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Holland

T he arena vibrates with energy, the kind of electric buzz that thrums under your skin and sets your heart racing. There’s a steady hum of excitement that ripples through the stands as fans decked out in Wildcats jerseys and face paint cheer. It’s impossible not to get caught up in it.

I’m wedged between Willow and Juliette, the three of us packed tightly into a row surrounded by a sea of Wildcats fans. Around us, the rest of the girls—Carina, Viola, Stella, Fallyn, Britt, and Ava—are scattered in small groups, their laughter and shouts rising above the growing roar of the crowd.

For the first time in forever, I feel like I actually fit in somewhere.

I belong.

It’s not that I’ve intentionally been a loner. Willow has always been my ride-or-die, the one constant in my life.

But outside of her?

Friends have never come easily. I’ve spent years building walls, bracing myself against the sting of disappointment and rejection. Sitting here with this group of girls who’ve embraced me without question feels different.

Nice in a way I wouldn’t have expected.

“Wait a minute,” Willow says, her tone one of playful disbelief as she leans toward me. Her elbow digs gently into my side. “Is that a smile on your face? It’s almost like you’re having a good time.”

I snort, the sound turning into a laugh as I nudge her back. “Don’t push it.”

Juliette, seated on my other side, turns toward me. “Oh, she’s definitely smiling. We need photographic evidence.” She whips out her phone and holds it up, angling it for a selfie. “Come on, Holland, give me your best game-day grin.”

“Absolutely not,” I protest, ducking my head as Juliette snaps a photo anyway. The screen lights up with her triumphant laugh.

“Got it,” she announces, showing Willow the blurry but unmistakable proof of my smile.

Carina spins around from the row in front of us, her glossy blonde ponytail swishing as she rests her arms on the back of her seat. Her eyes are bright with excitement as she grins at me. “Okay, can I just say how much I love that you and Bridger are a thing now? Like, we all saw the tension building, but still. I can’t help feeling there’s more to the story than you’re letting on.”

The group falls silent, and suddenly all eyes are on me. Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks as I shift in my seat.

I manage a wink, trying to play it cool. “Let’s just say there’s always more to the story.”

Juliette’s brows shoot up, and she leans in, practically vibrating with curiosity. “Well, now you have to spill. What happened between you two? We need details.”

Before I can come up with a way to deflect, Fallyn saves me. “Forget Bridger for a second,” she says, her voice laced with admiration. “Can we just talk about how badass you are for working at the Envy Room while taking a full course load? Like, seriously. I’d be flat on my face trying to do all that.”

Laughter ripples through the group, and I roll my eyes, though I can’t stop the grin that tugs at my lips. It’s strange, this feeling of being accepted without hesitation or judgment. I spent so long assuming I had to keep parts of myself hidden, that friendships like this weren’t meant for someone like me. But here they are, lifting me up instead of tearing me down.

“You want a lesson? Pole 101?”

Viola perks up, raising her hand like she’s in class. “Sign me up. I’ve always wanted to learn how to spin without falling on my ass.”

“You’d kill it,” I say with a laugh. “Just don’t come crying to me when you pull a hammy. Happens to me more than I’d like to admit.”

“Deal,” she says, her laughter joining the chorus around us. The group dissolves into playful chatter, and for a moment, the conversation shifts away from Bridger.

The lights in the arena dim slightly, and the hum of the crowd rises. The announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, calling out the players’ names as they skate onto the ice. My heart kicks into overdrive when Bridger’s name is announced. He glides out with an easy confidence, his movements fluid and precise.

And then, as if he knows I’m here, he glances up into the stands. He can’t possibly see me amidst the crowd, but for a fleeting second, it feels like his gaze locks on mine. A warmth envelops me, and a smile tugs at my lips.

The puck drops, and the game begins.

The arena comes alive, the roar of the crowd like a living, breathing thing that surges and swells with every play. I cheer louder than I ever have before, my voice mingling with the cheers and shouts around me. My eyes stay glued to Bridger as he commands the ice, blocking shots, making passes, and keeping the team in control. Every time the announcer calls his name, an undeniable sense of pride fills me.

He’s incredible.

Strong, determined, relentless.

And mine.

As the game unfolds, it’s no longer just about the Wildcats.

I’m not just cheering for the team.

I’m cheering for him.

The guy who’s always held a piece of my heart.