The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

Stay up way past your bedtime on a school night and have long, soul-searching conversations with your new roommates. You have been since room assignments over social media; don’t stop now.

  For the love of good books, do not stop reading for enjoyment. It keeps you sane.

  When someone invites you to do something you don’t want to do, it’s okay to decline. Say, “I’m sorry I’m not going to be able to make it,” or “I have other plans,” with a thank you. Or just say, “No, thanks.” Learning that it’s okay to do that now will make it much easier to do later in life.

  You’ve already had the experience of not being invited to “cool parties” and social events, and still, you shine. Never stop doing that.

  Complicated relationships aren’t more meaningful than easy ones; they’re just more work. Jess Mariano, Chuck Bass, Eric Northman, and Sawyer Ford are TV characters, fiction. They may be cute and make your tootsies tingle, but odds are they won’t be keepers. Don’t let that stop you, though. Kiss the bad boys, but don’t give them your heart.

  The best people are the ones who make you laugh, not cry. This applies to friends and lovers.

  Have fun, jump in a pile of leaves, dance like no one is looking, eat pizza at midnight. Yes, college is a place to learn, but take breaks. Your brain needs them.

  Ask questions, ask for directions, ask for help. Ask a real person; they’re still smarter than your phone.

  I’ve watched you make good decisions on your own. Keep doing that, but make mistakes, too, but do it for yourself.

  There are free condoms in the health center.

  Be brave, but be you, too.

  Do it up! If not for you, for me.

  XOXO

  The Cool Aunt

  Max

  Holding Aunt Max’s letter tight to my chest, I smile. In less than eight hours, I am going to meet Elle, Lisa, and Christy, my roommates, in person, for the next year of my life. And the beautiful part of that is we’re all on the same page with living it up and doing it together.

  Playlist

  Black Betty by Ram Jam

  Bad At Love by Halsey

  Oops!.. I Did it Again by Britany Spears

  Glad You Came by The Wanted

  Find A Way by SafetySuit

  Respect by Aretha Franklin

  Body Like A Back Road by Sam Hunt

  Take What You Want by Post Malone

  Black by Dierks Bentley

  Umbrella by Rihanna

  Baby It’s Cold Outside by Colbie Caillat & Gavin DeGraw

  Jamie

  Standing in the packed elevator, one extremely heavy bag draped over each shoulder, I use the manners I was raised with and smile, stepping farther and farther back as excited new students, tearful mothers, and stoic fathers continue to load in.

  When we get to the eighth floor, I’m stuck right in the middle and trying my best to exit as people push and shove past me from all angles.

  I can’t do a thing but laugh as I finally squeeze my way out the door.

  The hallway is just as packed, and there’s a girl—classically beautiful, pale skin, brown hair, petite, and somewhat familiar—standing there and looking at me, but she’s yet to say anything.

  “Well, pardon me.”

  “Let me help you with that.” She begins to take one of my bags, completely throwing me off-kilter.

  “Elle?” I ask.

  She smiles and nods excitedly.

  I give her a hug then step back. “Hope I didn’t offend. Was warned my southern hospitality may not be so welcomed up here in New York, where y’all don’t have the sun year-round to keep your hearts warm.” I take another step and start to fall over one of the wayward straps. “Oh, dog-gone it!”

  She reaches out for me, and we both end up in a pile, laughing hysterically.

  I hear a squeal and look up to see our other roommates, Christy and Lisa, hurry toward us.

  Christy dives for us. “Cuddle puddle!”

  Lisa stands with her mouth covered, attempting not to laugh as she glances at her parents and tries to hide her amusement before Christy grabs her hand and pulls her down with us.

  A young man, a very good-looking young man, in a “smart” way, laughs as he looks down at us.

  “Elle, I’m going to make a note in your file of how easily you sweep people off their feet.”

  “When he fell from the ugly tree, he missed every dang twig on the darn thing.” I giggle a whisper in Elle’s ear. “Dang near perfect.”

  She laughs and pulls me up.

