Hooped (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series #1) (2 page)

One of the frat members came up to me and asked me to
dance with him, and I looked at my friends; they were all having a good time,
so I decided to have a good time too. I let him lead me over to the makeshift
dance floor in the living room, but I kept his hands from wandering too much.
It wasn’t that I was a prude so much as it was that I was already pretty hot
and sweaty, and the guy was obviously interested in getting me alone; I didn’t
really have that in mind for the night—I just wanted to have a little bit of
fun with my friends. But I went from him to another guy who wanted to dance,
and I had a second drink when I finished my first; after all, I was going to be
walking home. I didn’t want to get plastered, but I also didn’t want to look
like I was trying to ruin anyone else’s good time.

I was having a great time; the only thing that bummed
me out a little bit—even though I knew it shouldn’t—was that I didn’t catch
sight of Devon at all, even though I looked around for him more than a little.
I figured he must have gone upstairs with some girl, or he might have been
hanging out in the back yard around the pool, and put the thought aside. I told
myself I could have a perfectly good time without having to meet Devon Sealy;
even if he was a star in my favorite sport, it wasn’t like he was the
end-all-be-all of existence.

Chapter
Two

For the first hour or two of the
party,
I was having a great time. But as the
party continued on and on, I started to get more and more tired. The Red Bull
started to lose its effects on
me,
and I
was even more exhausted than I had been even before we left. “Drink another Red
Bull!” Kelly suggested, putting one in my hand. I drank it, but it left me
feeling jittery instead of putting a stop to my fatigue.

I started to wander around the frat house, even though
my feet were hurting. I told myself that I could people-watch even if I didn’t
feel much like interacting. My friends were getting steadily
drunker,
and I watched as Giselle practically
humped one of the Phi Kappa boys in the middle of the living room; she wasn’t
the only one, either. None of my friends showed the least sign of wanting to
call it a night, so I didn’t really have much of a choice. I knew that if I
left without them I’d never hear the end of it, and besides, the idea of
walking across the dark campus all by myself was less than appealing.

I tried wandering around, seeing if I could spot any
of the campus celebrities; I saw the student body president doing shots of
Jaegermeister
, which amused me for a little while, since it
was totally different from the guy’s public persona: a guy who did volunteer
work and studied at all hours in the library. I saw some of the other members
of the basketball team, but not Devon; I managed to strike up a conversation
with one of the guys, talking about the recent game. He seemed surprised that I
knew anything about basketball and asked me if I played.

“No, I’ve never been all that great with hand-eye
coordination,” I said, laughing. “But my dad loved the game, so he taught me
how to appreciate it.”

“Your dad raised you right then!” We started trading
team stats and talking about our favorite players, and for a while I was able
actually to enjoy
myself. Then one of the girls
at the party, totally drunk and more out of her dress than in it, wandered up
and asked the guy to take a shot with her, and he gave me a quick, wry glance before
following her out into the living room.

I hung out by the pool for a while, drinking one of
the bottles of water that had been stashed in coolers—I could say for the Phi
Kappa guys that at least they had something to drink that wasn’t alcohol. I was
starting to get annoyed by the fact that it was getting later and
later,
and my friends showed no signs of being
interested in heading back to the dorms. For a while, it was nice by the pool;
it was cooler than inside the packed frat house, and it was hilarious to watch
people being thrown into the pool. I stayed out of the line of fire; I had no
interest at all in being one of the people tossed in. I finished my water and
realized I had to pee. Since unlike the guys I couldn’t just turn my back on
the party and pee in the bushes, I had to go back inside with the pounding bass
and the sweaty people.

On my way into the house and towards one of the
bathrooms, I ran into Alicia; she was making out on the dance floor with one of
the guys from the hockey team, and didn’t even notice me. Giselle had moved
on to
a new conquest, and Kelly was nowhere to
be seen. I was starting to get annoyed with my friends, but I hurried to the
bathroom and told myself that I’d regroup with them once I was out. Surely
someone in the group wasn’t busy plastering herself on some guy.

I checked the time on my phone while I waited for the
line for the bathroom to move forward and give me my opportunity. I knew that
the bathroom would probably be horrifying; I had seen more than a few people
passed out. But I didn’t have much choice in the matter. It was already past
midnight—I had been at the party for three
hours,
and my feet were starting to hurt from walking around and dancing so much. I
was losing my buzz and starting to get a headache.

By the time I had used the bathroom quickly, not
looking around me very much at all and barely washing my hands, there was no sign
of my friends. I had no idea where they’d gotten to. One of the
guys—inexplicably still upright, in spite of obviously being drunk—offered me
another cup of
punch,
and I decided I
might as well. I gulped it down, thinking longingly of the TV shows I had
missed. It would have been okay if we’d all managed to stick together, but I
had no idea where any of my friends had gone.

Alicia found me finally, reeling and stumbling from
being drunk. “Isn’t this the best party ever?” she asked me in a
near shriek
. I smiled, trying to ignore the
searing, throbbing pain in my head from the loud music and cheap alcohol. “Come
on, Jenn, let’s do a shot.”

She led me into the
kitchen,
and I saw that the other girls were in there, all of them chatting up guys,
dancing. Kelly’s top was
nearly
off while
she shimmied up against a guy I was sure she didn’t know, but I told myself it
wasn’t my business. I knocked back a shot of what someone told me was Jack but
I thought tasted more like the cheapest possible whiskey and chased it with
long gulps of store-brand cola, and I tried to get back into the swing of the
party. I already knew it was hopeless.

