Adam nudges my arm with his elbow. “Come on. Let’s grab lunch, or come over and hang at the apartment, meet my roommates. You don’t need no man. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. What kind of pep talk are you feeling?”

I smile. “Of course you think there’s plenty of fish in the sea. You have a new girlfriend every semester.”

“Exactly. I speak from experience.”

I don’t think it’ll be that easy for me. My brother is a hockey player, tall and muscular, and I guess objectively he’s attractive. He certainly has no problem finding girlfriends if that’s any indication. He has perfect hair; I’ll give him that. I’ve had hair envy my whole life. Where my dirty blonde hair is stuck somewhere between straight and curly, his is lighter, thick, and the longish strands hang perfectly at the nape of his neck.

“How about lunch?” he asks.

It’s tempting, really. If anyone can make me feel better, it’s Adam, but I’m not sure I want to feel better yet.

Being single is a wonderful and liberating thing. “Single and ready to mingle.” “I’m every woman.” “Put your hands up.” “Truth hurts”. There are so many songs about it, I can’t even list them all. But the thing about the single girl anthem… it’s usually born out of a lot of tears from the last heartbreak.

The girl power and celebration of singledom only comes after you’ve cried your eyes out and burned every item that belonged to the last man who did you wrong.

I’m still somewhere between the two, but I catch Adam’s drift—it’s probably time to re-enter the land of the living.

I let out a cleansing sigh. “Tomorrow. Breakfast tomorrow, I promise. I need to help Ava get our room organized.” I glance over to the boxes stacked on top of my desk that I still haven’t unpacked.

Adam doesn’t look convinced.

“I said I promise.”

He holds his pinky out and I roll my eyes but link it with mine.

“I’ll swing by on my way to the dining hall. You’ve got an eight o’clock, yeah?”

I nod and groan. I am so not a morning person. “Yeah, but you don’t.”

“Preseason workouts this week and next at six. I’ll be heading over to eat around that time anyway.”

“Six o’clock in the morning?”

“Yeah. In the morning.” The deep chuckle that follows makes me smile. He stands and ruffles my already messy hair.

“Stop it.” I swat at his hand. He knows I hate it when he treats me like I’m twelve. In his mind, a three-year age gap makes him so much wiser.