The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  “Flower, come on now—”

  “Mitch, I was raised knowing the difference between love and lust, the latter being something to avoid.” I look over at him. “I need to focus on why I’m here. And you need to focus on healing your heart.”

  “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

  I turn fully toward him. “I followed you out of the cafeteria that day, because yes, I was totally into you. I overheard part of the conversation between you and Carla, and my instincts kicked in, and I ran all the way to my dorms.

  “When I ran into Fletcher, what you had said popped into my head. I ran right back to you, needing to make sure you were okay. I know …” I stop and shake my head, looking down.

  “Pardon my honesty, but you don’t know shit, Jamie.”

  I look up. “That’s the thing, Mitch. I don’t, and neither do you. We don’t trust each other with our deepest, darkest secrets. We’re playing a very intimate game with half the cards. I don’t ever want to feel like I have for the past four days. And trust me when I say, I don’t want you to either.”

  Mitch

  It was a fight, but she let me drive her home. I had to tell her another fucking secret, that while she was sleeping, Logan had asked me to snatch a sign that some bitches had been taping to their door since he outed her as a virgin, reading, “V-Squad.” I also told her to make damn sure they were not alone.

  “Weeks later. Thanks for the heads-up,” she mumbled.

  “Didn’t know until tonight, Jamie. I would have told you.”

  She huffed silently.

  When I walk back into the house after dropping her off, Logan is standing at the ready with coffee.

  “You good?”

  “I fucked up,” I admit.

  He nods. “We all do. Then we come up with a plan.”

  I shake my head. “I’m gonna leave her alone. She deserves better.”

  “Maybe she deserves”—he pauses and smirks—“Moore.”

  “Why the hell are you smiling and acting so …” I stop. “She talk to you?” I ask, referring to Elle.

  “Didn’t have a choice.”

  She may not, but Jamie does. She made that clear last ight, too.

  “They’ll be here after the game. Gotta be low-key, though.”

  I swallow a lump and nod.

  “And we’re having Friendsgiving on Tuesday.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Thanksgiving here. Just friends. Us and a few others. Friendsgiving.”

  “I’m heading home for Thanksgiving.”

  “I know … on Wednesday. That’s why we’re doing it on Tuesday.”

  I look down at the ground.

  “Freshie meat isn’t tainted, Mitch. We are.”

  “All of a sudden, you’ve become the Yoda of relationships?”

  “No, but there’s something between her and me that I don’t want to ignore. Difference between her and everyone else is she’s holding me to a higher standard.”

  “Past is always gonna be there.”

  He nods. “True, but I can’t let it do damage to any more of my future.” He laughs. “I’m lucky as fuck not to have gotten someone knocked up.”

  I nod toward my room. “Yeah, because that would fuck up everything.”

  “With the wrong girl, it could.”

  “We running today?” he calls after me.

  “Yeah, sure. Let me get a couple hours’ sleep.”

  JT still wasn’t speaking to me, and neither was Lilyanne. Talk about awkward, since I was still giving them rides to school, and it wasn’t daggers being thrown at me. Those looks were shared between blood, his, and hers.

  Everyone else was talking, though, about me and crazy Lilyanne. Didn’t bother me a bit … until I heard one of the guys say crazy was good between the sheets. JT was the one to pull me off Moose right before the game, Friday night under the lights. Lilyanne sat next to their foster folks, lit up and smiling … at me.

  We played no differently than we had every other game. We won and we’re on to States.

  High on her smile and soft eyes, as well as the fact that we were on top together, I cornered JT and told him he may not like it, but I was going to ask her out. Wasn’t fair that people like Moose were talking shit, and I wasn’t even allowed to hold her hand.

  He laughed in my face and told me, if I could get her to agree to date me, then go for it.

  Leaving the locker room, I walked right up to her, in front of her foster folks, and asked if I could take her to dinner. They asked if I was sure. She frowned. I told them yes and reached out my hand. She took it.

  We ate dinner amongst the snickers. She didn’t react, and neither did I. I just stared at her lips, wanting to taste them again.

  On the way back to her place, she asks, “Why me?”

  “Could ask you the same.”

  She doesn’t reply, so I do. “Just like the way you kiss. The way you become like warm butter and not so—”

  “Crazy?”

  I shrug. “Not saying that.”

  She laughs. “You’ve said it for years, Mitchell Moore.”

  “You got me there.”

  “You think I am?”

  “Not when you kiss me.”

  “Think your lips are magic?”

  To that, I laugh. “Let’s hope so. Kind of hard to kiss ’em if you’re locked up.”

  “Where do you think I learned to kiss?”

  I look over and smile. When she doesn’t return it, I ask the obvious, “You serious?”

  She nods and looks out the window.

  “Girls?”

  She nods again.

  “You like girls, Lilyanne? Because, if you do, that’s cool. But maybe you should let me know.”

  “I like some.” She shrugs. “The ones you kiss and stuff make sure the others don’t hurt you.”

  “You get hurt when you’re locked up?”

  She turns and looks at me. “Just once. Then I learned how to play the game.”

  “What’s and stuff mean?”

  She shook her head and looked down. “I’m not tellin’.”

