Her First Kiss_Londons story

by Mj Fields

  “I’m sorry, but...” I pause. “It was a bad night.”

  “What was the worst part? Putting skanks in their place like a dozen times, all badass-like? You taking care of a friend and faking sick to make sure the job got done? You having today’s MVP basically admitting he has his head up his own ass about you and carrying you through a crowded party?”

  The way she says it, it almost romanticizes tonight’s events.

  “Or, is it the fact that you’re a virgin?” Jamie asks, and I want to die. “Because, so am I. I said it was my fault he’s acting like that because we get so close...I mean, head between my legs, doing the most disgusting but amazing things to my hooch with his tongue, and after I finish, I tell him no? He doesn’t know why. Well, he didn’t until tonight, and I only told him because he was passed out.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re a virgin?” Christy asks at the same time Lisa asks, “You let him eat you out?”

  “Yes and, oh God, yes,” Jamie answers both questions.

  When they start firing more questions at her, she reaches over and grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze and me a sad smile.

  My friend Jamie just threw herself out there to make me feel less embarrassed about tonight.

  If I push Logan out of my mind and allow my head to remind me of all the reasons I have waited to find real love and bask in the here and now, I think I would love college, too.

  I squeeze her hand back as we walk, listening to Jamie tell us all about the things we never saw going on with her and Mitch.

  18

  A Night Worth Forgetting

  Logan

  I wake up to the worst hangover I have ever had. I force myself off the bed and my eyes immediately fall on a pile of clothes.

  My stomach lurches when I see the fucking sweater, knowing it’s London’s.

  I lean back against the wall and try to wrap my head around the fact that I don’t remember shit after the I hate yous she screamed at me. And even though I was never supposed to touch her, I suppose what is done is done. If I’m honest with myself, having slept with her is a hell of a lot more of an appealing thought than her hating me. Now I just have Maddox to contend with.

  I look in the bathroom, expecting to find her inside. She’s not.

  Trying to figure out how the fuck to face her when she’s out there with my roommates is a- whole-nother fucking predicament I’m not ready to face. Oddly, the hangover from hell pales in comparison to this thought.

  As I piss, I try to remember details of last night, a night I got off to on my own several times, and I am at a loss. I fucked a virgin and don’t remember it? Even more importantly, I fucked London and don’t remember looking into her eyes as I slid inside her to see how good she looked with me in there?

  I stand at the sink and brush my teeth. I don’t want to blow morning beer breath in her face while we talk about everything that happened. I know her, and I imagine that talk is going to last at least a fucking hour. It will be worth it, though, because then I guarantee I will be able to replace those lost memories with new ones.

  I spit out the toothpaste and look down at my dick. “You need to take a break while we do this her way, big guy.”

  I throw on a pair of jogging pants and walk out, noticing Sunday football is on.

  “What time is it?”

  Four sets of eyes look up at me, none saying a damn word. I know damn well they are probably shocked that I had a girl stay all night, even more so that it’s a freshman, and that it’s Elle, a girl I have sworn I have no interest in. Doesn’t matter, though. Shit’s going to change, and I’m good with that. Really good, in fact.

  “Where is she?”

  Mitch looks at me like I’m crazy.

  “You all become mutes overnight? Where is she?”

  Mitch stands up slowly, his look turning to concern. I feel my heartbeat increase.

  “Her clothes are in my room.” I point backward. “Trust me when I say I didn’t expect to fuck her, but understand when I continue with, she’s not a one-night thing. She won’t allow that, and honestly, I’m fine with it. So, where the hell is she?”

  All of them get up. Schooler heads to the kitchen, while the rest stand in shock.

  Something’s not right.

  “Elle,” I yell as I walk toward the kitchen.

  “Logan, man—”

  “Elle.” I head to the bathroom, but she’s not in there.

  My heart is beating harder than hell against my chest when I walk out. “Where the fuck is she!”

