The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  The walls are a light grayish-blue, adorned with what you would expect in a guy’s place—sports and movie posters. I expect to see naked cheerleaders, but as I scan the room, my eyes fall on two huge poster-sized canvas pieces. Although it makes me a little sad, I smile at the miracles that are Chance and Hope.

  Hope looks like her father Thomas with her blonde hair and blue very soulful eyes. Thomas, who for all intents and purposes, has been a brother to me for almost as long as Maddox has. I still can’t believe he’s gone. And Chance, he’s all Ava, with his dark hair and bright blue eyes that scream life.

  “This place is huge,” I comment as I take a beer from one of the guys. Downs, I think, who is filling glasses from the keg.

  The kitchen isn’t big, but it’s very modern, with stainless steel appliances and a bar with eight stools that separates the wide-open space.

  “Bedrooms are show boxes,” he murmurs. “Links wanted bathrooms in them, and since he’s the man, that’s what we got.”

  “Perk of being an SU footballer.” Schooler winks.

  “Perk of alumni underbidding the competition so his kid has a killer pad,” Downs corrects him.

  “Let’s grab a place to sit,” I suggest, again feeling weird about possibly running into Logan, but hey, he could have answered his messages.

  Sitting on one of the three overstuffed brown leather couches, warm beer in my hand, because I have no intention of drinking, we try to blend in.

  “Are we underdressed?” Jamie whispers.

  I laugh. “No.”

  “But those girls.” She points to the blondes.

  “Those girls look like they’re supposed to be at a club or on a stripper pole, not a house party after a college football game.” I roll my eyes. I would add that they are Logan’s type, but I’m not supposed to know. So, here I sit, using every tool I have in my arsenal of how to mask my feelings of utter disgust by the women, and I use that term as loosely as I assume their lady parts are, that Logan hangs with.

  “Hey.”

  I look up at the sound of female voices and see plastic smiles.

  I give them my very own plastic smile. “Hey.”

  “Are you the girl Logan Links has been spotted spending all his time with?” one asks.

  “What?” I force a laugh.

  The girl holds out her phone out. There’s a picture collage of him and I at Sound, with the caption, “The Missing Links has been spotted.”

  I immediately worry I will be recognized, but thankfully, my hair is in my face in all of them.

  “First of all you’re supposed to leave your phone at the door, and second, we’re friends,” I tell them, trying to sound dismissive.

  Three of them sit down on a couch opposite us. The coffee table between us is littered with half full red cups.

  Blonde one leans over and says, “Logan Links doesn’t do friends.”

  “No, just one-night stands,” I reply sarcastically.

  “So, you’re saying that when he carried you out of Sound, you didn’t fuck him?” Blonde two laughs.

  “I was a little more concerned with breathing,” I inform them.

  “See? She’s into him,” the other says.

  “No, I was in near anaphylactic shock, caused by a peanut allergy.”

  When they just look confused, a million blonde jokes run through my head.

  “He took her to the hospital,” Lisa clarifies.

  “You were at the game with his family today,” the one with lipstick on her teeth seethes.

  “His dad, number 12, Lucas Links, he invited us,” Jamie says proudly.

  “Because she’s fucking him.” She points at me.

  I laugh. “Sweetie, I wouldn’t fuck him with your vagina.”

  “Oh please, his dick is legendary.” The first one cackles.

  I roll my eyes. “Is that so?”

  “Like huge,” another says, holding her hands out wide.

  “I hate to break it to you, but he pissed outside his truck before taking me to the hospital. You know the one that’s jacked-up off the ground screaming overcompensating! and well, since I heard the same, I had to look.” When they lean in, I hold up my pinky. “Myth busted. It’s tiny.”

  “No,” one gasps.

  The bimbo in the blue shirt crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t believe you.”

  I shrug. “I don’t really care.”

  “Why on earth would everyone else but you say it’s huge?” she asks.

  Clearly, I don’t care wasn’t enough, and honestly, I really don’t care to talk about Logan’s dick to a bunch of empty-headed balloon-filled hookers, but in an effort to amuse myself, I play along.

