandering around, no particular goal in mind, just enjoying the arena after the game. I knew it was probably pathetic, but I didn’t have much else to really fall back on. There were some girls heading for the exits in Sealy jerseys, their faces painted with stripes of the school colors, looking a little disappointed; I hoped that didn’t mean that he had already left.
I finally found the lockers after making my way around what seemed like the entire arena. I had a false-start where I ended up in front of the visitor lockers—until I saw one of the other players come out, heading for the back of the arena and their bus. It was obvious I was in the wrong place, but I knew I couldn’t have been far; a few more steps and I was finally in the right spot.
I was surprised that there weren’t more people hanging around, waiting for the players to come out. I had thought that the reporters at least would be buzzing and milling around, looking for quotes, but there were only a couple. Someone commented that the rest had had the credentials to go into the lockers themselves, and had gotten their quotes and hurried off.
“Great game,” I said as Miles came out. He stopped and grinned at me.
“Thanks,” he replied.
“That steal from Evans in the third quarter was epic. I can’t believe you pulled it off.” Miles laughed.
“I couldn’t believe it either! And no foul. It was close.” We chatted for a while, and I watched as the other players started to filter out, headed to parties or back to their dorms or frats for the night. Miles told me he was going to an Omega Phi party and asked if I had any plans. I told him I was probably just going to head back to the dorms.
“The night is young, though,” I said with a little grin. “You never know.” He laughed and gave me another grin before saying he had to head off. I stood off to the side, not trying to be too obvious; I watched as more and more of the players came out, making a beeline for the exit. It was obvious from their conversations as they walked past me that they were all going to different parties, and I hoped that Devon wasn’t in too much of a hurry to get to a party of his own. I hoped that I’d be able to talk to him for at least a couple of minutes.
As my waiting dragged on, I started to doubt myself; was I being stupid, hanging out like this? If I’d had Devon’s number—if I had thought to get it from him—I could have just texted him to find out what he was going to be up to after the game. I thought about how crushing it would be if he saw me and then pretended like he didn’t even know who I was, like the girls had said he usually did. At least I won’t be making a scene because there’s practically no one here anymore, I thought to myself, looking around nervously. If Devon didn’t come out soon, they’d start locking up the arena, and I’d be kicked out without even having a chance to talk to him. But I decided to wait anyway.
Chapter Ten
After another fifteen minutes, having seen everyone—even the coaches—leave the locker rooms, I had to know if I had missed Devon altogether. Maybe I just missed him while I was wandering around like an idiot. Maybe he takes really long showers, and he’s still in the locker room. Maybe he was too busy giving interviews after the game to get into the showers quickly. I knew at least that there was no one in the locker room except for—maybe—Devon himself. Everyone else that was even remotely affiliated with the team had already left. So I could sneak in, see if he was in there.
I hesitated only a few feet from the door. If I snuck in that could look really creepy. I bit my bottom lip and considered the situation. It could look really creepy, but it could also be a precursor to more sex with a guy who was really good at it—not that I had a basis for comparison, but I thought any guy who could get me off three times in one session was definitely good at it. I grinned to myself at the thought of sneaking into the locker room and finding Devon in the showers, taking off my clothes and slipping underneath the showerhead next to him. It could be really hot—and at least then, I thought, I’d have my answer one way or another. If he really wasn’t interested in me beyond a one-night stand, then he’d just tell me to go away. That thought gave me a little pause; it would be humiliating to be pushed away by a naked guy.
There was also the fact that I had to believe I wasn’t the first person to think of that idea. There were probably plenty of basketball bunnies who had done the same thing—and gotten a bad result. I didn’t want to look like a groupie. I just wanted to talk to Devon and find out what he really thought. I wanted to know whether the warnings I had heard were accurate. I shouldn’t be thinking about getting in some sneaky sex with Devon, even if he was incredibly hot. I should be thinking about getting answers.
I decided just to peek into the locker rooms. If the showers were on, I’d be able to hear it from the door, and I’d know—since everyone else had already left—that it was Devon. I could wait for a little while longer; the crew at the arena wouldn’t lock everything up if there was still a player there. I might get kicked out, but I could hang out in front, wait and talk to him. If he was still showering, he obviously wasn’t in a huge hurry to get to a party.
