Hooped #3 (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series, Book #3) (5 page)

I rummaged through my clothes and picked out a pair of
jeans and a new tee shirt; my classes for the day didn’t merit anything more
than that, and after having staying the night with him three times, I doubted
that Devon really cared whether I wore a skirt,
a
dress,
or jeans. I sneaked out of my room and into the adjoining
half-bathroom on my side of the dorm to wash my face and smooth my hair; I put
on fresh underwear and socks and pulled my new outfit on as quickly as
possible; I had ten minutes to get back over to Devon’s place.

As I was locking the door to my side of the dorm, I
heard Kelly’s door close. “Hey,” she said, her voice more angry than sleepy. “I
didn’t hear you come in last night.” I turned to see her in her pajamas,
glaring at me.

“That’s because I didn’t,” I said levelly.

“I guess you were with
him
then.” Kelly crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head
even as she continued to stare at me angrily.

“It’s really none of your business. I have somewhere
to be.” Not only was I still uncertain as to whether to believe Kelly’s
stories—both the ones she had told me about Devon being horrible and her
excuses that she had never had anything to do with him herself—but I didn’t
want to keep Devon waiting. I didn’t want to miss any time that I could be
spending with him.

I started to walk past her, to the door to our dorm,
but Kelly stepped in my way. “I don’t get you, Jenn. Why would you choose him
over me? I’ve been your friend for years! Is it just because he fucked you, is
that it?” I felt my cheeks burning, heat spreading down from my forehead onto
my chest.

“Look,” I said, pushing past her. “Obviously there’s
no point in talking about this until you calm down.” I started towards the door
once more and had just turned the doorknob when Kelly spoke again.

“All right, fine! I did date him for a while, and yes,
it was me kissing him. You happy? He was actually telling the truth for once in
his life.” I turned to look at her, more shocked than surprised; after all, I
had believed Devon deep down, even though Kelly had insisted that he was
lying—hadn’t I?

“I’d be happier if you hadn’t tried to sabotage
everything,” I said flatly.

“I still don’t see why you would choose him over me,”
Kelly said, shaking her head. It looked like there were tears in her eyes, but
her expression was so angry I couldn’t really tell.

“Well, for starters,” I replied, straightening my
spine and holding her gaze, “Devon has never lied to me.” Kelly’s eyes
widened,
and she stared at me in shock that had
to have looked as unbelieving as my own. “I’m leaving.” I turned back towards
the door.

“Go ahead and run off
with
your stupid boyfriend then!” Kelly
said,
her voice nearly a shout. “You’re both going to get what you deserve.” I heard
her door slam and shook my head, walking out into the hallway. I didn’t know
what she meant—but I also didn’t feel like wasting time to go back and ask her.
She’s just upset. Ignore it. She’ll get
over it eventually, and if she doesn’t, she was never really your friend to
begin with.

Chapter
Six

I made my way across campus once more, hurrying to get
to the Phi Kappa house as quickly as I could; my argument with Kelly hadn’t
taken long, but it had left me shaken. She had actually admitted to her lie.
She had admitted that Devon had been right—that he hadn’t just been trying to
run a game on me, to get what he wanted.
You
knew it all
along,
I thought, shaking
my head.
Why wouldn’t she just admit it
from the beginning?

I stewed on the questions spinning in my head as I
walked from the dorms to the other end of campus, barely acknowledging the few
people who were out and about, headed to the dining hall or to their morning
classes. If Kelly had told me from the beginning that she knew what Devon had
been like from experience—that he had treated her poorly, that she was heartbroken
over him—then I might not have ever even given him a chance. That would have
been bad for Devon and for me, but at least it would have been honest.

Even if she had confessed when I had confronted her
with the information that Devon had given me, it would have been mostly okay. I
could understand being jealous—I had seen enough jealousy in high school to
know it could make people do crazy things. But the fact that she had not only
lied to me from the beginning, but tried to actively sabotage any chance at a
relationship I might have had with Devon and then lied again, was nearly
unforgivable as far as I was concerned. She had been my friend for years; I
thought that we had more trust between us than that.

