The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  “Shut up,” I whisper at the floor.

  “I’m not gonna shut up. You’re right; I’m the worst kind of guy, but I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Mitchell Moore, shut up.” I look up at him. “Please. And please accept my apology for saying things out of anger. I don’t do anger.”

  He smirks as he sits down. “The hell you don’t. You were about to tear shit up out there.”

  “I don’t do anger, but apparently, I rage well. And for good reason.”

  He gives me one of those smiles, and my heart sinks with a realization that instinct punts me in the face with. He’s something special.

  “I wanna be your friend,” I start, and his smile falls. “I like you, but I can’t—”

  “Understand,” he cuts me off.

  “I don’t think you do.”

  “I may be a football player, but I’m not stupid.”

  “I know that.” I clutch my chest. “I know you look toward the sky before a play, which means you know there’s something bigger than you out there. I know you hold your head high unless you’re feeling guilty over something, which tells me you know you’re human and not divine.” I look down.

  “So, what are you feeling guilty about right now, Flower?”

  I shake my head.

  “Bullshit. Spill it. You are one of two people in the world who knows my secret.”

  I shrug and force my head up, looking him in the eyes. “I’m a virgin?”

  When he laughs, I feel my face flush with embarrassment, but I keep going.

  “My father’s a minister.”

  He laughs louder and holds his gut. “Flower, you’re gonna need to stop, or I’m gonna be in there on my knees, praying to the only God I trust—the porcelain god—to wash away my sins.”

  Mitch

  After I wipe away my tears from laughing so hard, I talk my stomach down from betraying me … again, clear my throat and look up at her. She looks as serious as a heart attack.

  She’s a drama student, you asshole, I remind myself.

  “Okay, you got me.”

  “And if you ever do to me what Logan did to Elle out there—exposing her in the cruelest way possible—I’ll also be a felon.”

  Unholy-fucking-shit, I think as I look into her eyes. I swear to … whoever’s out there that she’s got a halo of light around her head and have to rub my eyes. When I open them, though, it’s still there.

  I scoot back on my bed and open the nightstand drawer. Digging through the supply of condoms that I bought at the beginning of the semester, with fucking Bitcoins, I shuffle through them until my hand hits cool glass. I pull out the bottle of Jameson, sit up against my headboard, open it, and take a giant swig.

  “I’m gonna go—”

  I shake my head as I take another pull from the bottle.

  “You’re going to make yourself sick.” She walks toward me and reaches for the bottle.

  “I’m gonna need this.”

  She smiles sadly. “You just threw up.”

  “Yeah, well …” I take another drink.

  She reaches over and wraps her hand around the neck of the bottle before pulling it away from me. She sits her sexy as fuck ass—that I have to now rid the thought of eventually being balls deep in—on the edge of my bed and screws the cap back on and sets the bottle on the nightstand, before she turns with one knee on the bed, and faces me.

  “I sure hope we can still be friends.”

  “I’ve never shared a cross word with someone I’ve eaten out before.”

  When she cringes, I feel bad about the way that may have come across.

  “Just being honest, you know.” I lean over to grab the bottle, but she grabs my hand. The warmth and softness of her skin does some stupid shit to me, making me think of fucking a minister’s virgin daughter who thinks I pray.

  Plot twist, I think as I look at her, trying to figure out what in the actual fuck I’m going to do now … with a virgin.

  “And I’m gonna be honest, too.”

  “Starting right now, huh?” I chuckle.

  She looks hurt. Well, so am I.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Jamie. I mean … Come on! You certainly didn’t come off like a holy rolling virgin.”

  “I’m sorry,” she bites out and tries to stand.

  “Okay, okay. I’m a little buzzed and possibly in a bit of shock. But, to be fair, had you told me during any of the time I spent between your legs that you were a virgin, I would have told you that I don’t do love. Come to think of it, I fucking did.” I run my hands over my face and try to make sense of all this.

  “No worries, player. As I said, I’m not gonna cramp your style.” She stands up. “Just don’t drag me through the mud like your boy did my girl.”

  I jump up off the bed. “See? Right there, Jamie, that’s some bullshit voodoo your dishing out. All sweet on the inside and sassy as fuck when you wanna be.”

  She turns on me. “Don’t come at me like you’re better than me, Jersey Chaser.”

  “Hey, it not only pays the bills, but it puts people like you and me, with a common need, in each other’s paths. Just so happens I got the memo—Hook. Up. Hell, I wrote the memo.”

  “Boy, you did not find me on that site, so stop fooling yourself.”

  “But you found me on there. At the very least, you knew what I was about.” I throw my hands in the air. “I’m the playful player, Jamie, not”—I motion between us—“this.”

  She looks at me sadly.

  “Feel free to unsubscribe and don’t look at me like you’re judging me now. Remember, I’ve been face-down between your legs.”

  She laughs out loud. “I would not pay five ninety-nine a month to get laid.”

  “Well, at eighteen, I’d be thinking about it, so no judgment.”

  When she slaps me across the face, I don’t even flinch or get pissed.