Eventually, I was so annoyed with my friends and so
tired of the whole party that I wandered away; the music was finally starting to
die down a bit—I thought I saw one of the members of the frat talking to the
campus police, which would have explained it. It was already one in the
morning, but there were plenty of people still going at it, dancing like crazy
and making out. I wandered around until I found a loveseat that no one was
using; I checked to make sure it wasn’t soaking wet or covered in puke before I
sat down—miraculously it seemed
actually to be
relatively clean.
I doubt it would pass a
black light inspection, but at least it’s something.
My feet were killing
me, and when I sat down I finally started to feel relief.

My head was throbbing. I’d let Kelly and the others
talk me into two more shots before I grabbed a bottle of water, knowing that if
I had anything more to drink I’d be absolutely drunk—and I’d probably throw up,
just from how cheap the booze was. “You’re never going to get a tolerance like
that!” Giselle had told me, trying to convince me to take another shot, or at
least have
a beer
. I laughed and said
that if I didn’t have a tolerance, I’d always be a cheap date—at least I’d have
that going for me.

I watched the people starting to leave; they were
mostly heading for the front door, but more than a few went up to the bedrooms,
and I had a good idea of just what they were about to do. The girls were
nowhere in sight, but I thought they’d probably find some guy or another to go
back with, leaving me alone—at the rate they were going, they might end up
passed out on the floor instead in a few hours. My head was still throbbing,
but the water seemed to be helping a little. I was more irritated by the fact
that I’d obviously wanted to go home…but no one was ready to walk with me. I
didn’t want to have to wait for my friends, but I also didn’t want to have to
risk walking alone, or not knowing whether they would be okay.

I was lost in my own thoughts, getting more and more
irritated,
when I saw someone approach the
loveseat in the corner of my eye. The seat shifted underneath me, and I
realized that someone—in my blurry peripheral vision it looked like a guy—had
sat down without even asking if I was okay with it. My irritation flared
up,
and I turned to give him a piece of my
mind.

But the moment I turned to face the intruder, I
realized who it was. I took in the sight of the guy’s hair: curly on
top,
buzzed close to the skull underneath. He
wasn’t facing me, but I could make out his profile, and the general shape of
his body. To my surprise, he wasn’t even wearing a toga—which seemed strange
for the living legend of the fraternity: Devon Sealy himself—sitting next to
me. My irritation evaporated immediately. I’d been trying to spot him all
night, hoping I might at least be able to say hello or compliment him on his
playing—something, anything. And there he was.

Devon turned and gave me a little grin. “Hey, sorry if
I invaded your space,” he said, shifting to the side slightly.

“Oh, it’s okay,” I said, smiling a little. I could
feel my cheeks heating
up
and I wasn’t
sure if it was the alcohol or my own embarrassment. “I was just kind of…done
with partying, and needed to sit down for a bit.” I showed him my shoes and he
laughed.

“Yeah, those look like they’d make you tired of
partying pretty fast.” He extended his hand to me. “I’m Devon.”

“Jennifer—Jenn,” I said, shaking his hand. I couldn’t
believe my luck.

“I’m kind of done for the night, too,” Devon told me,
his touch lingering
on
my skin for just a
moment before he let his hand fall away. “I can’t just disappear—I’d lose my
cred—but I’m kind of over everyone wanting to tell me how great I am.” I
giggled.

“Well, I’m sorry to do this to you then,” I said,
unable to help myself. “But I think you’re awesome. I’ve seen you play; you
could give LeBron a run for his money.” Devon laughed.

“Now are you saying that because you know basketball
and really think I’m that good, or because LeBron is the only name you know?” I
shook my head.

“My dad brought me up
on
basketball. I’ve been rooting for his team—the Celtics—since I was about five.”

“Okay then, who do you like on the Celtics?”

“Quizzing me? Really? Okay.” I licked my lips. “I have
to be all about Isaiah Thomas, I mean he’s a great point guard and he’s done
great in assists. But my personal favorite player is Jae Crowder. “

“You know your stuff!” Devon seemed really pleased; within
moments, we were talking about the game, ragging each other about our favorite
teams. We started talking about the season and Devon’s stats so far, and I was
on cloud nine. I barely even noticed at first as he moved a little closer to me
on the loveseat, but when I did I was far from upset about it. Devon’s choice
to come and sit down with a stranger—me—had turned the party from a major
annoyance to a prime opportunity, and I was not going to waste the chance to
talk to the big man himself.

Devon quizzed me some more, really testing my
knowledge; we talking about our favorite players, discussed dream teams made up
of both current players and the best players in history. Devon asked me if I
was into any other sports, and I admitted that while I’d gone to a few football
games in high school, I’d never really been into any other sports. “You should
totally come by to watch the games here,” Devon suggested.

“Really? A bunch of sweaty
guys
drinking beers and screaming at the TV?” Devon laughed.

“It’s not that bad. And anyway, I think a couple of
the guys are Celtics fans; you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I could just go to the Celtics bar in town and not be
alone,” I countered. Devon laughed again.

“But you just said you didn’t want to be surrounded by
sweaty guys drinking beers and screaming at the TV.”

“That is true. I’ll probably just stick to making my
roommate have a heart attack by watching the game in our dorm and screaming
at the TV
myself.”

After a while, we started talking about the party
itself. I thought we must have been the only two people in the entire house who
were even close to being sober. “Look at him, look at him,” Devon said to me,
his voice low, pointing out one of the guys—not one of his frat brothers—who
was obviously striking out with a woman.

“Not as bad as her,” I said, directing his attention
to one of the girls, who was dancing in her sexiest movements for a guy who was
basically passed out on a couch.

“I bet you anything they still end up in the same bed
at the end of the night.” I giggled, imagining both of them passed out,
half-dressed and with no idea of where they were.