Page 1 of Stroke of Fate

1 | BEAR

“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 ofglass-half-emptywith a sprinkle ofcheating boyfriendon 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 clothesalready 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 agoodopportunity.

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, andsingle. 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.

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