  She covers her mouth. “I’m so—”

  Rubbing my cheek, I shrug. “I’m being a dick, and I’m not a dick, Jamie.”

  “Playful player, I know. Got that from a Google search; I did not pay,” she huffs.

  I eye her skeptically.

  She throws her hands in the air. “Really, you think I’d risk my daddy seeing a charge on his credit card for a hook-up site?”

  Probably not.

  “Look, I get it. This is not happening. We both know it’s a bad idea; was from the beginning. I thought we could be friends. Apparently not.”

  I take her hand and lead her to the bed. Then I turn around, pick her up, and set her on it before crawling across it and looking at her. She isn’t saying shit.

  I shake my head at her, and her eyes widen. When I sit back on my heels and look at her, she swallows down what I assume is a load-sized lump in her long, slender throat, caused by undeniable attraction and plausible expectations of what she presumes is going to “go down” after I put her on my bed.

  “You want honesty, Flower?”

  She nods slowly.

  “Admit that, right now, you’re wet from thinking about what I could do to your pussy. How I can make your legs shake as you come on my face. Now, be honest with yourself and tell me that, every time you see me, you’re not thinking about the first boy to make you come and how badly you want it to happen again.”

  Realization floods her face, and my stomach churns.

  “Men and women like you can’t be friends, not after that. Cordial? Yes. Friendly? Yes.”

  “Women like me?” Her lips quiver.

  Jesus, this sucks.

  I nod and move up to sit next to her. Hell, I even put my arm around her and give her a bro hug.

  “People who believe in love, who want something that a man like me, a man who knows that unicorns aren’t real, and a man that your God turned His back on long ago.”

  She shakes her head. “That’s not true.”

  “Which part?” I ask softly because the blow I’m giving her—her first blow—isn’t meant to shred
her. Hell, it wasn’t meant to be … at all.

  “All of it.”

  I brace for another slap upside the head when I tell her, “Not for you, no. But for me? It’s a fact.”

  What I get is a hug.

  This fucking sucks, I think, as I hug her back.

  No more words are exchanged, and when I start to drift off, I look down at her beautiful, black face to see that she’s asleep.

  An angel in the arms of the damned.

  Ninth Grade

  I blow the horn on the old Ford farm truck as I sit in front of JT’s foster home, his second since his mom died two years ago. The first … well, that didn’t work out.

  I look at my watch, knowing I’m cutting it close to being at school on time. We have a game tonight, and I can’t speed and give Sheriff Thompson a reason to pull me over, since I don’t have my license yet, and he already hates my family. Not my fault that Dad banged his wife. Also, I can’t be late, or I won’t play. JT will, though. He’s a local hero. Same reason he’ll always have a home within the school district of Massillon, Ohio, where they don’t fuck around when it comes to football.

  “Jesus, JT,” I say as I hit the horn again.

  The front door is flung open, and he runs out. When he stops and looks back, I am seconds from blowing the horn again.

  Then I see her … Lilyanne.

  When he opens the passenger side door and holds it open, she climbs in.

  “You break out again?” I ask her.

  “Fuck you, white trash.”

  “Jesus, Lilyanne,” JT huffs. “Could you lay off my boy?”

  “Should we expect the cops to swing by school today and drag your ass out?”

  She hauls off and slugs me.

  “Watch it, little sister; you might bruise your hand,” I joke.

  “Oh please,” she says, acting like it didn’t hurt, yet her eyes show otherwise. When she knows I can see it, she shrugs. “Guess lifting hay bales all summer will put some muscle on even the chunky boys.”

  I start to take that as a compliment until she laughs and says, “It’s gonna be winter soon enough, and then you’ll be all chunky and shit again.”

  I put the truck in drive. “Looks like you bulked up in juvie, too.”

  “Dude.” JT chuckles. “Lay off, little sis.”

  “Yeah.” Lilyanne smirks. “They think that church went up fast; can you imagine what I could do to a hay barn?”

  “How the fuck they let your crazy ass out so soon is beyond me.”

  “Good behavior,” JT answers.

  “And plenty of meds.” Lilyanne gives me crazy eyes.

  I don’t open my eyes when I hear Elle’s voice inside my room. Hell, I’ve been faking sleep since Jamie pulled me down so that my head was on her lap, waking me from a dream.

  I’ve been listening to her talk to me, trying to soothe me when I should be comforting her—yet another selfish prick move—feeling her gentle touch and her nails whispering across my scalp as she says things like, she’s gonna miss me, she’s sorry, she wants to be my friend, she doesn’t judge me, that she wishes things could be different, and finally her sniffling admittance that she wishes she hadn’t met me yet—all things I wish she hadn’t said but needed to hear to keep me the fuck away.

  Elle asks, “You ready to go?”

  “You sure that’s what you want to do?” Jamie whispers.

  “Yeah.”

  When she bends down and kisses me, I feel like that little boy whose mother snuck in and said goodbye to him, whether real or imagined, and it chokes me up.

  I quietly inhale her scent right before she slips out from under me and walks out my door.