  “Maybe because they don’t want to look like scorned hookers after a lousy lay that they spent way too much time preparing for, only to be in a room”—I wave my hand about—“objectifying themselves to gain his attention amongst a room full of dozens of blonde, fake-breasted SU football groupies just like them?”

  Jamie covers her mouth. “Oh, hell.”

  When they all stand at the same time, I expect them to be bitches.

  “The line forms to your left.” I smile and point right.

  They all look right, and I laugh to myself.

  “Where?”

  “Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor.” Christy laughs.

  Jamie hugs me. “You are so much livelier out and about!”

  I hug her back. “Stupid people seem to bring that out in me.”

  Lisa leans forward. “Are you seriously okay with him hooking up?”

  “We’re friends, Lisa. That’s it, I swear.”

  She scrunches up her nose in disbelief.

  “I would never be with a guy who liked girls like that.” I thumb in the direction they headed without looking.

  “Well,” her voice is higher, “I guess that’s a good thing, because the Missing Links has been spotted.”

  We all turn and watch Mitch and Logan. For a brief moment, I take him in. Low-riding, light denim jeans; a black tee-shirt that hugs his bulging arms, shoulders, and chest; a white hat turned backward, his black hair peeking out from under it and curling up slightly. Then there is his clean-shaven face, and his dimples on full display.

  He and Mitch are basically holding each other up. They are kind of an adorable bromance to watch. When Mitch sees us and smiles a big, drunken, dopey smile, Logan walks in the other direction, the blonde in the blue shirt taking off with him.

  “Boy, is she going to be disappointed.” Christy laughs.

  I turn around and laugh, too, even though I really don’t think it’s funny.

  Mitch walks over and bends down, giving Jamie a kiss on the cheek. “Didn’t think you were coming.”

  “Said we would,” she replies, sitting back and holding in a grin.

  “I’m glad you did.” He holds out his hand, stumbling.

  “How drunk are you?” Christy huffs in disgust.

  “Had to do something while I was waiting for you.” He continues to grin while looking at Jamie.

  “Mitchy.” A blonde comes up from behind him and hugs him.

  Oh no, I think and look at Jamie.

  “You ready for your prize?” She runs her hand down his waist and is almost grabbing his junk when he wiggles free.

  “Back off,” he says, stepping away from her.

  “I thought—”

  “You thought wrong,” he cuts her off.

  “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.” She tries to kiss his cheek, but he pulls away.

  “Not a chance.” He holds his hand back out to Jamie. “Come with me.”

  She looks disgusted and somewhat hurt. “Not a chance.”

  “Nothing happened,” he says with an almost painful expression on his face.

  “And nothing’s gonna here either. Now leave me alone.”

  “I’ll give you a few minutes. I’ll be back, though, and then you and I—”

  “
Screw you,” she snaps.

  He looks shocked as he looks over at me. “Too soon?”

  “That’s a massive understatement.” I look away from him because I would rather not kick him in the junk right now.

  “I’ll be back.” He steps back and knocks some cups off the table. “I’ll be back to clean that up. Then I’ll be back when you have time to process that I didn’t want—”

  “Go!” Jamie yells at him.

  “Okay.” He holds his hand out then pulls it back and lifts both hands in the air. “Okay.”

  “Bathroom?” I whisper.

  She nods.

  “We’re going to the bathroom,” I tell the girls.

  “We’ll come, too.” Christy and Lisa stand up to join us.

  The line is obnoxiously long, and Jamie’s tear dam is about to burst.

  “Play along,” I whisper.

  I bend down and grab my stomach. “Gonna throw up.” I stumble for added effect, and a bunch of Logan’s type quickly move out of the way.

  “Oh, God, I’m going to blow chunks all over,” I wail, hearing Lisa giggle behind me as more overdressed idiots move away from the line.

  “Oh, let us help you.” Christy appears at my side.

