by Claire Adams
“Come to the game tomorrow,” Devon suggested. “We’ll meet up right after, and get some ice cream, talk about what’s gotten you so angry at me that I have to track you down to the movie theater to get you to talk.” I smiled, almost unwillingly, but nodded.
“Okay. The game tomorrow night.” I felt my heart beating a little faster; the last time I had tried to talk to him after the game, I’d walked up on him kissing another girl. Devon gave me another kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll catch you then. I’ll be looking for you, Jenny.” I rolled my eyes.
“So you’re going to ruin a perfectly good opportunity by calling me a name I told you I hate?” Devon’s lips twitched with a smile.
“Did it ruin it?” I felt my cheeks warming up.
“Go—before you do ruin it,” I told him, giving him a little shove. Devon tousled my hair and moved off, giving me another flirty grin as he made his way out to his car in the parking lot.
I wondered as I walked out to my own car, just how long he’d been waiting. When had he figured out where I’d gone—and how? I shook my head. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that Devon was being so persistent. In one way, it was incredibly flattering; but it was also more than a little creepy. I’ll just let him speak his piece, and find out what he has to say about the whole thing. As if he has anything to say. But it’s only fair. I worried at my bottom lip as I climbed into my car. It was nice, at least, that I wouldn’t have to avoid the basketball game.
By the time I had gotten back to the dorms, I had decided that I wasn’t going to tell anyone about the meeting with Devon; not even Kelly. I didn’t want any of my other friends to tease me about it—and I was sure they would. And with Kelly, I didn’t want her to know I was meeting with Devon; I thought that it would either end up with her telling me to use the opportunity to get revenge on him, or with her telling me it was a big mistake to even listen to him. I had to admit it felt like one of the worse decisions I’d made in my life, but I couldn’t help being curious as to what he would actually have to say for himself. We will see just how slick he is. Or if he even cares. He had seemed so incredibly sincere, and I thought that if he was just interested in getting laid and going to the next girl, he was definitely taking a lot of troubles; why would a guy who was just interested in easy sex go so far as to track me down when I left campus?
The whole next day I was almost vibrating with the secret I was keeping from my friends. I managed to make it through my classes without getting incredibly distracted, but every time I met up with someone I knew—Alicia, or Giselle, or even Kelly—the urge to tell someone what I had planned leaped to the tip of my tongue. At dinner, when everyone was talking about what their plans were for the night, Kelly tried to get me interested in going to one of the club events: a movie night with popcorn and candy, arts and crafts.
“I think I’m just going to hit the library and get some extra studying done,” I said, shrugging.
“Dude, you’re going to burn out at the rate you’re going. You need a night off sometimes!” I rolled my eyes.
“I took practically the whole weekend off. I didn’t do any studying at all Friday or Saturday. I gotta keep on point, don’t I?” Kelly gave me a look that was something like suspicion.
“There probably won’t be too many people at the event anyway,” she said, relenting. “After all, half the school’s going to be at the game.”
“All the more reason for me to take advantage of the Library being quiet,” I said, giving her an innocent smile. Whatever she suspected, she didn’t say anything.
I slipped out of the dorms with just enough time to get to the arena before the game started, feeling both guilty and excited at the same time. It was weird to have a secret from Kelly—but I didn’t want to know what she thought about meeting with Devon.
I barely made it to the arena and then to my seat just before the start of the game, my heart pounding. I thought about what Kelly said—that half the student body would be there. I could only hope that no one I knew would see me. I sat down just in time to watch the team run out onto the court. Devon looked out over the audience as he made his way to warm up. I felt and saw his gaze flick towards me—and he grinned. I laughed in spite of myself, reacting to my nervousness and my giddiness alike. It’s probably nothing, I thought firmly. Maybe he wasn’t even looking at you.
But throughout the game, Devon kept glancing in my direction. He grinned, his eyes glimmering every time he looked up. I couldn’t help feeling a little flutter in my heart every time. You're so stupid, I told myself, shaking my head. Maybe he’s just looking at everyone in this section. I glanced around. There were at least a dozen girls who were every bit as pretty as I was right in the same section. Either that or he’s just buttering you up to get you to take his side when he talks to you afterward. I tried to keep myself firm, keep from giving into his charms—but I found myself becoming giddier, more excited to talk to him after the game, in spite of the little voice in the back of my head that told me I might run into the same situation I had before. Surely he’s not that stupid, I told myself. He’s obviously not going to just make out with some girl when he knows I’m going to be right there.