  When I hear it shut behind me, I lean over, reach under my mattress, and pull out my book. I open it up and look at the picture of Lilyanne and myself at junior prom.

  Jamie

  After Elle loses her shit all over Mitch’s housemates—all deserving and truthful—we walk outside in silent support of each other.

  First heartbreak out of the way and fake smile—that will eventually feel real—in place, I walk outside of the first and last house party I will probably ever attend during my four years here at SU with my first real friends.

  We walk silently, two of us looking like the poster children for walk of shame ads, in two players’ clothes. The other two look at each other with wide eyes and seriously doing that best friend telepathic shit that I more than appreciate right now.

  “Fucking pants,” Elle breaks the silence as she hikes up the track pants that she has on that belong to Logan.

  Christy snorts, and we all look at her. Elle busts up laughing. Lisa begins laughing, too, and I fall in place. We laugh so hard tears are rolling down our faces.

  “Can you believe it’s not even November yet?” Christy snorts. “And this is our college life?”

  “I’m so sorry,” Elle whispers, clearly feeling the guilt that should be mine for bringing them there to begin with.

  “Are you kidding me?” Lisa hugs her. “I’ve been to a bar, seen a bar fight, sang karaoke at a bar with a group of friends who are all amazing. I’ve seen a reaction to a penis allergy—”

  We all laugh.

  “—ate barbecue while drinking beer from a pitcher, attended the best football game I’ve ever been to, and sat in the best seats in the house—”

  “It was the only football game you’ve been to,” Christy jokes.

  “—went to a college football player’s victory party and am walking in a city past midnight. I am breaking rules, ladies, and I am not a rule breaker. I fucking love college!”

  We all watch Elle for a reaction and finally see her smile.

  Lisa throws her arm around her and hugs her. “That was totally fake, Elle.”

  “I’m sorry, but …” She pauses. “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?”

  I can’t let her carry the guilt of shame alone, so I take a deep breath and say, “Or, is it the fact that you’re a virgin? Because so am I.” I can’t stop confessing all my sins, and I’m not even Catholic. “I said it was my fault he’s acting like that because we got 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 close up. He doesn’t know why. Well, he didn’t until tonight, and I only told him because”—I will not betray him and say because he told me a secret, so I lie—“he was asleep.”

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

  “Yes.” Another lie. “And, oh God, yes.”

  “God, I love that.” Christy grins. “Was he good at it?”

  I want to tell her he sucked because I feel a tad bit jealous and think maybe she’ll want to try it out, but I’ve lied enough today.

  “Incredible.”

  “What did it feel like? I mean, sex is sex, I guess, but I’ve never had that.”

  I look at Lisa. “I’m pretty sure it’s going to be my favorite thing.”

  “Oh my God!” She laughs.

  “Are you okay?” Elle whispers.

  “As long as you are.” I nod once.

  She grabs my hand and squeezes it as Lisa and Christy keep asking me questions until I tell them we’re not compatible, and Elle doesn’t let go until we get to the dorms.

  As soon as we walk into the building, all eyes are on us.

  “Heads high, ladies,” I laugh.

  Elle looks at me curiously.

  “Babe, look at us.”

  She looks down at herself and then at me.

  “We’re doing that thing, that walk, but I’m not about to feel shameful when”—I raise my voice so the bitches can hear me—“they see
us, and they all wanna be us.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispers.

  “Head up, Elle,” I whisper back, and we walk in like we own the place.

  Once at our dorm, I wait until they all walk inside, turn around and look at all the heads popping out into the hallway.

  “Hatin’ ain’t pretty, hoes. It’s ugly. No one wants to be an ugly ho.” I turn around, step inside, and kick the door shut.

  When the three of them laugh, I take a bow.

  Walking out of the bathroom after taking a shower, I find the room empty but hear Elle on the phone.

  “Yeah, of course. Whenever is fine. We have Monday off, so I can be there a couple days.” Pause. “Nothing’s wrong, Mom.” She laughs but stops immediately. “I’m really okay.” Pause. “I mean, if they’re in town, then sure. I can meet them and come home tonight. But if you’re just saying that because you think—” Pause. “I can be packed in twenty.” Another pause. “Just have them text me when they’re outside.” Pause. “Love you more. See you soon.”

  When she hangs up, I tap on the door.

  “Hey.” She smiles. “You okay?”

  I nod. “Washed that man right out of my hair.”

  She nods and smiles.

  “You going home tonight instead of tomorrow?”

  “We live close, and my brother and his wife are in town. Just makes sense, you know?”

  I nod.

  “If you need me to stay—”

  “No way. I’m good. Have some studying to do and some sleep to catch up on.”

  “Are you sure, Jamie? Because—”

  “I’m good.”

  “Well, I guess I have to pack some things.”

  “I can help. Walk you out, too.”

  “Pft, I’m good. Besides, people don’t mess with crazy, and, well, they’ve all clearly heard I match that description.”

  “You’re not crazy, and I’m gonna insist on walking you out.”

  Her brows knit together. “I’m sure you want to get some sleep.”

  “And I will … for the next two days.” I walk over and ask, “What can I do to help?”