Hooped #3 (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series, Book #3) by Claire Adams Page A

I took a moment to catch
my breath, and then I was on my feet as the announcer proclaimed that the teams were taking the court in a matter of
seconds. The game was against Northwestern, and I watched as the opposing team
took the court first, bouncy and agile, none of them sluggish on their feet as
they headed to their side of the court to do their drills. A moment later, the
announcer called out our team, and I cheered along with everyone else in the
crowd, jumping up and down, already caught up in the fervor and excitement. I
watched intently and saw Devon come out
onto the court; just the sight of him made my heart flutter in my chest in a
way that had nothing to do with anxiety or general excitement. The members of
the team were bouncing on the balls of their feet, greeting the crowd, and
looking out over the stands.
    When Devon’s gaze connected with mine, I felt a little
electric jolt, a crackle down my spine that warmed me up all over. I felt
myself grinning—unable to help myself—even as I cheered for the team in
general. Devon grinned back, changing the way he waved at the crowd in general to the way he waved at me in
particular before going back to his hyped-up bouncing.
    The team stripped out of their sweats, revealing their
jerseys and shorts, and the sight of Devon’s legs, his arms—knowing what was
underneath as well as I did—made me shiver again. I watched as he chatted with
Miles, as he talked to other members of the team, stretching and flexing,
getting ready to head out to warm up on the court itself. He looked so happy;
happier than I had ever seen him at another game. It’s because of you. He’s this happy, this excited, because of you. He
loves the game, but he’s really —genuinely—glad
you’re here. The thought made me smile even more.
    Devon glanced at me again, giving me a little flirty
smile as he ran out onto the court with the rest of the team. They took up
their positions on the opposite side from the other team and began to run their
drills, warming up as the crowd cheered until I was certain that the entire
arena of people would be hoarse the next day. I was cheering and screaming
right along with them, though I couldn’t make myself cheer specifically for
Devon like some of the girls behind me were doing; the thought of calling
attention to myself that way was just too much. I completely forgot about the
other team on the court, watching my own team—and the man I loved on the
team—as they went through their drills, passing and darting around, making
shots. It was not quite as exciting as the game itself would be, but it was fun
to watch them, to notice the little refinements to their techniques from the
practice I had watched before.
    The two teams went back to the sidelines, and the packed arena went quiet as the announcer came
back on, informing everyone that the national anthem was about to start. I took
advantage of the lull to catch my breath; my heart was hammering in my chest,
but at least I could slow down my breathing, get myself a little calmed down.
Northwestern had a reputation for having a tough team—I had looked them up long
before, interested in their players as competition for Devon and the team as a
whole. The game was going to be exciting and probably long; I needed to
conserve my energy.
    I stayed standing during the national anthem, hand
over my heart, even though my eyes sought out the sight of Devon on the
sidelines, barely fidgeting. I smiled to myself, thinking that of course he was
trying to be respectful—but he wanted more than anything to get the game
started, to be on the court, showing off the way he always did, scoring points,
running back and forth on the boards. He wanted to be out there like five
minutes ago; anything that made him wait was going to be difficult for him to
deal with, even if he wanted to be polite and proper.
    The national anthem ended, and the two teams’ opening
lineup took the floor for the tip-off. I stood as close