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“What?! No, I can’t, I should ring Sasha back,” he stutters, pushing off the sofa and running his hands through his short hair.

“Let her sweat for once, bud.” I pat him on the back, smirking, and steer him towards the door, and that’s all it takes as he downs his beer and walks out the door. When Gunnar and I first met freshman year, we went out a lot, and it was neverhard to convince him to join me on random nights at the bar or parties, but recently he hasn’t been going out as much, and I feel like he’s missing out to please Sasha. Another reason I’m in no rush to get serious is that I don’t want to miss out on my last years of college to be tied down.

As soon as I step out the door, I can hear Shania Twain blasting from next door and some very off-key singing.

“How are we propositioning this?” I ask as we huddle in the doorway.

“Leave it to me,” Bear says with confidence and knocks loudly; shouts come from through the door, and the music continues as the door opens to Cami, who immediately narrows her eyes.

“PIZZA!” Bear shouts at her, smiling; she immediately slams the door in his face.

“Dumbass.” Adam groans, knocking again and moving Bear out of the way.

Cami opens it again, now with her still unnamed friend next to her, both with their hips cocked, looking intimidating as fuck.

“Look, we’ve got your pizza,” Adam states. “Now, I’m not saying I’m holding it hostage, but I know you’ve got tequila, and,” he says as the door inches closed, “Gunnar can do a mean Kelly Clarkson, ‘Since You’ve Been Gone’.”

“Dude.” Gunnar gapes at him while I cover my laugh with my fist behind him. It’s his go-to drunken song. I’ve heard him singing it in the shower after nights out at the bar.

“Let us join you, and I promise you won’t regret it,” he practically begs them.

“Sorry, boys, it’s girls night.” Cami sighs. “I don’t come over when one of you has been dumped, do I?” she asks.

“I mean you could,” I state, giving them a half smile and shrugging. “I feel like your advice would be a hell of a lot better than Adam’s.”

“That’s not cool.” He whips back at me. “I give expert advice: don’t call, don’t text, go out and pick up some…” He lifts his fingers, ticking them off. Luckily, Bear puts his hand over his mouth to stop him.

Cami is glaring at Adam while, surprisingly, the mystery girl is smiling. “What the hell, Gunnar, was it?” she asks. “Get in here and show me what you’ve got.” She moves out of the way.

“Seriously?!” Cami stares at her friend with her mouth open.

“Sure, I ruined their evening with my stupid drama, anyway; it’s the least we can do.” She grins, making grabby hands at the pizza. “Gimmie, I’m starving.”

Adam gives her the boxes and slings an arm around her shoulders. “I could go for some Alanis Morissette, you know, maybe some Sinead O’Connor,” I hear him say as Bear follows, leaving Gunnar, Cami, and Me looking after them.

“What am I witnessing?” Gunnar whispers.

“I think Adam and Bear just adopted her,” I whisper back.

“Oh boy,” Cami mutters, “this will never end well.”

I don’t know if she’s referring to the night or our new friendship.

Chapter Seven

Brooke

I wake up to what sounds like someone instructing an orchestra in the kitchen.

I groan, rolling over and panicking as I feel someone’s leg on top of mine, my eyes shooting open, and come face to face with Cami drooling. I release a sigh of relief, glad that I hadn’t accidentally taken things too far with my new friends.

We had stayed up late listening to breakup music and playing the most competitive game of bullshit I’ve ever seen. At one point, Bear had to pull Cami off the table after Gunnar called bullshit on her, almost winning round and him being entirely right, turning over a nine of spades and two of hearts.

I smile at the hazy memory before I realise that if Cami is here, then who’s in the kitchen?

I shoot up and then exclaim, “Fuck,” and grab my head as it pounds. Cami doesn’t even stir next to me, her mouth open and snoring; she’s not as graceful a sleeper as she is a figure skater.

After bumping my way down the hallway, I stumble out into the living area and head into the kitchen, finding Grant, who has headphones on and doesn’t hear me come in. He is shuffle dancing across the kitchen, humming along to a song that I could recognise in my sleep because it’s Shania Twain, ‘Man I Feel Like a Woman’, and if that song doesn’t make you want to kick a door down, I don’t know what does.