by Claire Adams
I wandered out of the serving area and into the dining room, looking around. In part, I wanted to find my group of friends—but I was also looking, at least a little bit, to see if Devon was in the dining hall, or if Kelly was. If Kelly were with everyone, I’d have to save my questions for another time.
She wasn’t at the table where everyone else had crowded, which gave me some relief. I wanted to be able to talk about Devon objectively, with people who didn’t know what Kelly had told me, or the fact that I had slept with him. Alicia and Giselle moved aside when I approached, giving me somewhere to sit. “So little Miss ‘I’m too tired to go to a party’ ended up not even coming home at the end of the night,” Alicia teased me. I rolled my eyes.
“Well if I’m going to go to a party then I might as well go all out, right? Or would you rather I go around whining all night and make one of you walk me back to the dorms at midnight?” Everyone laughed. I knew I was going to have to wait to broach the topic on my mind; if I said something too close to Alicia commenting on my overnight stay in the frat house, then someone might conclude the reason for my questions. Everyone compared notes about their nights; it turned out that a couple of my friends had ended up going back to other dorms, though they’d had the presence of mind to check in with someone in the group first. I shrugged off everyone’s concern about the fact that I’d just disappeared and pointed out that they had disappeared from my side instead of the other way around.
We started talking about our plans for the rest of the weekend; this would be my opening, I knew it. “Anyone else going to the game?” I asked. “It should be a good one—we’re up against Valley State.”
“I was thinking about it, but I have that stupid paper to write,” Alexis said, sighing. Everyone else had other things going on as well; Giselle had a date with one of the guys she had made out with the night before, Alicia was going to another party, Becky was going out with her boyfriend since, for once, they both had the same night off from work.
“I wish I could go,” Samantha said with a sigh. “If nothing else I’d love to watch Devon Sealy play.” Everyone at the table giggled.
“I actually had an incredible piece of dumb luck last night,” I said. “I met him.”
“Really? He wasn’t surrounded by girls three deep?” Alexis asked. Everyone laughed again.
“Nah, it was while the party was winding down. He’s pretty cute up close.” My heart was beating faster, and I could feel my cheeks starting to warm up.
“Ooh, Jenn has a crush on Devon,” Alicia surmised.
“Who doesn’t?” I asked, rolling my eyes and pretending to be less interested in the question than I was. “I hear he’s kind of a player, but everyone always says that about guys on the basketball team or whatever.”
“You heard right, though,” Samantha said, shaking her head.
“What do you mean? I mean if he’s single, it’s not like it’s a big deal for him to sleep around.” The girls around the table began to cluck with concern.
“It’s not just sleeping around,” Alicia said.
“Yeah, it’s way more than that. He’s a complete and total player.”
“How so?” I asked. Giselle shrugged.
“He totally manipulates girls,” Giselle said. “I mean, like—totally. He’ll make a girl think she’s really special to him.”
“Yeah, he’ll get all involved in conversations with her, be interested in whatever she has to say, and then as soon as he gets what he wants from her—he drops her.”
“Usually doesn’t even last longer than a night. He’ll corner a girl somewhere and just like, flirt up a storm, say what she wants to hear, and then it’s like he never met her the next day,” Alicia added.
“Do you remember Haley and Mackenzie?” Giselle asked.
“Oh—yeah! I remember that,” Alexis said, half-laughing and shaking her head.
“Haley and Mackenzie?” I asked, confused.
“These two sophomore girls. They were both after him for like weeks. He loved it; he totally pitted them against each other and watched them fight over him.” I felt colder and colder the more they said.
The stories kept coming; how Devon would set girls up, making them think that he was really a virgin, or how he would go after the “bunnies” who went to all the games. Someone in the group—I couldn’t even remember who, afterward—said that he’d “pass along” some of his groupies to the other guys in the frat, part of why he was such a legend and so popular.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; I honestly couldn’t believe that anyone could be so callous. I tried to eat my food, but my stomach started to churn inside of me. It was ridiculous. I tried to find out how much of what they were saying was just rumor and how much of it they actually knew for a fact.
No one in the group had had anything to do personally with Devon; that much was clear. “If you do have a crush on him, though, better to admire him from a distance,” Alicia said.
“Yeah, he’s great to look at and he’s a good basketball player, but he’s probably crawling with diseases anyway, and even if he’s not, he’ll just do whatever it takes to get you in bed and then drop you the next day.”
“It’s not like I’d ever have a chance in the first place,” I said, brushing off the idea. I didn’t want anyone to think that I had already had a “chance” with Devon. If I told anyone in the group that I’d slept with him the night before, it would just make them make fun of me.
I tried to keep up my end of the conversation while we sat around, none of us quite ready to go on to what we had going on that afternoon, especially those of us that had papers to write or classes to study for. I couldn’t help but think about what they had said, though. I had to think that Devon’s behavior towards me was not like what they were describing. It wasn’t like he’d gone out of his way to convince me to sleep with him; it had been a good conversation that had become a better conversation. Everything had been so natural. I just couldn’t think that Devon had gone into the situation to manipulate me.
