Read Online Hooped #3 (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series, Book #3) by Claire Adams - Free Book Online Page B

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.