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“P.M.A.,” my best friend says cryptically.

There’s a beat of silence before the sound of shuffling and soft grunting filters down the line as Pia contorts her body into whatever Zen position she’s favoring this time.

The last time we talked, she was in Happy Baby; before that, she spent the entire phone call in a child’s pose.

While Pia, flexible from years as a gymnast, can twist herself into a pretzel, my long legs aren’t nearly as pliable. So here I am, comfortably propped up in bed, baffled by her use of an acronym.

“Oh-kay…and that stands for?” I ask, waiting until her breathing evens out and we can resume a normal conversation.

“Positive mental attitude,” she clarifies. “That’s the mantra for the new school year, I’m calling it.”

A sound of disbelief escapes me as I take in her words. It’s not that I don’t think it’s a great way to approach life—I’d be the first to admit I could use a little more P.M.A., as Pia puts it. It’s just, like most things, easier said than done.

And life handing me a hefty dose of glass-half-empty with a sprinkle of cheating boyfriend on top hasn’t exactly helped my attitude.

“I don’t know, Pia.” My heavy sigh fills the quiet space around me. “Getting through this without you might take more than a mantra.” I close my eyes and silently will away the boulder-sized lump that’s suddenly lodged in my throat.

The reality of what I’ve done hits harder now that I’m alone in my new apartment. My parents left a few hours ago to catch a flight back home to California, and with my clothes already unpacked, there aren’t any other distractions left to focus on—just my thoughts.

The feeling of regret oozes into my bones. It’s icky and gross.

Maybe I should have thought this through more.

Maybe I should have sucked it up and stuck it out.

Maybe I should have transferred someplace closer to home.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

I didn’t do any of that, though. Instead, I made a decision that left me too many states away from my best friend and family.

Starting my sophomore year at a new university wasn’t exactly on my bingo card. But despite everything, I refuse to cry or give in to the sadness. I just have to keep reminding myself that this is a good opportunity.

Huska has one of the top Kinesiology programs in the country. Once I complete my undergraduate degree, I’ll be one step closer to earning my Doctorate in Physical Therapy. Sure, it’s not the linear path I always envisioned, but I’m learning to be okay with that.

“Remember, it’s all about that P.M.A.” Pia’s bubbly voice pulls me back to the conversation, and I slowly blink my eyes open again.

Judging by her next words, she must take my prolonged silence for doubt.

“Fine, if you’re still unsure about my motto, here are a few positives.

Think of all the parties, hookups, and wild nights you can enjoy without parental supervision.

Total freedom, Care Bear.” She babbles, using the pet name she gave me on the first day of kindergarten.

Pia was wearing a Care Bear shirt and declared herself my best friend after I pointed at her shirt and told her my name was on it. It was that simple back then.

“No,” I groan. “That’s your ideal college experience, not mine.”

Whereas Pia thrives on attention and has a ‘try everything at least once’ attitude, I’m happy to sit on the sidelines and watch her do her thing.

We balance each other out that way—she pushes me out of my comfort zone, and I reel her in, stopping her from doing anything too crazy. But now that we’re miles apart…

Her squeal has me wincing and pulling the phone away from my ear to avoid adding a burst eardrum to the list of things wrong in my life.

“Um, excuse me? No, none of that,” Pia says. “You’re young, hot, and single . A triple threat.”

At the reminder that I am indeed single, my thoughts automatically drift to Hunter—and my mood sinks even lower.

“Thanks for the confidence boost, but I’m not interested in being a triple threat,” I mumble, tugging at a loose thread on my comforter.

“Bear,” she says sternly.

“ Pia, ” I shoot back.

“You know they aren’t all like him, right?” She insists.

Yes, I know that. But knowing something and believing it are two different things, and right now, my brain is struggling with the latter.

“It doesn’t matter. Boys are low on the priority list this year.”

She snorts. “They’re never low on the list. You just have to find one that isn’t self-absorbed or a cheating prick.”

Pia made her stance on the situation clear, and I love her for it—loyal to the end. But the reality is that I cared about Hunter. His infidelity didn’t just hurt it also left a stain on my heart, one that refuses to fade.

I never would have imagined we'd become the poster couple for cliché college breakups before freshman year ended. Sure, Hunter wasn’t always the most attentive boyfriend at times, but I never doubted his faithfulness.

That all changed the day I caught him hooking up with the girl he swore was “ just a friend," in his dorm room. And just like that, I became collateral damage to his shitty decisions.

If I'm being honest with myself, things started to shift between us once after we graduated high school. But clinging to the happy memories of our relationship was easier than facing reality. Still, I never would have thought he’d sink so low as to cheat on me.