  We gather our belongings and head toward our quad, Elle leading the way with one of my bags draped over her shoulder.

  When we walk in, I’m overwhelmed by the fact that it’s bigger than expected, and there is already plenty of furniture and an apartment-sized refrigerator. Not only are the girls exactly who I imagined they would be, but the room, the quad, looks nicer than the pictures.

  The rooms are all the same, and we each pick one. Once we’ve deposited my belongings in mine, Elle tells me that she’s going to leave us alone for a bit to get settled.

  “I’ll go with, so Lisa’s parents can have their moment.”

  Sitting in the main common room, Elle, Christy, and I watch as families move their students in. It’s sweet and, for a brief moment, I wished mine had taken the time to come. But, as they told me, they knew I’d be fine, and they had so much to do to help ‘the multitudes’ of those who need them, you know…any of the congregation or lost souls living with us, and that’s how it’s always been. God’s work is never done.

  When Lisa’s parents leave, she joins us.

  I find out Elle has a sister and brother, Lisa is an only child, and Christy is from a family of four. I tell them that my family is blended, with eight of us living under the same roof. I don’t mention that five of those people change whenever their situation does, and thankfully, they don’t pry.

  After unpacking and chatting more, I realize where we all came from makes us unlikely friends. As individuals, though, we couldn’t be more alike.

  Less than a day in and we have already deemed ourselves sisters. We love music, dance, being someone else on stage, and the ability to bring that character to life while hiding our own. We have all seen Wicked and agree that it pretty much summed up high school. We also admitted that all of us dreamed to one day, be on Broadway.

  Before we know it, it’s late, and we’ve yet to eat.

  Sitting together in the café, I look up and see someone who makes my heart beat double time. On his head is a white SU ballcap, turned backward, his dark brown, wavy hair peeking out from under it; hazel eyes full of light; a navy blue, long-sleeved tee that hugged every muscle it covered … and there were plenty of those; his dark blue jeans, with designer rips, hanging low on his hips, and when he turned, I saw they also hugged his perfect ass, and tight on his thick thighs; and his huge feet were covered in a pair of dark brown cowboy boots. A complete contradiction, I thought. But, my God, he is beautiful. And the way he carries himself is full of a confidence that I have always been drawn to.

  If a man holds his head high, he’s not hiding from anything.

  Did I mention the cowboy boots?

  Giddy-up.

  But then I saw Logan Links, and I mentally removed the spotlight from Giddy-up to him.

  I had been following Syracuse football for a few years, so I knew Logan was the son of Lucas Links—an SU legend—the only man mentioned by my mother about the two years she had studied at Syracuse University before she “ran out of money” and went to “live with her aunt” in Greenville, Mississippi …

  Nineteen years ago.

  Do the math.

  “That has to be The Missing Links,” I whisper to my new roommates, who I just met hours ago in our shared quad, now all together in the dining hall.

  “The what?” Elle, the sweet, brown-haired, classically beautiful one, laughs out loud.

  “Football god, Logan Li—”

  I stop talking and immed
iately feel my cheeks pinken when I look up from confirming my suspicion on the web to see Logan has stopped behind her.

  Giddy-up smirks. “Hey, Links, the freshies have already heard of you.”

  “And?” Logan huffs.

  “Well, maybe we should get to know them.” He gives me an almost wink and looks back at The Missing Links as Links pulls the chair away from Giddy-up.

  “Dude, what the fuck? I was gonna sit by her.”

  “You fans?” Logan Links asks.

  Elle looks utterly annoyed, which is actually kind of cute. In one of our group chats, I had mentioned being excited that we were directly across the road from the Dome and that I couldn’t wait to watch all the games and admire the football pants. She had said she didn’t mind attending games, but, while at school, she had no interest in falling for a boy, especially a football player.

  “Can we help you?”

  Logan Links shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Dear God,” I whisper … Well, sort of.

  Links bites the corner of his lip to stop from smiling and rolls his eyes at Elle as he says, “Heard you were a fan.” He looks up at the ceiling and sighs, almost mimicking annoyance, before looking back down at her. “Just thought I’d stop and say hey.” He leans closer to her. “Hey.”