“Well, I need to head to the Library,” Alexis said finally, gathering up her tray. Everyone started to wander away one by one and for a little while I was left on my own. I was torn between wishing that Kelly was there so I could talk to her more about the real situation and hoping that I wouldn’t see Kelly for a long time. I was so torn; none of my friends had had an actual personal interaction with Devon from what I knew. Everything they had told me was little more than a rumor, or what they heard about from different people on campus.
Had Devon just been manipulating me? I had to think that if he were going to do the sort of thing that they had accused him of, he would have convinced me to go back to the dorms, instead of letting me spend the night. I just couldn’t reconcile the way he had acted with the way that everyone said he was. It didn’t make any sense.
Then, too, I had to think that they sounded like the kind of rumors that would come up around a guy who slept around a lot, the kind of guy who had become a legend even among a bunch of partying, wild guys. Every single one of the guys on my high school football team had had several of the same rumors spread about them—and I knew for a fact that a bunch of the guys on the team had been in committed, monogamous relationships all through high school without cheating. But there was always that kind of rough and wild reputation that jocks tended to get.
On the other hand, so many of the rumors about Devon that they’d told me were so specific. What was the real story about Haley and Mackenzie? Had he really tried to egg them on when they fought over him? I couldn’t quite blame him if he had actually enjoyed having girls fight over him; it would be hard not to get at least a little thrill out of it. But it was a totally different thing to enjoy it, versus to actually encourage girls to fight over him. To try and egg them on and manipulate them into fighting over him.
It seemed to me like if Kelly had been warning me, she might have been sugarcoating things, if what the other girls said they knew about h
im was true. But at the same time I couldn’t even believe that anyone at all could be the way that they said Devon was. Sure, guys manipulated girls into having sex with them; it wasn’t good, but it was a thing that happened. But I couldn’t think that any guy, no matter how dedicated he was to sleeping around, would go so far as to target and manipulate someone so heavily and actually be successful. If everyone but me knew Devon was like that, how would he still be getting laid?
And at the bottom of it, I had just to believe that in spite of what they had said, my situation with Devon had been different. I would know—I would feel it—if he had manipulated me. I had made the decision to sleep with him all on my own. And it wasn’t like he’d stopped caring about me once I’d agreed to have sex with him. He had figured out on his own that I was a virgin, and he’d been so kind to me, so gentle, reminding me again and again that I could tell him to stop any time. It just didn’t make any sense. I put away my dishes and went back to the dorm, trying to decide whether or not I was still going to the game. It was a difficult decision. I still wanted to see the game, but I didn’t know how to feel about Devon.
I decided that I could enjoy watching him play and that I could go to the game just for the sake of the game, and maybe see if I could talk to him afterward. I would know what to think once I saw how he reacted to me. If he pretended like I didn’t exist or that he’d never met me, then my friends would be right; if he actually spoke to me afterward, I would have some hope. Besides which, I couldn’t see any point in wasting the money I had already spent on tickets.
Chapter Eight
I spent more time than I want to admit getting ready for the game. Before I had ever met Devon, I’d been able just to throw on an outfit and head over to the game, if it was on campus. If it was an away game, I’d pile into a car and head over to whatever school with a group of people, or I’d skip it if no one was going. But now that I had not only met Devon, but had had sex with him—and might actually see him after the game—there were a lot more things to think about.
I wanted to look at least as good as I had the night before, but I didn’t want to look like I was dressing up for the game. I didn’t want to look like those desperate girls who threw themselves at the players; I had seen them before, and even if I didn’t credit Devon with half of the rumors that my friends had told me about him, it was easy to see how members of the team would get laid whenever they wanted.
I changed my clothes three or four times, deciding against one skirt and then another, against jeans and then against a dress. I swapped the shirt that I had paired with one of the skirts with the shirt I had put with the pair of jeans and finally decided that it was good enough. I wouldn’t be jumping up and down crazily; I would be cheering, and while I wanted to look cute, I also wanted to be comfortable. I wore a pair of high-tops and put my hair into two braids on either side of my head instead of wearing it down. I tied off the braids with ribbons in the school colors and decided that I’d wear a little bit of makeup.
I felt my heart beating faster as I made my way across campus; I didn’t know if I would know anyone at the game, but I felt like anyone who saw me would know—would be able to see it on my face—that I had had sex with Devon. I told myself that I just wanted to watch the game and watch Devon play and that I wasn’t even going to think about what I’d heard about him while I was watching the game. I would just focus on the team as a whole. I wouldn’t worry about anything. I was just going to enjoy it.
A few times I considered running back to the dorms and changing into a pair of jeans. I knew I was overthinking things, but I figured that after losing my virginity, even if I had done it casually, I was entitled to overthink things a little bit. I wasn’t sure how exactly I was going to approach Devon after the game; I didn’t want to make a giant scene or embarrass myself. I wasn’t even sure, as I walked to the arena, whether or not I was going to even try and talk to Devon after the game.
