Hooped #3 (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series, Book #3) (8 page)

“Can we get a comment from Devon Sealy?” someone
asked.

“No ma’am,” the coach told the reporter. “I’d
appreciate it if you guys would hit the road. I’ll be sending out a press
release about the game tomorrow morning.” I frowned to myself; there was more
and more about the situation that I didn’t like, although I didn’t know enough
about what was going on to know what it was. Of course the reporters wanted to
talk to Devon; he had been the star of the game. Why would the coach get
between Devon and the reporters, then?

The coach brushed past without even seeing me, and the
last few players came out as well, pairing off with the girls who had stayed
behind. The reporters started to decamp, and I felt pathetic, standing there
waiting, wondering if Devon was even in the locker room. If there was something
wrong—had someone smuggled Devon out of the locker rooms before the press had
arrived,
before I had gotten there? I took a
deep breath. If he didn’t come out in a few minutes, I would text him and see
what was going on.

There couldn’t possibly be anyone else in the locker
room, I thought, counting in my mind. All of the other players had come out,
the coaches, the support staff; before I knew it, I would be all alone in the
arena except for the cleanup crew. They’d throw me out. I was starting to think
that I would have to text Devon—starting to think that I should check on him in
the locker room. I took a deep breath, slipping my hand into my purse to take
out my phone. There was no message from Devon; I would have to text him.

Just when I would have sent the message, the door to
the locker room opened with a squeak, and Devon came out. Where he’d been
absolutely jubilant on the court, flushed with victory, jumping up and down,
smiling up at me, he was obviously furious—his brows were low over his eyes,
his lips turned down in a frown. “Dev!” I came away from the wall I had been
leaning on, hurrying to get to him as he came out of the locker room almost
storming through the door. Devon looked around, and in a moment spotted me; I
watched the clouds clear away from his face, and he smiled at me—though it was
barely a fraction of his normal charming grins.

“Hey, babe,” Devon said, wrapping his arms around me
the moment I came near. He kissed me lightly on the lips, his hands wandering
along my curves slowly. “It was good to see you there cheering for me,” he
murmured. He smiled against my lips, pulling my body close against his, holding
me for a long moment.

“It was good to watch you,” I told him. The things I’d
heard—the expression on his face, the whole situation—tugged at my mind,
troubling me. “What’s going on, Devon?” Devon pulled back slightly, swallowing.
For a
moment,
he looked more worried than
angry, and then the expression left his face once more, replaced by a ghost of
his usual cheerful look.

“I don’t want to talk about it here, babe,” he said,
smiling weakly. He kissed me again. “Let’s head back to the house and we can
talk about it there, okay?” I looked up into his eyes.

“This isn’t—it’s not anything about what we discussed
before, right?” I said, holding onto his arms tightly.

“No,” Devon said, giving me another weak smile. “It’s
nothing about anything like that. I promise I’ll tell you everything, okay?” I
took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

Chapter
Ten

The entire time we walked across campus, I was torn between
dread at finding out what had happened to Devon and delight at the fact that he
was holding my hand. If nothing else, I thought, obviously his problem—whatever
it was—wasn’t about Kelly or about me, and it wasn’t about his playing ways.
But the fact that Devon was so obviously upset worried me. It had to be
something serious for him to be so angry. The questions from the reporters,
along with the comments from the coach—that he had nothing to say about Devon,
that Devon wouldn’t be speaking to the press—filtered through my mind, giving
me a picture of nothing good at all. I wanted to ask him what it was, but while
we were in public—and in spite of how deserted the campus was that time of
night, it was still public—I knew he wouldn’t want to say anything.

So I forced myself to be patient. It would look
strange for us to walk silently, so I made myself make small talk. Devon and I
talked about the game, about Northwestern, about the halftime show that neither
of us had seen. “I feel like I played better than ever,” Devon said, giving me
a slightly more genuine smile.

“You were definitely on fire,” I said, moving a little
closer to him in the darkness between two safety lights. Devon gave my hand a
little squeeze, and I hoped against hope that whatever had happened between
when he left the court and when I saw him again, it wouldn’t be something that
could ruin our relationship; I had practically not just burned but exploded my
bridges with Kelly. I didn’t know how I could handle it to lose both Kelly and
Devon within twenty-four hours. It wouldn’t be fair.

We arrived at the frat house, and Devon said a polite
hello to his brothers hanging around the living room. “Great game, man,”
someone called out, barely tearing his gaze away from the TV where a post-game
commentary was going on. One of the other brothers looked over and grinned,
giving me a wave.

“I saw you down court-side,” he said. “Cheering our
boy. You got a good one there, Dev.”

Devon chatted for a few moments—and I knew that he was
anxious to get me somewhere private where we could talk.
 
I kept up my own end of the conversation,
smiling and nodding, agreeing with a few comments about the game. I could feel
the tension in the room—but obviously no one wanted to talk about whatever was
happening with Devon. That made me even more deeply worried; I didn’t know how
to feel about something that everyone in the frat knew about, but which no one
would talk about. Something that the coach of the team wouldn’t talk to the
press
about,
that Devon wouldn’t mention
in public. My heart was beating in my chest as my brain played through all of
the possibilities; maybe there had been a death in Devon’s family, or someone
had been injured, or he was sick. Maybe Devon had bad grades in one of his
classes
and was going to be put on academic
probation. Any number of things would have happened.