  I almost laugh when I realize he’s totally hitting on her.

  “Okay, you’ve said it. Now, don’t you need to go eat a side of beef or something?” Elle looks away from him.

  “Excuse me?” Logan Links—why am I using his last name—gasps.

  “To keep up that … size. You know, feed the muscles, starve the brain.”

  Lisa, Christy, and I all laugh.

  Giddy-up sits down on the other side of her. “Well, damn. This one’s got jokes. I like ’em feisty.”

  “Fine line between feisty and bitchy, Mitch,” Logan tells him as he tries to keep his annoyance at bay.

  I’m about to step in and defend my girl but, no need, she does just fine.

  “Well, I can play whichever role is necessary.” Elle crosses her arms in front of her.

  “And she’s into role-play.” Giddy-up wags his eyebrows at her.

  “I’m all for freshie friends, but I have no desire to play in the kiddie pool,” Logan replies.

  Giddy-up laughs. “I run an equal opportunity pool myself.”

  “Wow, you two are lame.” Elle pushes her chair back and stands.

  “Are you leaving?” Christy asks.

  “Going to use the bathroom. Suddenly, I feel nauseous.”

  I’m torn between doing what a girl should always do—follow her friend—and the realization that getting to know Logan Links may help me find the answer to a question I have never dared ask my mother, out of respect.

  Logan gets up, though, and says, “I need to make a call.” He exits the same way Elle left.

  I look at his boy. “What’s going on with that, Giddy-up?”

  “Giddy-up?”

  I point down toward his feet. “Since we don’t know your name, I gave you one. You’re welcome.”

  Lisa and Christy chuckle, and his face breaks out into a mega-watt smile. I briefly lose the ability to breathe.

  I’m pretty sure he’s aware of that because his smile turns into a smirk.

  “Mitch Moore,” he says.

  When Christy laughs out loud, he glances at her. “I know what you’re thinking, Little Red.”

  Little Red?

  She blushes as she smiles at him. “I bet you don’t.”

  “I’m not a bettin’ man. I prefer to use my head, Little Red. But, if that’s your thing, bet on me; the odds will always be in your favor.”

  Crush … crushed.

  Mitchell Moore, junior defensive lineman for the Syracuse Orangemen.

  Sadly, I love the players almost as much as I love the game, but my focus here at Syracuse is to become, not to be a has been.

  I look away from the lovefest as Logan Links—for the love of God, I need to stop that—stands behind Mitchell Moore.

  I see Elle, shrug. “It’s this way, in case you were wondering.” She points toward the bathrooms. We all watch her walk in that direction.

  “Let’s go get some food.” Logan nods toward the food service line.

  Mitch stands, lifts his chin, and smiles. “Ladies.”

  As soon as he walks away, Christy looks at me and mouths, “Sorry.”

  “Girl, there are a few dozen hot football players on this campus; he’s just one.”

  “I don’t even like football,” she admits.

  “Can’t fight chemistry.” I shrug. “And you can’t force a connection.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. We need to make a pact, here where SU placed us: let no man come between us.” I giggle.

  Christy laughs. “Amen.”

  What promises to become a great group of friends, all sharing a deep love for our art and musical theatre, cannot be messed with, or it will mess with what we are all to become.

  “Hoes before bros.” I wink.

  “Sorry.” Elle sighs as she sits down. “I just don’t like the jock mentality. I mean, really, they think role-playing is for the bedroom? All brawn, no brains.”

  This poor girl can’t catch a break. Mitch Moore and Logan Links are standing directly behind her.

  Logan Links sits beside her, and Mitch follows, sitting next to him, right next to me, as well.

  “You really have a thing against football players, huh?”

  “No, not really. I just don’t care to be talked to like … that,” she tells him.

  Mitch looks over his glass of milk, smirking. “So, no dirty talk while role-playing?”