God, if I could turn back time to that day, I’d throw something at him—my shoe, preferably.

I don’t know what cuts deeper, the betrayal or the fact that he didn’t even try to fight for us. Not that I would’ve taken him back. I just thought I meant more to him. Thought he cared as much as he made me believe he did.

What about us made him think I didn’t deserve an honest explanation after four years together?

All I got was a half-assed text saying he was sorry I found out that way, but it was best if we started seeing other people.

Yeah, jackass, I figured. The naked chick in his bed kind of sealed the deal on that one.

Trying to move on from what happened between us wasn’t easy, considering we attended the same university and ran in the same circles.

Having to avoid him on campus felt like running across a two-lane highway, trying to dodge traffic—exhausting.

I was just done pretending that was how I wanted to spend my college years.

“You still there?” Pia asks, a hint of concern lacing her voice.

Clearing my throat, I force thoughts of Hunter and the past few months away. “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Not about him, I hope?”

“No,” I reply quickly.

Technically, I was, but not in the way she means —not romantically.

What we had is over—for good. I’m ready to move on with my life.

And yeah, it still hurts. I’m human, after all.

But these past few months have made me realize something: my sadness has more to do with the time I lost pouring everything into a relationship, only to end up having nothing to show for it.

But I’m hopeful. And for now, that’s enough.

“Good, he so doesn’t deserve any more of your mental energy.” The conviction in her voice leaves no room for argument. “And I have a feeling Huska University is full of hot guys who are more deserving of your time.”

“How would you even know?” I ask, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice.

I don’t quite share Pia’s sentiment that the best way to get over one relationship is to jump into another—or under someone else, as she’s also suggested many times before.

Frankly, the thought of getting close to someone again is terrifying. I don’t want to risk being hurt and feeling used all over again.

“Home of the Silver Wolves has a sexy ring to it,” she explains, referring to the university’s nickname. “Like Silver Fox, but for college-age guys, ya know?”

At that, we both burst into childish giggles like we’re fourteen again, ogling over the cute boys in our teen magazines.

Once our giggles die down, a sharp pang of nostalgia hits me. Our lives were so much simpler back then. We were carefree, too eager to grow up and be like the cool seniors we saw walk the hallways. We had no idea what we were wishing away.

“I can’t believe I’m actually here and doing this,” I say, getting back to the conversation.

Despite my new surroundings, it still feels surreal that this is now home—or will be for the next three years.

Living by myself will take some getting used to, and I’m slowly adding personal touches to the place.

My new bedroom walls are stark white and bare, and I make a mental note to work on this room first. A pop of color would brighten it up and give it some character.

It’s nothing like the soft creams of my bedroom back home, but I don’t need it to be. It’s also about half the size, and the dresser barely holds all the clothes I brought, but I’m making it work.

Like the rest of the apartment, the furniture is minimal but in far better condition than I expected—thank God for small miracles.

I was skeptical when I read online that the apartments came furnished, especially since it’s not a new building.

But it’s clean and, more importantly, a blank page in my story.

And that’s exactly what I want—a fresh start—an opportunity to create new memories that aren’t intertwined with Hunter and our past.

“I know, but I’m glad we had one last summer together before you left me,” Pia says. Despite the tease in her tone, there’s a lingering sadness I’m all too familiar with.

I know she’s happy for me, but Colorado isn’t exactly a car ride away from California.

“You’re still coming up for my birthday weekend, right?” I ask, needing something good to focus on so I don’t lose it and start bawling over the phone.

Although my birthday is still three months away, I’m excited. It falls on Halloween weekend, and we’ve been planning this for a while.

“Absolutely,” Pia confirms. “I’ve already started working on my parents, so when I book my flight, they won’t have any reason to object.”

Muffled voices filter through the line before I can reply.

“Ugh, I gotta go,” Pia says, returning to the phone. “Tia needs my help with something.”

Pia has three younger sisters, and it’s not unusual for one of them to knock on her door mid-conversation.

“Okay, tell her I say hi.”

“Will do. She’s already asking when you’re coming back to visit.”

I smile at that, but it’s her next words that make my heart squeeze tight.

“Proud of you, Care Bear. Call me this week.”

With a promise to do just that, we end the call.

I feel better and lighter even after our conversation.

And damn proud of myself too.

This is one giant leap into the unknown—completely out of character. My stomach churns with excitement and anticipation for what tomorrow might bring. But my gut tells me that despite my fears, I am making the right choice, so I hold on to that.

It’s the fresh start I never wanted but desperately need.

Huh, maybe Pia is onto something about having a positive mental attitude.