Hooped #4 (The Hooped Interracial Romance Series, Book #4) by Claire Adams Page A

better to
see him cheering the team on, to get his insights as to the game. I wanted him
to succeed in retaking the test, but I
liked the little break that his suspension brought. It was nice to know that I
could have his attention almost completely, that he wouldn’t have to focus on
the game and staying at his peak of ability for just a little while.
    That afternoon, when my classes were done, Devon met
with me on campus, surprising me as I walked out of the building for my last
class of the day. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, and I squealed, struggling for just a moment before I
realized who it was. “You jerk!” I said, turning around in his arms and giving
him a playful cuff to the shoulder.
    “As if you didn’t know it was me,” he pointed out,
kissing me quickly in front of everyone. I broke away from his lips, laughing
and shaking my head.
    “What, you don’t think your girlfriend is so hot that
random guys would accost her on the walkway?” Devon let out a growl.
    “If they do you just tell me who it is and I’ll beat
the life out of him,” he told me, kissing me again. “I won’t have it.” He
loosened his hold on me, and I slipped
free of his arms, taking his hand.
    We went to the Student Union for a while to kill some
time before dinner, and Devon told me about the team that the school was up
against that night. “They’re not our prime rivals, but they’re a good team,” he
said, explaining the differences in play. It was fascinating for me to hear his
analysis, the way he sized up the different players on the other school’s team
and their strengths and weaknesses. I knew that Devon was a great player—but
listening to him, comparing our knowledge of tactics and strategy, I thought
that he must have almost as much information as the coach himself. “It’s so
good to be with someone who really likes the game,” he told me, smiling as he
brushed a lock of my hair out of my face.
    “You would not believe the number of guys who have
looked at me like a freak because I know stats,” I told him, shaking my head.
    “Probably thought that you were too good to be true!”
Devon gave my hand a squeeze. “You are, you know. Smart, gorgeous, great taste
in music and you love basketball. What more could a guy ask for?” I rolled my
eyes.
    “Not all guys love basketball. If you were a hockey player, I’d be totally screwed. I don’t know anything
at all about baseball, either.” Devon laughed.
    “Baseball is pretty boring, so I can give you a pass
on that. If you really want to learn about hockey, there’s a couple of guys in the frat who play on the school’s team,
I can have them teach you.”
    “I’m happy with basketball as my sport of choice,” I
told Devon, leaning in for a kiss.
    We went to dinner together, sitting at a table with
some of his friends, and Devon told me it was weird but awesome to be able to
just eat a meal without having to think too much about whether it would weigh
him down, whether it would be enough carbs and protein to last him through the
game or if he should pick something else. “Maybe you should,” one of his frat
brothers commented jokingly. “I mean, she’s coming home with you after the
game, you’ll want staying power—right?” I rolled my eyes, throwing a piece of
bread at the guy, and Devon gave my thigh a quick squeeze underneath the table,
flashing a grin at me.
    After dinner, we went to the game, Devon collecting
our tickets at the box office before leading me through the doors. In spite of
the fact that he was in a general sense of disgrace, everyone made a point of
saying hello to him, giving me a little smile for being in the company of the
star. The basketball bunnies—the girls who wanted to nail one of the members of
the team, most of them with their eyes set on Devon in particular—gave me looks
to kill, trying to flirt with Devon, but having no success. He led me down to
the seats that his friend had gotten for us and