I somehow managed to keep my anxious self together.
After a while, Devon finally managed to beg off, saying that he was tired
after
such a big
game
and wanted to get some time with me alone. I grinned
nervously, looking around the room; there were a few
leers
—a few suggestive looks, from guys who were pretty sure they
knew what Devon was really after. Some of the other guys in the frat looked at
Devon and
Me
as if they were
contemplating an explosion. Devon took me by the hand and led me up the stairs,
saying goodnight to the other guys. He gave my hand a little squeeze, and I
could see the anxiety in his eyes as he glanced at me.

My heart beat in my chest, faster and faster, as I
tried to decide what the worst possible thing could be.
Maybe he knocked someone up; condoms break, the pill fails—it could be
that. If he’s not seeing her still, I could be okay with that…I guess…or maybe
he took steroids and got caught—though I can’t even imagine him doing something
quite so stupid. Maybe he and some other member of the team had some kind of
problem—some kind of fight. Oh god, I wish he would just tell me what’s going
on. I might die of a fucking heart attack before we even get to his room.

Devon opened the door to his bedroom and led me
through it, and for a long moment we were both silent as he closed the door
behind us. I waited for him to tell me—I waited for him to say something,
anything. Devon was looking at the floor, staring at it; it made me terrified.
Whatever it was, it was obviously a really huge deal. This couldn’t be
something minor, not the way that he was wrestling with himself, avoiding my
gaze.

“God, Devon,” I said, sitting down heavily on the edge
of his bed. “Just tell me. I don’t even care what it is, just tell me. I can’t
sit here and keep stewing anymore.” Devon finally met my gaze and looked like
he was about to cry.

“Okay,” he said slowly, taking a shaky breath and
licking his lips. “But you have to promise to hear me out—don’t say anything
until I’ve told you the whole story.” I closed my eyes; if it was this dire—did
I really want to know it? But I had to know now. I couldn’t just brush it off
and pretend like nothing was going on. Obviously the guys downstairs knew what
had happened; the press knew about it. Everyone seemed to know about it except
for me. I couldn’t just stick with ignorance.

“Fine,” I said, opening my eyes and taking a deep
breath. “I—I promise. I’ll let you explain the whole thing before I say
anything about what it is. Just tell me.” Devon swallowed and moved across the
room, sitting
in
his desk chair. He took
another breath.

“After the game,
coach
pulled me aside in the locker room,” Devon said slowly. “He told me—he said
that some guys on the academic standards committee needed to talk to me.” I bit
my bottom lip to keep from saying anything; if the academic standards committee
wanted to talk to Devon—if they had—it had to be something major, indeed.
Failing a class, or something that could be grounds for academic probation;
something that could get him suspended or even kicked off of the team.

“Okay,” I said—in spite of the fact that I had
promised to say nothing until he finished. Devon closed his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them again, he exhaled on a sigh.

“The thing is that they—okay.” Devon pressed his lips
together. “Back when I was in high school, I was all about basketball. I was
barely making grades—just good enough to keep from getting kicked off the team,
right?” I nodded. I wished that he would just tell me; my heart was beating so
hard in my chest that I thought it would
burst
out from between my ribs, or leap up into my throat. What did his grades in
high school have to do with anything he had going on now? He was only a few
semesters away from graduating.

“So I needed really good test scores, you know?” I
nodded again, feeling a chill in the room. The hair on the back of my neck
stood up as a suspicion started up in my mind. Test scores. The SAT; the ACT.
Oh god, what did he do?
I felt my throat
tightening at the question. “So I paid someone to take the test for me.”

“You what?” My voice leaped out through my lips before
I could restrain it, my words an almost shriek. I remembered as soon as I spoke
that I had promised not to say anything until he explained all the way.

“I paid someone to take the test for me. I knew I’d
never get a decent score. So someone took my
ACT,
and did well enough for me to get my scholarship, and get in here.” I stared at
him blankly, horror filling my brain. This was so much worse than anything I
had
imagined,
though I couldn’t think
of
why.

“You—you did what?” Devon shrugged, looking at me
weakly.

“They found out somehow, and the academic standards
committee said that I had to meet with the dean tomorrow.” He took a deep
breath and sighed again. “I’m going to be suspended, starting tomorrow
morning—first thing.”

I stared at Devon in complete shock. How was he not
getting expelled for this? Suspended—he had not just cheated on his ACT; he had
never even taken it! “If I’m suspended, I can’t play. I’m going to miss the tournament
game.” I stood up, trembling all over, my shock turning into anger.

“You—you didn’t just cheat on the test, you—” I shook
my head, thinking
about
how hard I had
worked to be able to get in, how hard I had studied and prepared to get the
scores I wanted on the SAT and ACT. All of the different things that the girls
had said about Devon filtered through my brain: that he did whatever he wanted,
that he would say whatever it took to get his way. I brought my hands up to my
face and then let them fall to my sides, torn between complete shock and utter
rage. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get in here? Do you—do you
even care about the fact that—that you’re—that you didn’t even do any of your
own work to get your spot?”

“I made grades!” Devon said, looking hurt. “And I
trained harder than any other guy I knew.”

“That’s not even the point!” I clamped my teeth shut,
realizing that I was shouting. I didn’t want anyone downstairs to hear me—it
was bad enough already. “Not only did you totally just...just ignore the
system. You—you risked losing everything! When you could have just studied and
gotten a decent score on your own.” I shook my head in disbelief.

“I knew there was no way I could get a decent
score—that’s why I did it.” I opened my
mouth,
but no words came.

“I can’t believe you,” I said finally. “You don’t even
care about the fact that you’re a liar and a cheat—you only care that you’re
not going to be playing.” I opened my mouth and shut it again, trying to
process what was happening, trying to understand how I could have ever had
feelings for someone who would do something so incredibly stupid.

“I can work it out, Jenny—” My hands tightened into
fists.