The arena was packed with people; as I got closer to it, I could see the crowds coming in from the parking lot, merged with other crowds heading for the entrances from the campus side, just like me. Even if I didn’t have an ulterior motive for going to the game, it would be exciting just to see it. I knew that it would be absolutely packed with people inside—cheering for our team, mostly. My heart beat faster in my chest as I got in line for the entrance.
As the line crawled forward, I tried to stop myself from thinking about Devon and found it impossible; between the people in line with me, holding signs for Devon, and my own experiences—both with him and with my friends talking about him—my mind was absolutely full of him. I chewed on my bottom lip, feeling impatient, wanting nothing more than to get inside, find my seat in the arena, and watch the pre-game show.
The line inched forward, and I found myself getting more and more anxious to get inside. I looked around and saw people in jerseys, their faces painted, with signs. I wasn’t sure whether I would stand out more with or without similar loud, bright signs of my fandom; but even though I loved watching basketball, I was never the kind to paint my face or carry a sign. I just wanted to watch the game and cheer for my team.
I tried to decide whether it would be easier or harder with my friends with me. They’d probably tease me all night about being into Devon if they came along, but I at least would have someone to talk to other than bland smalltalk. I fidgeted, trying not to mangle my ticket as I waited to get to the gate.
Finally, I made it through the gate and into the arena proper, looking around until I found my seat. It wasn’t one of the best ones; those were reserved for the newspapers, the friends and family of the team, and alumni. But overall my seat wasn’t terrible. I could see the court just fine, and that was the important thing. I looked around me; the seats were already packed, and more and more people were streaming in, finding their spots. I was starting to get excited purely by the game itself—starting to get into the simmering, electric atmosphere. The cheerleaders were on the sidelines, doing routines, getting everyone pumped, and the band was playing—both bands.
The other team took the court and began warming up, and I watched eagerly; I wanted to see how good they were. I wished that I’d looked up the stats for the players before I’d left the dorms. The other team looked fairly fit, and from what I had heard about Valley State, they were good; not as good as our team, but they were more cohesive. Our team mostly depended on Devon; he was the shooting guard, with fairly decent defensive skills on top of his ability to score points. Valley State, from what I could recall—and from what I could see of their warm-up—was more team-oriented, with no real stars.
Our team came out onto the court, and I felt my heart beating faster as everyone cheered; the cheers got even louder as Devon appeared in his warm-ups, bouncing around, looking utterly focused. I smiled to myself in spite of the anxious way I felt, unable to quite take my eyes off of him. He was laughing and talking with the rest of the team, watching the Valley State players as they went through their drills. A shriek of excitement rippled through the crowd on my side of the arena as the team ventured out onto the court proper, taking one end of the court to do their own drills.
I stood, not even caring whether anyone could see me or not, fascinated by watching the way our team performed. Anyone could see that even without Devon, our team was good; with Devon, it was practically unbeatable. They passed the ball back and forth, moving on their designated side of the court like a well-oiled machine. I compared and contrasted the two teams mentally, wondering how prepared each coach was. If I were a coach, I thought, I’d keep my team focused on blocking Devon and getting in the way of Miles, one of the other secondary stars of the team. Miles wasn’t quite the scorer that Devon was, but he was great at assists and steals—definitely someone to watch out for. On the other team, it was hard to know whom to target specifically; their team-oriented play, with players switching positions easily, made it less than easy to pick someone out from the crowd. The players were versatile, which w
as a good thing—but none of them were quite as good at scoring as Devon was. It would be an interesting game, for sure.
I settled into my seat as the announcers started winding down on the pregame action, taking a deep breath. The players left the court, and the crowd stood again as someone took the center of the court to sing the national anthem. I looked at the sidelines and spotted Devon. It was as if I couldn’t miss him now that I’d met him; I’d never be able just to watch the game without watching him in particular. If he did turn out to be the awful person that Kelly and the rest of my friends claimed he was, I’d have to find another team to follow. I didn’t think that I could actually watch one of our games without wanting us to lose just to spite Devon—assuming that he was the person that everyone said he was.
The whole crowd held its breath at tip-off. The other team snatched the ball, but then Miles got in fast, executing an expert steal. I couldn’t sit still. I stood up with everyone else, cheering madly, watching as the team flowed across the court. Devon got the ball, and I nearly screamed as he scored the first point in the first thirty seconds, a two-point shot.
The game settled in, and I realized—along with everyone else—that if I kept cheering at full force, I’d have no energy for the second half of the game. For the first quarter, our team dominated; Devon landed five shots easily, in rapid succession, putting us quickly ahead. Valley state managed two shots, but they were still six points behind us. I found myself wrapped up in the game itself, watching the ball as it traveled from one end of the court to the other, jumping up with everyone else around me and sitting down when it was too much to take.