I barely realized I was approaching the Phi Kappa
house until I was nearly walking past it; I stopped myself, shaking my head and
taking a deep breath. I was not going to let a petty argument with Kelly ruin
my time with Devon. I took another deep breath and put it behind me. I turned
around and walked to the front door; but I stood there for a moment, not
entirely sure of how to handle the situation. There were obviously guys in the
frat house who were still asleep—I didn’t want to wake them up and irritate
them. As much as possible I wanted to stay on the Phi Kappa guys’ good side, as
long as it didn’t cost me anything. I worried at my bottom lip, thinking.
Knocking on the door was out—that would definitely wake up a few people. I took
my phone out of my pocket and found the text message thread with Devon.
I’m at the front door, but I don’t want to
wake anyone up,
I wrote. Less than a minute later my phone buzzed; Devon
had sent an emoji back: a smiley face with its tongue stuck out.

A minute later, the door
opened,
and I nearly jumped in spite of the fact that I should have
expected it. Devon stood in the half-open door in nothing more than his pajama
pants; the ridges of his hip bones told me he wasn’t even wearing boxers
underneath, and for a moment I wished that I had more than about an hour to
spend with him before I had to leave for class. “Right on time, babe,” he said
with a grin.

“I told you,” I countered, stepping through the door
he held open for me. Walking into the house, I could smell something absolutely
delicious; the scent of vanilla, of something fried, filled the air, giving me
a hint as to what Devon had put together for us.

Devon led me into the kitchen, where a couple of the
frat brothers were awake, gulping down coffee and eating cereal. When Devon and
I walked in, they looked up and seemed to all decide at the same time that
they’d much rather watch the news in the living room.
 
“Have a seat,” Devon told me with a grin,
gesturing to the newly empty table. I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“Are they being polite because I’m a girl, or because
you’re the boss around here?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

“A little bit of both,” Devon said. “Sit down, you
don’t have that much time to enjoy the feast I’ve prepared for you.”

“Oh? A feast, no less,” I said, picking one of the
chairs and sitting down quickly. Devon went to the stove and opened the oven
underneath, revealing a cookie sheet stacked with a huge pile of French toast. He
reached up into the cupboard and took out plates, and divided up the French
toast between the two; I grinned to myself as he lifted a napkin off of a plate
that I’d seen off to the side on the counter, revealing freshly cooked bacon.
“You weren’t kidding about a feast!” I said, my eyes widening as Devon piled
both plates.

“How do you take your coffee?” he asked me, setting
the plate down in front of me and putting his own directly across from where I
sat.

“Milk and sugar.” Devon nodded and extracted a pair of
mugs out of the cupboard, pouring and doctoring the coffee quickly. I noticed
that he took sugar but no milk in
his,
and smiled to myself. As he put the milk back into the fridge, he took out a
bottle of maple syrup, along with a container of orange juice. “Wow,” I said,
shaking my head in disbelief. “This is as good as I could get at a restaurant.”
Devon laughed, pouring glasses of juice and setting them on the table before he
sat down.

“I like cooking,” he said, shrugging off my praise.
“Ever since I started really being serious about basketball, I knew I needed to
cook for myself. I figured if I was going to be eating it, it might as well
taste good.” I nodded, smiling, and bit into a piece of bacon; it was just the
way I liked it: crispy but not burned, with just a little bit of chewiness to
it.

“How did you go about learning?” I asked. I knew how
to cook somewhat—but of course, I lived in the dorms, where there was no real
way to cook anything that couldn’t go in a microwave or a toaster oven.

“I asked my mom!” Devon said, chuckling as he dug into
his French toast. “I also watched a bunch of cooking shows. There’s one I still
really like, with this guy Alton Brown.
Good
Eats
. He goes and explains why you do things a certain way, with chemical
reactions and shit, it’s great.”