  “Ten minutes, and I’m out,” Logan calls into my room, waking me up.

  I look toward Links’ seats and don’t see her. Then I look at Logan.

  He nods upward. “Student section.”

  “Who are all those people with your dad?”

  “José Cox and some of Tessa’s family, I think.” He nods left. “Let’s go warm up your arm.”

  Looking up at the student section, I see her, I think anyway. It’s pretty damn far away. Luck as hell, Logan’s dad has a section for basketball, too. But right now, I’d take that section in a fucking heartbeat to be next to her.

  Nah, fuck that. Only if she admitted she played one hell of a part in crushing cuddle season.

  Cuddle Season Crusher.

  After overthinking the hell out of it for a week, she sure as hell could have stopped the bullshit from happening that night had she just said it was José Cox’s coat.

  Walking out on the field, I look up. “You got me?”

  I know if it’s possible, she does; but Christ, it doesn’t feel that way right now.

  “Who you talking to?” Logan asks, looking up.

  I change the subject. “You ready for your last home game at the Dome?”

  He nods as he looks around. “Yeah, man, I’m ready for whatever is to come.”

  “Let’s break some records today, shall we?” I smack the back of his helmet.

  “Let’s fucking win.”

  I wink. “We can do both.”

  “This party is as lame as our game today,” Tank says before taking a drink.

  I look at Logan, who is pacing back and forth in front of the door. “Logan’s game was good. Broke every record he ever set here.”

  Logan looks over at me and rolls his eyes. When his phone chimes, he looks down at it then shoves it in his pocket. As he walks toward his room, he yells over his shoulder, “Chan
ge of plans. You all can Tweet out a party. I’m going out tonight.”

  I feel bad. Jamie probably didn’t want to come, so Elle blew him off because of me.

  I follow him to his room and see him grab his wallet and keys. “You going to her?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah, said she’d be here Tuesday.”

  I nod. “Cool.”

  He looks back. “Girls aren’t coming either.”

  “Where you heading?”

  “Just to clear my head. Message me when the place clears out.”

  I nod.

  Within an hour of the Tweet, the place is packed. And, when I see two girls approaching me, I realize right quick that they’re the ones from the other night.

  “Hey, Mitch.” They both take a side and rub up against me.

  “Sober tonight?” the blonde asks.

  “Yeah, haven’t drank since waking up the next morning and not remembering shit after drinking that last bit of Jack.”

  “You don’t remember two women on their knees—”

  “Not to be rude, but I was pretty fucked up.” I slide back. “Pretty much swore off alcohol.”

  They look at the beer in my hand.

  “It’s a decoy.”

  “A what?” The brunette laughs.

  “A decoy drink.” I shrug as I ask myself what the fuck I’m doing.

  “Well, you’re not drunk, so how about—”

  “Made a promise to someone.”

  “The girl from the video?”

  “Video?” I ask, knowing it’s the one JT was talking about, the one I’ve watched fucking daily.

  “At Sound.”

  I look toward the door, having no idea who the guys are coming in, but they become an excuse. “You ladies have fun. I need to go see a friend.”

  From behind me, I hear them bickering.

  I grab my hoodie and hat off the hook and decide to take a walk.

  “Hey!”

  I look back at Downs throwing his thumb over his shoulder behind him toward the girls.

  “You mind?”

  “You have my sincere blessing, man.”

  “I blame you for this, Links,” I pant out as I run up Einhorn’s pedestrian path and finally slow down at the base of the steps leading to the Hall of Languages, the building that used to be the whole of Syracuse University almost a hundred and fifty years ago.

  I look up as I begin to run up the stairs, and snow begins to fall from the sky. Not the light shit, either, but the big, fluffy stuff. And I have no damn coat on.

  Cutting across the grass to head toward Falk, I see a girl wearing a white hat, a thick white scarf, and mittens, arms raised above her head, looking up and spinning in a slow circle. When I hear her laugh out loud, I know exactly who it is.

  I slow down as I near her, and she looks at me. When she realizes who it is, her eyes widen, and her smile starts to falter.

  “First snow?” I ask, stopping, trying to catch my breath.

  She smiles slightly and nods.

  “What do you think?” I force myself to look up and catch her looking me over. When our eyes meet, I see she’s trying to see if I’m being sincere.

  “It’s cold,” she finally says.

  I laugh. “That it is.”

  “And it’s absolutely beautiful.”

  I look up, watching it fall, and nod. “Until about January 2nd. After that, it’s brutally cold, and you’re gonna wish you were back in the south. And you’ll be wondering why the hell you chose Syracuse University.”

  She looks up and smiles fondly at the sky. “Yeah, I’m sure. But right now, it’s beautiful.”

  “Stunning.”

  She smiles.

  “Jamie?”

  She drops her head and looks past me, toward the deep, male voice. “Hi.” She smiles at whoever it is she’s here to meet then looks at me.

  My eyes are narrowed, and hers are pleading.

  I look back and see José Cox approaching us.

  “Mitchell Moore.” He smiles and holds his hand out for me to shake.

  I look back at her, and she gives me a look, like please don’t blow my spot, man. I want to blow the fuck out of it.