  “Have a seat, man.” Mitch points to the couch.

  “I asked a fucking question. Where is she!”

  “She left shortly after she dragged that chick with the blue shirt by the hair out of your room half-naked.” Schooler hands me a cup of coffee then pats me on the back.

  I feel like I’m being bullshitted and like I’m going to be sick all at the same time.

  “Why the fuck are her clothes in my room?”

  Downs chuckles nervously. “She was in the shower after you flipped the beer pong table all the fuck over the place.”

  I shake my head. “More, give me fucking more.”

  Mitch sighs. “Have a seat, Links.”

  I do. I sit through an account of the entire night. Parts, I remember. More than half, I regret. The other parts, I have absolutely no recollection of and wish I never knew about.

  One thing echoes through my mind. Her voice and words when she said, “I. Hate. You!”

  “Where’s my phone?” I ask Schooler.

  “Nightstand.”

  I stand up and hurry to my room. I have messages from Mom, Ava, Dad, but no London.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I decide going to her is a better option than calling. She can’t hang up on me then.

  * * *

  On the way to Lawrinson and against the advice of Mitch before my threat to him that, if he calls her, I will fuck him up, I call my sister Ava.

  “You did amazing yesterday!” she answers.

  I frown. “Thanks, Ava. What was your favorite part of the game?” I ask, knowing damn well she probably got a call from Dad and didn’t watch a second of it.

  “The part you made a touchdown.”

  “Yeah, that was cool,” I reply coolly, even though I would prefer her of all people not bullshit me.

  Silence.

  “How are my niece and nephew?” I ask.

  “Perfect, Loggie, they’re perfect,” she answers quietly.

  “How about my sister? How is she doing?”

  “Great. They sleep a little more, so I’m finally taking the advice to sleep when they do.” She does sound a little better than usual.

  “Coming home for Thanksgiving?”

  “Of course.” Her quick response is bullshit.

  “Driving or flying?”

  “Driving, why?”

  “I can fly down and drive back up with you,” I offer.

  Her not so quick reply will be followed by more bullshit.

  “Hey, they are waking up. Let me call you back?”

  “Love you, Ava.”

  “Love you, too.” Sadness, that’s what her voice sounds like, sadness.

  * * *

  I walk into the building and get on the elevator with a bag of her clothes in my hand and a dome-sized knot in my stomach. I am focusing on the fact that she dragged a bitch out of my room by her hair because “I. Hate. You!” is not a place I want to be.

  When I get off the elevator, I am met with a very fucking harsh look from that fuck Fletcher and keep on walking until I get to her door.

  I take a breath as I look at the silver plate that says 8Q and knock on the door.

  When it opens, it’s Lisa, whose name I forgot once and won’t again.

  I grab the bag of donuts out of the bag containing London’s clothes and hand them to her.

  “What’s this?” she asks.

  “Donuts,” I answer, walking past her toward London’s room.
/>
  “She’s not here,” Lisa yells from behind me.

  Two doors open, and then Jamie and Christy are looking at me.

  I ignore Lisa and knock once before opening her door. Her bed looks unslept in.

  I consider leaving the bag in her room, but then I realize I won’t have an excuse, as shitty as it will be, to come back later so I can fix this fucking mess.

  “Where is she?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” Jamie spews, “but she went home for a couple days.”

  “Fuck. Right. Okay. Thank you.” I head toward the door.

  “Why don’t you just leave her alone?” Jamie asks.

  I turn around and glare at her. “Why don’t you just suck a dick or put out already?”

  “What!”

  “He fucking likes you, Jamie. He likes you a lot, and you fuck with him. Do you not get that he has fucking feelings, too?”

  Silence, and Jesus L. Christ, do I feel like a fucking vagina.

  Needing to save face, I open the door and look back at her. “Don’t be a bitch to him.”

  As soon as I’m out of the elevator, I call her, but it goes to voicemail. I don’t even know what I want to say, but sorry, forgive me. I can’t do that, though, and I know she won’t talk to me. I consider sending a message, yet that isn’t guaranteed face time with her.

  So, I do the only thing I can do to guarantee it. I get in my truck and drive.

  I call Maddox on my way. It won’t be obvious because we check in a few times a week, and this way, I can find out where she is.

  “Hello,” he answers coldly. I know I’m fucked.

  “What’s up?”

  I hear a door shut. “Preparing to host family dinner here. London is here, and Lucas, Tessa, CJ, and Matthew are over here talking about how much fun they had yesterday with London and her roommates. I hear you did an amazing job.”

  Fuck no, yesterday sucked. “Did okay. I’m on my way back.” I hit the gas to speed up the drive.

  Before I invite myself, he does. “Shall I set another plate?”

  “That would be really cool.” Fuck, I told Dad I wouldn’t be home. “I’ll call Dad and let him know.”

  “Sounds great. See you soon.”

  “Need anything?” I ask, because it’s the right thing to do.

  “No, we’re all set.”

  I know he doesn’t know a thing and I am so fucking glad he doesn’t.

  * * *

  When I walk in, it’s not as fucking awkward as it could be. Piper runs full speed toward me, and I crouch down, bracing for the impact of a three-year-old with more damn energy than I have today.

  When she comes to an abrupt stop, I’m shocked.

  Then she walks up, puts the back of her hand on my head, and giggles. “You’re okay.”

  “Of course I am.” I scoop her up and throw her around my back to her favorite spot. She wraps her legs and arms around me and giggles. “You gedda meet Weed!”

  She’s referring to her baby brother Reed.

  “Again?” I laugh. “I gedda meet him again?”

  As soon as we walk in, Dad stands up and walks toward me. He stops and looks at me. Then he puts the back of his hand to my head just like Piper did and says, “No fever.”

  “Do I look that bad?” I ask.

  “You look like...” Smirking, he pauses and gives my shoulder a squeeze as we walk into the dining room full of people. “Like you had one hell of a night.”

  Fucking wonderful, I think as I scan the room.

  “You gedda set next to Wondon and me.” Piper starts her dismount, and I crouch down. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she’s running toward two empty seats.

  “And me,” Lexington yells to me.

  I nod to her. Even she looks at me oddly.

  “Gonna use the bathroom and wash my hands first.” I give an excuse to go look in the mirror.

  Standing at the sink, I see my eyes are bloodshot as hell, my hair’s a fucking mess, and my three-day growth looks like I haven’t shaved in two weeks. Add to that a very faint hand mark on my face that I have no clue where it came from.

  I open the cabinet, looking for something—a fucking comb, Visine, a razor. No, a razor would be too obvious, and then I would have to explain the hand mark that thankfully no one has mentioned yet.

  I’m fucked. Totally fucking fucked.

  I shut the cupboard and turn on the faucet to wet my hair, wondering what the fuck I was thinking not wearing a hat.

  When I walk out, Piper is on her knees in the chair next to London.

  “Ova hewe, Wogan.” She beams.

  When my eyes meet London’s, she looks away quickly.

  Here we go. Nothing awkward about this. Nothing unusual about London not fucking with me, giving me shit, being...her at a thing like this.

  “So, what brings you home? We thought you were staying in Syracuse this long weekend?” Tessa asks with a warm smile.

  Nothing more awkward than that.

  Fuck it.

  “Wasn’t feeling like part two of a victory party,” I answer, sitting down.

  “You look”—Lexington stops—“kinda bad.”

  I wait for London to jump in. She normally would be all over that.

  Apparently, everyone else does, too, because all eyes fall upon her.

  She looks up and around the massive table. “What?”

  Harper giggles. “Lexi just told Logan he looks bad; we’re just waiting for you to...you know.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t notice.” She looks back down.

  “That’s because you’re hiding your phone under the table,” Lexington snitches her out. “Breaking the rule. No phone at the table.”

  London rolls her eyes at her then sets the phone on the table.

  “You feeling okay, princess?” Brody asks. “It’s not like you to let things like that slide.”

  “Just, you know, school stuff.” She sighs and sits back, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “You can just come home. We haven’t rented out your room yet.” Lexington giggles.

  London smiles and bumps her shoulder against hers.

  Tessa clears her throat. “She has wonderful roommates, doesn’t she, CJ?”

  He laughs. “How the hell was I supposed to know Red was eighteen?”

  “Christy?”

  London looks at me, expressionless, and looks away. No eye roll. No nothing.

  “That one was gonna kick my—” He stops when Tessa elbows him, warning him to not curse. “Rear. Coming at me all tiny little hands, gonna rip my Pitt hoodie off. It was hot.”

  “Then you should have taken it off yourself if it was so hot,” Lexington tells him.

  Everyone laughs, except London.

  “That was funny,” Lexington whispers to her. “I was funny, like you’re supposed to be.”

  “You sure you’re feeling okay?” Emma asks London.

  She nods, and the smile appears. “I was just thinking it was a good thing CJ did, actually. You see”—she leans forward and tosses a thumb at me—“this one’s roommate led Christy to believe he liked her, then went after my other roommate Jamie.”

  Tessa smiles. “Lucas’s Jamie?”

  London nods. “Yep. I have the coolest friends in the world finally, and”—she shrugs—“I’m lying to them, and it’s wrong. But it’ll come to light, and I will be that girl all the little bitches from here said I was, only for real now.”

  “London, you said bitches,” Lexington whispers.

  “Sorry, Lexington. I’m just...” She shrugs. “I’m over it.”

  “Then come home,” Lexington pleads.

  “I’m sure I will end up back here sooner than later.”

  “No one is going to find out, London,” Brody begins. “We’ve made sure—”

  She laughs angrily and glares at me. “You know how cute you all thought it was that I had what may have been a little crush on him?”

  Lexington giggles nervous
ly, while I keep looking into her glacial stare.

  “Well, all those bimbos from around here morphed into bimbos up there, and because you can’t stop trying to tell me what to do, or exposing my ‘innocence’ ”—she air quotes in front of an entire party—“I have the zombie apocalypse of plastic-enhanced sleaze buckets trying to find out who the girl is that The Missing Links is spending way too much time with instead of spreading around—” She stops herself.

  “Spreading around what?” Lexington asks.

  “Football cheer,” she answers.

  “Like Christmas cheer at football time?”

  “Exactly like that.” London nods then looks back at me.

  “I didn’t mean to tell them you were a”—I pause and air quote—“ ‘innocent’.”

  “But you did!” she yells at me. “You made me look like a complete and total idiot.”

  “Well, had you listened to me and not played water pong with such large ‘stakes,’ maybe it wouldn’t have happened,” I retort.

  “Well, maybe if you weren’t drinking so much ‘Kool-Aid,’ you’d have thought before you spoke.”

  I hear Matthew and CJ chuckle and turn to glare at them.

  “You two.” CJ laughs. “Man, this has been coming for years. Time to—”

  “What exactly has been coming?” Brody asks.

  CJ smirks. “Sorry to be the one to shed light on this subject, but London is way more Ross than you seem to realize.”

  “Meaning?” Brody snarls.

  “Meaning she’s full of piss and vinegar.” Dad laughs.

  “I can assure you, Dad,” London says, leaning over to get a better look at him, “you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  Brody’s eyes widen as he looks at me. “Better fucking not.”

  “Dad, you said—”

  “Don’t you even, young lady,” Emma interrupts her.

  “I’d suggest the two of you go discuss this as adults in the other room,” Maddox finally pipes in.

  “I think they’re good right here,” Brody says firmly.

  “I messed up last night. I’m sorry, London. It was wrong. I was drinking—”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t drink!” she snaps.