“I think I caught an episode of that once,” I said.
“Doesn’t he use weird stuff like power tools and things?” Devon nodded.

“He has this episode where he cooks in one of those
clay plant pots. It’s insane—and it totally works.” I took a bite of my French
toast; buttery syrup, vanilla, and cinnamon filled my mouth, and I nearly
moaned at how good it tasted.

“Oh my god, Dev,” I said as soon as I swallowed. “This
is better than my mom’s French toast, and she’s the queen of breakfast food.”
Devon smiled, his dark eyes lighting up.

“I’m glad you like it, Jenny,” he said, giving me a
playful grin for the use of the nickname I hated. “Eat up—you’ve got
class
.” As we both devoured our breakfasts, we
chatted, comparing our class schedules, talking about events around campus.
Devon asked me if I was planning on joining any clubs, if I wanted to join any
of the sororities. It felt so comfortable, just sitting in the kitchen, eating
and talking; it was so real, so basic—something I had never known I’d missed
until I had it.

“Usually I just grab something from the dining hall, a
sandwich or some fruit and coffee,” I said, cleaning up the last of the syrup
on my plate with a piece of
already soggy
French toast. “I’m going to be in a food coma all through class now.”

“You can afford it,” Devon said, rolling his eyes and
grinning. “I think you’re probably the smartest person I know.”

“I am not,” I protested. “Besides, you barely know me.
I’m a good student, but I’m not brilliant. Now my friend Ashley—she’s
genius-level. Doesn’t even have to study anything.” Devon asked about my
friends,
and I told him about everyone in the
group,
except
for Kelly. I couldn’t bring
myself to tell him about the fact that the girl who had claimed to be my best
friend had been his ex, and the girl who had grabbed him after the game days
before. I put Kelly out of my mind as completely as possible, focusing on my
other friends, telling him about the time we all lost each other in Wal-Mart
and played Marco Polo to locate each other in the aisles, about the minor
pranks we had pulled before our class loads got heavy enough to convince us to
buckle down and study.

I didn’t want to leave; I wished that I could stay,
but my alarm on my phone went off even while I was still nursing my coffee,
sipping at my orange juice, trying to prolong the time I had with Devon. “I
could email the professor and tell him I’m sick,” I grumbled, looking at my
phone with dismay. Devon laughed.

“I could keep you in bed all day, but you know you’d
probably just feel bad that you’re missing everything.” I smiled in spite of
myself.

“You’re probably right. Damn it.” I shook my head,
sighing,
and knocked back the last of my juice.
“This is the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time. Really.” Devon shrugged,
but I could see the pride in his eyes, the satisfaction in his smile.

“Hey—I almost forgot to ask. Are you going to the game
tonight? I won’t be able to get the great shots without my coach there in the
bleachers.” I rolled my eyes, grinning.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said. “Even if I
wasn’t dating the
star
player.” I
finished off my coffee and put my dishes in the sink. Devon grabbed me around
the waist from behind, turned me around, and kissed me lightly on the lips
before giving me a little playful shove.

“Go to class before you get in trouble,” he said,
giving me one last, quick kiss on the forehead. I grabbed my book bag and
hurried out past the other frat brothers, beaming like a 100-watt bulb.

Chapter
Seven

As I was going from my morning class to lunch, hoping
for a call or
text
from Devon, my phone
buzzed in my pocket. I nearly dropped it in my hurry to see if it was him—only
to feel a rush of disappointment when I saw instead that it was the pizza place
I worked at. “What’s up?” I asked, continuing to walk towards the dining hall.

“Can you come in this afternoon? Cheryl called out
sick,
and we need someone to cover.” I thought
about it; I was only scheduled usually for fifteen hours a week—enough to have
extra money to spend on what I wanted to do, but not so much that I ever had to
worry about schedule conflicts. I knew that I was near the bottom of the
call-in list. Cheryl almost never called in sick—like me, she genuinely liked
working, and she helped support her family with the job. If she had called out,
she was probably barely able to get out of bed.