Chapter Seven
If I had been less distracted by Devon and the fact that I was going to meet with him after the game, I probably would have been able to pay more attention to the game itself; even though my mind froze every time he looked at me, though, what I did see was exciting in its own right. If he fucks this up, I am still not giving up on basketball, I told myself firmly. The team we were up against was a strong one; like ours, they had a star player—someone who was definitely enough to give Devon a run for his money. I watched as the ball went from one end of the court to the other, with the defensive players shifting around, the offense moving to steal. For the whole first quarter of the game, it was even—we would score and then they would score.
In the second quarter, Devon managed to get the team ahead by three baskets, and I saw the two coaches settling in for a battle; this was going to be a hell of a game—even if I couldn’t pay enough attention to it to really make it worth the price of my ticket, I was so distracted by Devon. He moved like a pro already, quick on his feet, focused whenever he wasn’t glancing in my direction. Miles—his second-in-command on the team—was on his A game as well, snatching the ball away, passing quickly. It was hot and heavy, almost no baskets scored in the quarter, and my heart was pounding almost as much from the energy in the crowd as it was because of Devon’s attention.
During halftime, I couldn’t even pay attention to the cheerleaders and the bands as they did their routine. I was thinking of Devon, sitting in the locker room, cooling off, catching his breath. I wondered what the two teams’ coaches would do in the second half; but I was more concerned with the possibility of Devon getting injured, or something happening that would keep him from talking to me after the game. It was also only too easy to let my mind wander to thoughts of Devon taking a shower afterward. I shivered in my seat, feeling the rush of heat at the memory of how he looked naked. I am not going to have sex with him. I am just going to hear him out and decide what I want to do.
The game heated up in the third quarter; Devon ran out onto the court and beamed at me, and I laughed even as I hoped that he would be able to at least focus enough to keep scoring. I watched as the team upped the offensive game, stealing the ball, scoring quickly, and counting on speed and baskets to keep them ahead instead of counting on the defense to stop the other team. By the fourth quarter of the game, though, the coach shifted again; we were fifteen points ahead, thanks to Devon and Miles. As long as the other team didn’t get any points, we were the undisputed winners.
I waited for the furor in the crowd to die down, waited until I saw the team go into the lockers from the court before I left my seat. My heart was pounding in my chest the whole time, my whole body vibrating with excitement. I didn’t want to make it too obvious what I was doing—even th
ough I saw more than a few basketball bunnies hanging out near the locker room entrance, waiting for a chance to talk to one of the players in general and Devon in particular. Everyone wanted to talk to Devon; every girl wanted to be with him. If you believe what he said, I thought as I waited, then he wants you. If you believe him.
Devon came out of the locker room quickly, spotting me the moment he was through the door. He’d taken a shower—and for a moment I flashed at the thought of him naked once more—and he smiled as he made a beeline towards me, ignoring all of the girls who fought for his attention. “Hey, you stayed!” he said, grinning even more broadly.
“I agreed to, didn’t I?” I shrugged. Devon laughed and put his arm around my shoulders.
“So, what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” I rolled my eyes.
“Really, that’s your conversation opener?” Devon shrugged.
“I figured it was a good one. Do you want to ride with me or meet me there?” I considered the question. If I rode by myself in my car, then I would be able to leave whenever I wanted. “Or we could walk,” Devon pointed out. “It’s not that far.”
“Let’s walk,” I suggested.
I was surprised that Devon didn’t bring up the topic of what was going on between us all the way to the ice cream shop; he asked about my day, asked about my classes, and what I thought of the game. I felt myself starting to relax and tried to stop it—after all, I was supposed to just be letting him speak his piece, not letting him get underneath my skin, charm me again. If I gave him too much leeway, I was sure he was just going to get me just as blind as I had been before.
When we arrived at the shop, he stopped and flashed me the most charming smile he had. “Now you really do have to tell me what your favorite flavor is,” he told me, gesturing to the case. “Because how else am I going to get it for you if you don’t?” I laughed.
“It’s strawberry,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Two strawberries,” Devon said to the employee. “Make ‘em both doubles, in a waffle bowl.” I was surprised that there weren’t more people at the ice cream shop; the tables outside were nearly empty. Devon collected our ice creams and paid, and I followed him out onto the terrace, feeling my heart beating faster.
