Hooped (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series #1)
Page 6
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 bef
ore 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.
Continued in Hooped #2, the hooped series. Click here to continue.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams