The Last First Game

  The Last

  First Game

  Gina Azzi

  The Last First Game

  Copyright © 2015 by Gina Azzi

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Cover design and interior formatting

  by Deborah Bradseth of Tugboat Design

  The Senior Semester Series:

  Lila Avers, Mia Petrella, Maura Rodriguez, and Emma Stanton are inseparable. They have been that way since their freshman year at McShain University. More than just friends, they’re sisters.

  Now at the start of their senior year, the four girls are parting ways for the fall semester. Lila has accepted a medical internship through Astor University in California. Mia is spending the semester studying abroad in Rome, Italy. Maura is staying behind on campus for her last season as a member of the McShain University rowing team. And Emma is psyched to land her dream internship in Washington, D.C. During their semester apart, all four girls grow, learn, evolve—and ultimately, fall in love.

  Follow the series to live their senior semester—and all of their drama, laughter, and life lessons—with them!

  August

  Prologue

  Lila

  The refreshing night breeze offers brief moments of relief from the suffocating Manhattan heat. My thin tank top already sticks to my skin, and I pluck it away from my chest gently, hoping the movement will cool me down a bit. Really, the heat is nothing another glass of sangria can’t fix.

  I’m sitting at a café table at a restaurant with my best friends, Mia, Maura, and Emma. The rooftop terrace is large and spacious, dotted with potted plants and flower boxes. It overlooks Central Park and provides a beautiful view during the day. At night, the lights of Manhattan twinkle bright, reminding everyone who can see them that New York is truly a city that never sleeps. Ever.

  The four of us have been huddled around a large order of chips and salsa, a bottle of Pinot Noir, and a pitcher of Sangria for the last two hours. During this time, the dinner rush has commenced and I’m enjoying the people watching: blind dates, colleagues grabbing after-work drinks to bitch about their bosses, couples in all stages of relationship bliss or doom.

  I can’t believe this is the last night the four of us will all be together until next semester. We’ve been inseparable throughout college, and I’m unsure how to begin a semester without these girls by my side. I thought saying good-bye after college graduation would be difficult, but I didn’t anticipate having to say good-bye before senior year starts.

  The four of us are about to begin our senior year at McShain University, a small, private university outside Philadelphia. When we all met freshman year, a happy coincidence of rooming together in a quad, we weren’t sure how to act around each other or even how to start a conversation.

  It all changed during the second week of school when Maura came home, wildly drunk, after McShain University’s rowing team’s initiation night. She was curled over the toilet, vomiting and somehow threw up a maple leaf. The rest of us were so impressed/in awe that we burst out laughing and spent the rest of the night taking care of her—and more importantly, becoming friends.

  Mia shared her passion and desire to become a professional ballerina, clueing us in to her strict schedule and commitment to academics. And damn, that girl is committed. She’s laughing now, twirling her chocolate brown hair up into a bun and fastening it with a clip, but back when we were freshman she rarely smiled, lost in her own world of perfection, ballet, and discipline.

  Emma told us how her high school boyfriend broke up with her right before she arrived at campus and how she had spent the first week of college crying in the bathroom. He had called her Thunder Thighs and was already sleeping with a tall, waify blonde. Someone who, she accused, looked like me! Well, that was awkward. To smooth things over, I gallantly offered to ask him out and stand him up, which scored me points in Emma’s book and solidified our friendship.

  Maura wasn’t able to participate much in the conversation, but interrupted our stories and laughter with occasional groans and dry heaving. Poor girl had a wicked hangover the next morning, but she rallied, treating us to breakfast as a thank you for taking care of her and catching up on the scoop she missed. Maura is a student-athlete and her life revolves around rowing. It’s something she and her twin brother, Adrian, shared. An unexpected and unfortunate accident late last spring robbed Adrian from her, and she’s been spiraling since, unable to come to terms with her twin’s death.

  I told everyone that I was pre-med, but studying wasn’t my number one priority. It never has been. I’m just good at the science courses, and my dad really wants me to be a doctor, so it seemed like the most natural choice. Which is why, in a few days time, I’ll be flying out to California to complete a semester at Astor University and start an internship program at their Henry Harper Medical Center. Blah, blah. I’d rather just enjoy great conversations with good people. And drink fantastic wine.

  Over the next three years, the four of us knitted our lives together until we became inseparable. We’ve shared our deepest secrets, wildest nights out, and many drinks, punctuated by riveting conversations ranging from the existence of God to security guard Dennis’s sexual preferences. You know what I’m talking about: all those bits about discovering yourself as part of the American collegiate experience. And what an awesome experience it’s been. We discussed in detail and meticulously planned for our study abroads, internships, and travel adventures. Suddenly, senior year wasn’t a far-off thought but an actual reality, and it was time for all of us to set our plans in motion.

  I shake my head slightly, smiling as a woman wearing bright pink lipstick spots her date for the night and ducks her head awkwardly to avoid making eye contact with him. That sucks!

  How will I survive the next four months away from these girls? How will we have a semester of new experiences, new adventures, with new people? And without each other?

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow!” Emma whines, interrupting my thoughts as she reaches over to pour more wine into Mia’s glass.

  “I know. This summer went by so fast,” Mia agrees, smiling shyly at the generous pour and taking a sip of wine.

  “I wish I was going off on some cool adventure like you guys instead of heading back to campus,” Maura grumbles, snagging a chip and dunking it in salsa. She pops the chip in her mouth, her long curls tumbling over her shoulders.

  “You’ll be fine.” I lean forward to pinch her cheek affectionately. “Now let’s just enjoy our last night. Before it all changes.” Because everything changes eventually, right?

  “You’ll eat gelato every day, right? And send us a report on your personal ranking of flavors?” Maura asks Mia.

  Mia laughs and looks down at her thighs, slightly fleshier now that she hasn’t danced in months—meaning they look like a normal person’s legs instead of twigs.

  Emma throws a chip at her, giggling as it bounces off of her forehead. “Give me a break. You’re still a blade of grass. Eat the gelato. And the pasta. Drink the wine. And the espresso. Let us live vicariously through you.”

  Mia laughs. “I still can’t believe I’m really going to study in Rome.”

  “And date an Italian,” I throw in for good measure, raising my eyebrows at her. Mia blushes furiously as Emma, Maura, and I laugh at her reaction.

  “One margherita pizza and one quattro stagioni,” the waiter
announces, placing two pizzas down in the center of our table. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No thanks,” Emma answers, handing us extra napkins from the center of the table. “Enjoy your last New York pizza, Mia. When you come back, this…” she circles her hand over the tops of the pizzas “…will be sacrilegious.”

  “True,” I agree.

  Mia giggles. “I can’t believe my flight is tomorrow. I’m so nervous. Thank you guys so much for sleeping over tonight. It will make everything so much easier in the morning when I leave.”

  “That’s what we do. Make awkward family situations bearable,” Maura says sarcastically, biting into her slice. The cheese is hot and gooey and breaks away from the pizza, sticking to her chin.

  I roll my eyes at Maura’s sarcasm. The girl has been through hell and back the last few months, and I am not unsympathetic to her situation, but really, she needs to snap out of the funk and gloom and get back to her life.

  I clap my hands together, effectively securing the attention of my friends. “Alright, ladies, enough of this ’ish. We are about to start senior year. It’s going to be fun and wild and epic. It’s one semester. That’s it. We have to live it up and enjoy it.”

  Emma nods enthusiastically, her bangs falling into her eyes. “Li is right. This is it. We all need to enjoy this semester and have fun.”

  I take a large gulp of sangria. “We need to date hotties.”

  Emma chimes in, “And get stupidly drunk with people we don’t know.”

  “Make new friends?” Mia asks nervously.

  “And fill each other in with weekly updates,” Maura adds. “I want photos,” she tells Mia seriously.

  I smile at Maura encouragingly. That’s the spirit, girl!

  Mia nods, her brown eyes shining as dusk falls. “So, we’ll keep in touch.”

  “All the time,” I tell them, swatting a gnat away from our pizza. “We update each other on all of our adventures, but we promise each other this: we enjoy the semester, stay present in the moment, and have a lot of freaking fun. Mia, you’re heading to Italy for crying out loud. Travel, eat everything, make out with tall, dark, and handsomes. Emma, you’ve landed your dream internship in Washington, D.C. We want gossip and scandal and midnight liaisons in the Capitol building.”

  Emma laughs boisterously, helping herself to a second slice. “You got it.”

  “Maura,” I continue, eyeing her firmly. “The past few months have sucked for you.”

  The girls stop talking and stare at me, mouths open.

  “What?” I ask. “I’m not going to pretend the past few months haven’t been extremely difficult.” I reach out, taking Maura’s hand in my own and squeezing lightly. “But this is a fresh start. Don’t waste it. Focus on yourself, focus on healing, and whatever helps you get there, then do it. Maybe it’s rowing.”

  Maura’s eyes narrow.

  “Maybe it’s not anymore.” I smile at her sincerely. “If it’s not, that’s okay. Whatever it is, you need this semester for yourself. And we all want to see you happy.”

  Emma and Mia nod in agreement.

  “What about you?” Mia asks.

  “Me? Well I’m about to go to Cali…” I flutter my eyelashes dramatically “…Screw the internship program. I’m going to find me a surfer with blond hair and blue eyes, lie on the beach all day so you bitches will be wicked jelly of my tan, and learn to incorporate hella into my everyday vocab.” I stand up, twirling around near the edge of the table. My short white skirt billows out à la Marilyn Monroe, offering a peek at my thighs.

  Emma laughs, smacking my ass. “Please stop with the stereotypes or you won’t make any new friends. Your program isn’t even near the beach.”

  “A girl can dream. And that’s what this semester should be about for all of us.”

  “Making our dreams come true?” Maura asks skeptically, and even I have to admit I sound cheesy as hell.

  We all look at each other and burst out laughing.

  “No.” I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “About doing things we never thought we would do. Pushing past our comfort zones. Living on the edge a bit. Deal?” I hold up my glass.

  “Fine,” Maura agrees, but a shadow of a smile ghosts her lips.

  “I’m so in.” Emma raises her wine glass.

  “Me too.” Mia chimes in, tapping her glass against Emma’s.

  “To adventure, hot boys, and an epic senior semester,” Emma says, standing up next to me.

  We all raise our glasses. “Cheers!”

  “Now give me another slice of pizza,” Emma says, returning to her seat. “And sit down.”

  I roll my eyes at her, plopping back into my chair and placing another slice on her plate. I smile at my three friends and really can’t believe that tomorrow marks the first day of our separation. I can’t picture what the next several months will look like without our weekly yoga classes, drunk nights out, and Saturday morning gossip sessions over donuts and coffee.

  How will I survive without them?

  September

  Chapter One

  Cade

  The airport is packed with the bustle of businessmen in crisp suits and compact luggage, weaving in between the slow gait of college students and their mother’s tear-stained faces. It’s the end of summer and back to school season is upon us. I shake my head with a laugh. I’ve been back at school since July. Our first game is in eight days against Arizona University. We’ve got to give ’em hell.

  I sit down near my gate, checking my boarding pass to make sure I’m in the right place. Gate A24. Yep. I stretch my right leg out, flexing my knee. The soreness eases a bit as I rub the tender joint.

  The weekend went by quickly, a lot faster than I anticipated. It was solid of Coach to even let me fly home for the weekend with the season opener so close. I close my eyes. I wish more than anything that I didn’t have to come home for yesterday’s memorial service. That this weekend didn’t mark the one-year anniversary of his death. I dreaded each moment of being in the suffocating walls of my childhood home in New Jersey, struggling to breathe against the influx of memories that all center on him: tossing the pigskin in the backyard, washing down leftover cold pizza with flat beer on Sunday mornings, squeezing Mamma in between us in big sandwich hugs, helping Dad wash his car in the driveway during summer. Jared’s death in Iraq last year—IED roadside explosion—was the worst day of my life.

  His one-year memorial service was second.

  I open my eyes and scan the airport. An old man bounces a baby, presumably his grandson, on his knee; two young girls huddle together on the floor, using the sticky blue seats as beds for their dolls; a young hipster pounds on the keys of his laptop, his eyes narrowed in thought.

  And then, I see her.

  A tall, thin blonde, struggling with two oversized shoulder bags. A Starbucks cup dangles from her fingers as she huffs loudly, the air blowing blond waves out of her eyes. She looks up and her gaze meets mine.

  Her eyes are cornflower blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer’s day. At the moment they glisten, as if she’s struggling to hold back tears. Then she blinks and shrugs at me as she dumps her shoulder bags onto a chair several seats away and perches at the edge of the seat, taking a long sip of her coffee.

  “Excuse me?” An airline representative approaches the girl.

  She looks up in alarm, clutching her boarding pass and looking around to confirm that she is in the right place.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you. It seems that this flight is overbooked. For customers willing to wait until the next flight to Los Angeles, which departs in three hours, we are offering a free round-trip ticket to be used within one year of today’s date. Would you be willing to give up your seat on this flight and take the next flight?”

  The girl looks startled, her eyes wide. She tilts her neck to the left, clearly assessing the offer, thinking over her options. After several moments a smile spreads across her full
lips. “Sure. I think I can do that. Now this free flight, is it anywhere in the network or only JFK-LAX?”

  I chuckle. Smart girl.

  “JFK-LAX.”

  She shrugs. “Okay. That’s fine.”

  The woman points to the desk near the gate. “My colleague will assist you at the desk. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation. And thank you for flying with us today.”

  The blond girl stands up and stretches her arms overhead. Her open cardigan is baggy and hangs to her knees, but the T-shirt she’s wearing underneath rides up, showing a sliver of smooth, tanned skin. She yawns and looks at her bags in disgust before heaving them onto her shoulder and walking to the desk.

  Suddenly, kicking it on the East Coast for a few more hours doesn’t seem so terrible.

  Not at all.

  “Excuse me. Miss?” I call out to the representative.

  She turns toward me and I break out my killer smile, the one I use to charm my way out of Biology quizzes and mandatory study halls. “Do you need any other customers to give up their seats?”

  Chapter Two

  Lila

  “A Heineken, please.” I tell the bartender, climbing onto a bar stool and kicking my stupid bags as far under the bar as they’ll go. I definitely over packed. Shocker.

  The airport is crazytown today, with all of the East Coast kids heading out to college this week, enjoying every moment of summer before the start of fall semester. My orientation for Astor University’s internship at the Henry Harper Medical Center is in two days, and I can’t tell if I’m excited about it or not. Of course, my dad was over-the-moon delighted, clapping me on the back and reminding me how great this will look on my medical school applications. Even my mom turned a pinched smile in my direction over the news. I shrug to myself. Hopefully, I’ll meet some cool people.