  “You played one hell of a game, son.”

  I glance back and shake his hand. “Thanks.”

  “One more season?” he asks me.

  I nod.

  “What are your aspirations? Pro?”

  “Finish my degree and see where things go from there,” I answer coolly.

  “What are you studying?”

  Why the fuck are you asking me so many questions, old man? is what I want to say, but I don’t. I answer the fucker like a good boy. “Sports Management.”

  He smiles. “Great school. Great degree program.”

  “That’s what you started with, right?” Jamie asks sweetly.

  He looks at her kindly and nods. “It is.” He looks back at me. “How do you know Jamie?”

  As I eye him suspiciously. Jamie jumps in and answers for me. “My roommates and I met Mitch, and Logan Links our first day here.”

  “Who’re your roommates?” he asks her.

  “Elle, Christy, and Lisa,” I answer for her.

  His smile broadens. “Cool. And you?”

  “He lives with some of his teammates on South Campus, Logan being one of them.”

  “Good kid. Great family.” José smiles at her. “Where are you from, Mitch?”

  “Ohio,” I answer quickly.

  “Massillon,” Jamie adds.

  “All right.” He smiles and nods. “So, you’re used to this weather, then.”

  Now we’re talking about the fucking weather with this motherfucker?

  “He was just telling me that I’ll like it until about January 2nd.”

  I’m about sick of being a third wheel on this … whatever the fuck it is, but I’m not leaving this fuck with her, and he’s damn sure going to know I’m on to him.

  “You come here often?”

  José cocks his head, and a slow smile creeps up. He knows I’m on to him.

  “You came to see the game, right?” Jamie asks.

  “Game ended a good five—”

  I stop when she glares at me.

  “Sure did, Jamie, and to discuss a few things with Coach Brown.” He looks back at me. “Jamie,”—his eyes shift back to her—“nice running into you again.” He looks her up and down. “Girl, you really need to start getting used to wearing a coat.”

  “She has one,” I tell him, so the fucker doesn’t give her his again.

  He nods and looks back at me. “You see she gets back to her dorm, Mitch. Both of you have a great Thanksgiving.”

  “You, too,” Jamie says in a sickly-sweet voice.

  “Yeah,” I add. “You, too.”

  Jamie

  As José walks back toward the Promenade, I look up at Mitch. “You didn’t have to be rude.”

  “Really?” He throws his thumb over his shoulder in José’s direction. “He’s old enough to be your father.”

  “No kidding!” I snap.

  “I’m not fighting with you, and you can do whatever the hell you want, but that’s just fucked up, Jamie.”

  I hold one finger up. “First, yes, I can.” Then another. “Second, what are you even doing here?” And another. “Third, don’t you have a party to host?”

  He holds up one finger now. “First, don’t get wrapped up with that shit; his swimmers are probably dust clouds by now.” He holds up another. “Second, I’m clearly running.” And another. “Third, I’m over the party bullshit. And fourth, let’s go; promised your buddy, Cox, I’d get you back.”

  “I can walk by myself, thank you.”

  “Yeah, well, I promised your new ‘friend’ I would walk you.” He air quotes friend.

  “I’m a big girl; I can handle it.” I am so annoyed with him right now but afraid he’ll figure out the connection.

  He grabs the back of my shirt and yanks me back.

 
; “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Did you get a tour of this place or just decide to come here, sight unseen?”

  I snap my eyes up at him, and he rolls his.

  Annoyed, I respond, “Not everyone has a pervy app to pay their way.”

  “I came on scholarship, so don’t go—”

  “How’s that scholarship gonna work out if they find out about your ‘entrepreneurial ventures’?”

  He looks shook. Good. So am I. Mostly at the viciousness of my tone. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll leave me alone so I can focus on why I’m here.

  “Don’t back me in a corner, Mitchell Moore.”

  He shakes his head. “You’re un-fucking-real.”

  I do not whisper my reply to him being … him. “I’m fed up with feeling like this. Like I can’t even turn a corner without you being up in my business.”

  “Big school with a small-school feel. You’ll have that.” He grabs my elbow and pulls me along, pointing ahead of us. “This look familiar?”

  “Of course it does,” I huff.

  “Hall of Languages. But, did you know”—he changes his tone, mimicking a newscaster—“The Addams Family home from the movie was created in its likeness?”

  “Great.” I pull my elbow away. “I’ll google it.”

  When I start to walk away, he grabs my elbow again.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” He laughs, freaking laughs at me!

  “Lawrinson Hall,” I mimic his tone. “Did you know some females walk into that building with hopes, aspirations, dreams of who they can become?”

  He stops and looks back at me as if he wants to reply, but his eyes differ from how I’m used to them looking at me. Not in anger, not with lust, nor hurt or with the intention of being hurtful, but with longing. But, in a blink of his hazel eyes, it’s gone and now annoyance dances in their depths.

  He steps behind me, grips my shoulders, and leans in. “As you’re on your quest to become, keep in mind there’s at least one hateful female hanging signs on your door, a middle-aged man who seems to be lurking around dark corners, and the guy behind you hasn’t and never would harm a hair on your fucking head.”