“Did you get strawberry because you like it,” I asked, eyeing him as I sat down, “Or because you wanted to look good in front of me?” Devon shrugged.
“It’s not my favorite, but I like it.” I rolled my eyes at him again.
“You should have gotten what you wanted!” Devon shrugged again, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“I want what you want,” he told me, taking a huge bite of his ice cream. I shook my head, breaking off a piece of the waffle bowl and taking a bite of it.
“Okay,” I said slowly, digging into my ice cream even as my cheeks started to burn with a blush. “So we need to talk before we figure out what…” I looked up. “What this is, or whatever.” My cheeks got redder.
“So what did I do wrong? Was it falling asleep? Not getting your number?” I worried at my bottom lip, swallowing the tightness in my throat.
“It wasn’t… it wasn’t anything you did that night,” I said. “I just have heard a lot of things about you since that happened…” I shrugged.
“What kind of things?” Devon asked, though there was a look in his eyes that suggested to me that he probably had a good idea.
“That you’re a player,” I said flatly. “You—you sleep around with girls, you do whatever it takes to convince them to have sex with you, and then you drop them. That…that you even egg girls on and try and get them to fight over you.” Devon’s lips twisted, and he looked away for a moment. He brought a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth and sucked on it.
“It’s true—or at least it was,” he said quietly. “I have to be straight with you if I want a chance, right?”
“I’m not promising you have a chance,” I said. Devon smiled.
“But if I lied to you, then it wouldn’t make it any better, would it?” I shook my head. “Yeah, I have a reputation for a reason.”
“So why should I trust you?” I took another bite of my ice cream, gulping it down. “I mean—if you admit that you’re a player, that you’re just looking to rack up the numbers…” Devon plunged his spoon into the melting ice cream and looked at me levelly.
“I admit that I was the worst kind of guy in the frat,” he said. “Was. I didn’t know what I was doing; I was just having a good time.” He held my gaze. “But I really like you.”
“That’s what guys always say,” I pointed out, smiling wryly.
“I do. And because I really like you, and I really want to have a chance to be with you—not just get laid, but actually date you—I know I can’t do that. You deserve respect. If you give me a chance, I swear I’m not going to run around on you.”
“How many girls have you said that to?” I raised an eyebrow. Devon grinned.
“None, actually.” He held my gaze. “Because I never wanted to be with someone—not like this. It’s only ever been you.” I took another bite of my ice cream, ignoring the little tingle in the roof of my mouth that told me that if I didn’t slow down, I was going to get brain-freeze.
“That’s not all,” I said slowly. I swallowed, setting my ice cream aside for a moment. “There’s also the fact that…” I took a deep breath. My heart was pounding. “The last game, I went over to the lockers to talk to you. I wanted to get your side of things after I heard so many people talking shit.” Devon nodded.
“I didn’t see you—did something happen?” I stared at him.
“I turned the corner and you were kissing some girl, less than twenty-four hours after you took my virginity!” I somehow managed to keep my voice low, in spite of the frustration I felt. Devon’s eyes widened.
“Shit. Oh, my god—of course you saw that. If you were going around to talk to me after the game. Shit, Jenny, you have it all wrong.”
“Don’t call me Jenny,” I said quickly. “And what do you mean I have it all wrong? Was it someone other than you kissing—whoever that was?” Devon shook his head.
“No, it was me, but I wasn’t kissing her; she was kissing me.” I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, come on; that’s the oldest excuse in the book.” Devon reached across the table and grabbed at my hands.
“I’m serious. Look: listen to me, just hear me out.” I exhaled, sitting back slightly in my chair and looked at him silently for a long moment.
“Go on.”
“So I came out of the locker rooms, and this girl was waiting for me,” Devon said. “I know her okay, but I’m not seeing her or anything. She says hello, I say hi back, and the next thing I know she’s grabbing me and has her tongue down my throat.” I bit my bottom lip, not certain whether I could—or even wanted to—believe him. “I pushed her away—you must have already seen it and left by then. I swear, Jenn. I was so shocked at what she’d done that I didn’t react or stop her, but I did push her away.” I held his gaze for a long moment; he had seemed so alarmed when I mentioned the kiss—but that could have been because he hadn’t thought I would see 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 y
ou 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.