  I reach back to grab Jamie’s hand. “It’s going to fly out of me and get all over everyone!”

  The bathroom door opens as the line of people run for cover. Logan stumbles out, buttoning his pants. I crouch down even farther so he doesn’t see me. Once past him, I then stand up and hurry inside.

  I see blue shirt applying lipstick and want to throw up for real now.

  She looks up at her reflection, sees me, and then turns around. “You’re so full of shit. He’s massive.” Nose in the air, she starts to walk past us.

  “You have whore on your forehead, cum on your chin, and toilet paper stuck to your hooker heels,” Jamie spits at her.

  Oddly, only one of three things that Jamie pointed out seems to bother her.

  She looks down at her heels, and Lisa hip-checks her, making her fall out the door.

  “Oops.” Lisa slams and locks the door.

  Jamie looks at me. “Elle, I’m sorry I made you—”

  “Nope. No. This is not about me. It’s your breakdown,” I tell her as she wraps her arms around me and the tear dam breaks.

  “I hate him,” she sobs out. “I hate him, and I like him. I’m mean to him, and he makes me so happy. I did this. I pushed him to her.”

  “Oh, heck no,” I tell her. “No, you didn’t. He’s a grown-ass man-boy who has the ability to make choices.”

  “You have no idea what I have put him through. None,” she says, stepping back. “I’ve driven him crazy with my brown sugar.”

  “How much has she had to drink?” Lisa asks.

  “I’m not drunk. I’m not.” Jamie wipes away her tears. “I had two, that’s it.”

  Christy rubs her back. “Well, then tell us what’s going on.”

  “I’m just...Not yet, okay?”

  “Okay, but you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t push him into that bimbo’s clutches.” I wipe away some tears.

  “I deserve it. I was a bimbo when I got drunk and let him, you know.” She frowns and looks down. “I deserve it.”

  Lisa grabs her. “I will cut you if you talk shit like that again.” Then she shakes her. “Do you hear me? I will straight up cut you.”

  Jamie’s eyes are big as saucers, and all she can do is nod. Hell, I’m nodding with her.

  “Lisa,” Christy whispers.

  “What!” Lisa snaps at her, making Christy jump.

  “Stow the ninja!” Christy yells.

  “Fine!” Lisa yells back.

  After a group hug, at least ten bangs on the door, followed by so many names called, and the inevitable awkwardness that follows a very, very long silent hug, I step back.

  “I think we should walk out, our heads held high, and have fun,” I suggest.

  “Fun?”

  “At his expense.” I nod, thinking of not only Mitch, but Logan. “We’re gonna flirt right in front of them. I mean, you’re going to.”

  “You do know the three of us see how you and Logan act around each other, right?” Lisa asks.

  “It’s not what you think,” I tell her, and it’s really not. “Anyway, tonight’s about Jamie. Let’s do this.”

  We walk right out of the bathroom, heads held high as people call us not very nice names, to which we ignore. I look left and see Mitch and Logan, so I direct us right. This leads us to French doors leading outside where a crowd of people play strip beer pong. The losers are two blondes who pick up their clothes and don’t put them on as they walk away.

  “And that, right there, ladies, is an STI on cheap heels with balloons for tits.” I laugh.

  Two guys in their boxers, clearly football players, yell out, “Who’s next?”

  “We are,” Jamie replies.

  “We?” I gasp.

  She looks us over. “You and I have the most clothes on and a point to prove, so we’re up.”

  “We were next,” I hear and look over my shoulder.

  “Blue bags beat us to it,” I tell Jamie and fake a pouty face while secretly thanking God Himself.

  “Then we call next,” Jamie yells when the blonde that was rubbing on Mitch joins her.

  “You got it.” One of the guys winks.

  “The fuck you do,” I hear from behind me and immediately tense up. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be going home.”

  I turn around quickly and force a fake smile. “Tomorrow, I’m heading there tomorrow.”

  He shakes his head, but says nothing.

  I nod. “Plans change. And Mitch invited us. I sent you a text.”

  “She has your number, Links?”

