Hooped #2 (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series #2) by Claire Adams

it. “I
didn’t even know anyone was there; she just grabbed me and started kissing me.”
    “I want to believe you,” I said, giving him a sad
little smile. “Not—not only because…” I shook my head. “I want to believe you.”
    “If I was really a player,” Devon said, leaning in closer to me, “would I be going to this much
trouble to convince you?” he held my gaze. “Come on, Jenn. I’m really into you.
I want to get to know you better. And we had a good time, didn’t we? I swear to
you I am telling the truth.” I hesitated for a moment longer.
    “Okay,” I said, smiling in spite of my worry. “Fine,
yes, I’ll believe you.” Devon’s worried expression dissolved into a smile.
    “Finish your ice cream before it melts, huh?” I
laughed and dug back into it. “This isn’t half bad for strawberry.”
    “You said you like strawberry!”
    “I do like it; it’s just not my favorite.”
    “What is your favorite?”
    “Fudge swirl.”

 
    Chapter
Eight
    Devon and I ate our ice cream and talked about
everything and nothing. It worried me that I still didn’t know whether or not I
should believe him; but I had at least gotten his side of the story, and I had
to believe that he was genuinely interested in me. A guy who goes out of his way to track you down, to keep trying to find
out what he did wrong, has to at least be a little bit interested in you, I
thought. I began to relax, laughing as Devon joked, feeling more and more
comfortable and confident.
    “So it’s actually a good thing you left when you did,”
Devon told me, about the night we had first gotten together.
    “Oh really? Why is that?” Devon grinned.
    “Well—I don’t actually know when you left—but what
actually woke me up that morning was the smoke detector.”
    “Oh god! What happened?” Devon laughed.
    “One of the pledges. He was hung over and heard that
the best thing to treat it was bacon. Of course, he’s never cooked anything in
his life that didn’t come out of a microwave…” Devon spread his hands in front
of him.
    “He didn’t burn the place down, did he?” I shook my
head.
    “Nah. I got up and half the frat was running around the kitchen putting it out. He’s on dish
duty for the next month, though.”
    “You should have cooking classes,” I joked. “Part of
pledge week.” Devon snorted.
    “We’d lose our insurance for sure—half the
upperclassmen guys can’t cook either!” I laughed, shaking my head again.
    “You men are completely helpless, aren’t you?” Devon
pretended to scowl at me.
    “Excuse me, Jenny, but I for
one am perfectly capable of fending for myself.” I rolled my eyes.
    “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me
Jenny?”
    “Until you tell me why you hate it so much.” I sighed.
    “Well, the kids at my middle school used to say it
like that movie— Forrest Gump —from
forever ago. ‘Jen-nay!’ you know?” Devon chuckled.
    “That’s not that bad,” he pointed out.
    “They also used to call me Jenny Pennies, because my
family was broke for a while, and I had to pay for lunch with change.” Devon
cringed.
    “That will do it. I promise I will never call you
Jenny Pennies.”
    “But you’re not going to stop calling me Jenny?”
    “Nope.”
    “Why not?” I scowled at him, ruining the effect with a
grin.
    “Because then I can be the person who makes you love
the name Jenny.” Devon grinned.
    “Okay, slick,” I said, losing my scowl completely.
“You can try. But I’m going to tell you to stop it every time.”
    “If it really bothers you, Jenn, I will.” Devon looked
at me levelly, the smile gone from his face. “I don’t want to ruin my chances
with you.”
    “Well, we’ll see,” I said.
    “Since you opened up about something, I guess it’s
only fair if I do too, right?” I nodded.
    “You’ve got a point there. We’re all about fairness,
aren’t we?” I blushed, remembering the point I’d made the first time we were