I took a deep breath and looked around; there wasn’t anyone watching. I figured security would have already stopped me if they were paying attention at all. I opened the door to the locker room and strained my ears to catch any sound, any sign that there was someone inside. I couldn’t hear anything at all. It was dead silent inside. Well, if nothing else, he definitely isn’t showering, I thought. But he could be getting dressed. I took a step into the locker room, standing on the balls of my feet, ready to dart out if a security guard or someone else caught me.
I peeked in. There was absolutely no one in there at all; all of the lockers I could see were closed, locks fastened. The one marked with Devon’s name was just as shut up as any of the others. Obviously he wasn’t in the locker room at all. I sighed, stepping out of the locker room and back into the hallway. I had apparently miss-timed my arrival. He probably grabbed a fast shower as soon as he got in and then booked it back to the frat, I thought sadly. If he was at a party, then my chances of finding him were close to zero. He’d be basking in the accolades of a game well played, and it would be impossible to get him alone.
You should have gotten his number before you slept with him. You should have just sent a text to everyone that you were okay and waited for him to wake up. It would have been so much better to have the conversation in the morning, to find out before I had even told Kelly anything about meeting Devon or sleeping with him what the score was. If Devon really did view me as just another one-night-stand, I could deal with it privately without having to tell anyone.
I sighed. I couldn’t even ask anyone what Devon’s number was. None of my friends would know it, and based on his reputation, anyone else I might ask—including his teammates—would know immediately that I’d slept with Devon. I would just have to wait for the chance to run into him, or maybe for the next game—though I thought I recalled that the next one was an away game. Somehow, I’d have to find the chance to get him alone. I had to know what he thought.
I decided that since Devon was obviously not in the locker room, he must have left already, and it would be stupid to get myself kicked out of the arena for no reason. I told myself to stop acting like a lovesick fool, and just go back to the dorms like I said I would. I’d be better able to think about how to tackle the situation tomorrow. I started off down the hall, away from the lockers and towards the exit. It was a bummer, but at least I could hold onto my hope for a little bit longer.
As I turned the corner, I saw the real reason that Devon wasn’t in the locker room. Right there, a few feet away as I came around the bend, I saw him, plain as day. There was a girl in front of him; I couldn’t see her face. I couldn’t tell who it was, because whoever it was, she was in the midst of kissing Devon.
HOOPED #2
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Chapter One
For an instant, all I could do was stand there and stare. It was worse than Devon telling me outright that he wasn’t actually interested in me, somehow. I felt my eyes stinging, a lump forming in my throat, and before I could actually start crying, I turned on my heel and started walking the other way.
There had to be another exit from the arena, I thought frantically, as I felt the first of my tears rolling down my cheek. My vision blurred; I tried to keep moving forward fast enough for the few people who might be in the arena still—the staff and the security—to not see the fact that I was starting to cry. I kept walking as fast as I could, blind as more and more tears started to fill my eyes. Oh god, if I keep walking I’m going to go in a circle and be right there in front of him again, I thought, wiping at my face and taking a deep breath to stop the hiccupping feeling of sobs working up through my throat. I shook my head, swallowing hard, and finally found the exit doors.
I plunged through them without even looking around me, hurrying out into the night. I didn’t know how it was that Devon kissing some girl was worse than actually being rejected by him, but somehow it seemed to me that it was a sign as clear as day that he didn’t care about me at all. If he had, if I was more than just a notch in his bedpost, then he wouldn’t be kissing someone—would he? I shuddered, gasping as I tried to keep control of myself. There wasn’t anyone around the arena that I could see, but I wasn’t in the state of mind to really even pay attention. All I wanted to do was get back to my dorms and bury myself under my covers.
Part of me wanted to be absolutely alone, left to my misery. The other part of me wanted to be able to at least talk to someone about what had happened. I started walking across campus towards the dorms, not even caring that I was by myself, not even worried about the imaginary monsters that lurked in the dark spaces between the safety lamps that shone down on the walkways. I took a turn automatically and fumbled at my pocket. I wanted to be alone, but I had to tell someone. I could only think of one person that I could possibly talk to about what had happened, what I had seen.