  Logan chuckles, and Elle glares at him. Girl’s got balls and lousy timing. She’s going to need someone at her back.

  Logan holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say shit.”

  He’s right; he didn’t.

  She looks back at Mitch. “I was under the assumption healthy young men could get it up without the need for role-play.”

  We all bust up laughing, including Mitch.

  She continues, “You need dirty talk and role-play, maybe you should tighten that pool up to include women you’re actually attracted to and not just, you know, gaping, wet—”

  “Jesus Christ!” Mitch laughs.

  I glance over at Logan to see a shocked look on his face.

  “Links, can we keep her?” Mitch chuckles.

  “No fucking way,” Logan says, then sighs his annoyance.

  “Come on, man; she’s fun,” he pleads.

  “Not happening. She’s a freshman,” Logan says gruffly.

  “It’s fifth year for you, man. Why not change things up?” Mitch winks at Logan, and Logan looks down.

  “Fifth year?” I ask.

  Logan looks up at me and nods.

  I cover my mouth. “Oh. Oh, that’s right. I’m so sorry.”

  I remember reading an online article only a few months ago that his sister, Ava, was engaged to be married to the rock band, Burning Souls’, drummer, Thomas Hardy. Thomas was hit and killed by a car, and Logan left his last semester here at SU. He came back this semester to finish and play another season of football. His last.

  When he blows out a slow, held-in breath, he looks at Elle, who gives him a slight smile.

  I see a spark. God, I love witnessing those moments. And, as much as I want to someday feel that, I have no desire to force such a thing or bid for anyone’s attention because I am enough.

  He looks up at me. “Bad shit happens. My sister’s good. So are my niece and nephew. Thomas was a hell of a guy. Sucks that he’s gone, but life’s gotta go on.”

  “Sorry for your loss.” I reach over and squeeze his hand quickly.

  “Thanks.” He nods and glances back at Elle. He definitely likes her.

  Mitch interjects, “Well, we’ve darkened their night and ours enough. I say we owe them. We should take them to Armory Squa
re tonight and—”

  “Hell no.” Logan laughs uncomfortably.

  “Just to give them a tour?” Mitch whines.

  “I’m sure they’ve got plans to go back to the dorms and—”

  “Plans change, Logan,” Christy chimes in. “I think it would be nice to have a tour of the hot spots.”

  Logan pulls his hat down, shielding his eyes as he shakes his head and says, “None of you can get in anyway. You’re underage.”

  “So, we hit Marshall Street,” Mitch shrugs and looks at Christy.

  She blushes but doesn’t look away.

  Mitch, however, does. His eyes lock with Logan’s. It’s obvious they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation, both silently yet relentlessly pleading their cases.

  Logan finally lets out a long, loud sigh.

  Mitch smirks, knowing he’s won. “There’s room in Black Betty.”

  “Who the hell said I was driving?” Logan chuckles.

  Mitch places his hand over his heart. “Do me solid just this once, man. You owe me.”

  “You owe me some peace and fucking quiet while I eat your grandma’s cooking, then.”

  Mitch claps his hands together and stands. “Have I told you lately how much of a near chub I get whenever you’re around?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Mitch.” Logan chuckles.

  “I do, man.” He steps behind Logan and grips his shoulders, hugging him from behind. “I mean if I ever decide to switch teams—”

  “Get the fuck off me,” Logan says good-naturedly.

  “It’s cuddle season, Links.” His hug intensifies. “And I am as happy as a hard-on that you came back for me.”

  Logan laughs as he pushes Mitch off him. “Fine, but we hit one spot before getting them back to Lawrinson.”

  “How do you know we live at Lawrinson?” Lisa asks.

  He shrugs and stands. “Assumption. Let’s roll.”

  He and Mitch go to the food service line again, where they speak to the woman who we now know is Mitch’s grandmother.

  I take my phone off the table and flip it up, opening Yelp to check out Marshall Street’s bar reviews.

  I see Logan’s name pop up on Yelp and tap it out of curiosity.

  Good Lord! I laugh to myself.