  He looks toward the voice of the bimbo and glares at her. Then he looks back at me and reaches for my hand, but I step back.

  “Talk, we need to do—”

  “Talk, we need not do.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  He immediately looks pissed. “You come to my place, my party, and refuse to talk to me?”

  “We don’t want to lose our place,” Jamie says. “We’re up next.”

  “Don’t do that,” Mitch whispers to her, but in a drunk whisper, meaning it’s loud enough for all to hear. “Jamie, come on.” He reaches for her, but she steps back. “I’ll do anything, Jamie. Just...come on now. I didn’t think you were coming, and—”

  “Save it.” She smiles cruelly. “Turn around and go find the hooker you planned to bang. I’m no hooker.”

  “Of all people, I am very well-aware of that,” he jokes.

  “London,” Logan says, and then immediately realizes he fucked up and tries to mask his mistake. “I’m going there.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t want to miss your flight, so you better scoot along,” I tell him.

  “You’re going to London, man?” Mitch asks.

  “After the holidays,” he says rather unconvincingly, but it seems to work on the only person who caught it.

  “You either talk to me or leave,” Logan demands.

  I look at Jamie. “You good?”

  Christy answers for her, “Yeah, she’s good.”

  Logan reaches for my hand, but I yank it away again.

  “Fine, be a brat.”

  I walk around him and keep walking until we are in the corner of the fenced-in yard. When I turn around, I look up and meet furious, blue, glassy eyes. I shake my head and roll mine.

  “The fuck did you come here for?” he barks at me.

  “As I said, Mitch invited us.”

  “Bullshit, Lond—”

  “Elle!”

  He rolls his eyes. “Bull. Shit. Elle.”

  “Well done, Logan. Maybe you should continue using one-word sentences when you’re so drunk you can’t stand up straight. That way, you won’t mess up as badly,” I scold.

  “Admit you’re pissed ’cause I got sucked off i
n the bathroom and won’t fuck you,” he slurs.

  “Where you stick that thing is not my concern.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been obsessed with my dick since day one.”

  I give it to him straight. “The only one obsessed with your dick is you and a bunch of truly broken bimbos who seem to get off on your name.”

  “Least they admit what they want and aren’t trying to fucking own me,” he fires back.

  I laugh sarcastically, shaking my head. “I don’t want to own anyone.”

  “You fucking lie. You want me so bad it’s almost pathetic.”

  I suck in a sharp breath and look for a way to escape. That word, the tone in which he said it, it reminds me of how my father used to speak to my mother when he thought I was asleep.

  “You’ve been trying to get me for years.”

  “I can promise you that I wouldn’t want the you I am looking at even as a friend, Logan Links. I can further promise you that I am only here for her.” I point back at Jamie. “And I can add another promise to you. I will never look at you the same, not ever again.”

  I try to walk around the tree-sized man with the forest-sized ego, but he moves, trapping me in the corner I stupidly put myself in.

  “Because of a blowjob? Because you want what she got? You want to be on your knees, sucking me off in a fucking bathroom?” He shakes his head. answering his own repulsive question. “Not you. You want someone to fall all over themselves for you. You want someone to live and breathe for you. You want it because that’s what you see every fucking day in your little castle on the hill. You want the illusion they call love. Well, let me tell you something, it’s bullshit!”

  When he yells, it makes me jump.

  “It’s bullshit, and you know it, and I’m not falling for it. Not with you, not with anyone. I don’t want kids so I can fuck them up. I don’t want a wife so I can blow smoke up her ass, trying to make her happy, when eventually, I won’t want her anyway. And she’ll figure it out and fuck around and ruin lives.” If I wasn’t so angry at the spectacle he’s making, I would hug him, because I know he’s talking about his life. “I want a fucking blowjob by some bitch who craves my dick, then I’m gonna get one. I wanna fuck until my body is too exhausted to move, I’m gonna fuck. But it won’t be you!”

  “Elle, we’re up,” Jamie says as she storms around him and grabs my hand.