CHAPTER ONE
CAROLINE
If my love story had a soundtrack right now, it would hundred percent beYou Belong With Meby Taylor Swift. Don't roll your eyes—I'm a proudSwiftie. Judge me all you want, but Tay Tay justgetsme, okay?
Like, if she ever needs inspiration for another heartbreak anthem, she could honestly just steal my diary and boom—platinum album.
Anyway. I'm that girl. The one who's had a lifelong crush on the boy next door.
And not just any boy next door.
Oh no.
It's my best friend, Zach Westbrook.
ZachfreakingWestbrook.
High school royalty. The guy who keeps getting voted prom king and wins every single time without even trying.
He's also a hockey superstar. Basically the reason half the female population drags themselves to our school's freezing rink every Friday night. He's fast, he's talented, he's cocky in a way that shouldn't be attractive but totally is.
And me?
I'm the girl in the bleachers. The nerdy, fat, ugly girl with braces and a face full of freckles. Basically, the kind of girl who screamsyearbook committeeinstead ofprom queen.
The one silently screaming for him to justlook at meand realize I'm the one he's been looking for. Not that he's looking, of course. And if he ever did, it'd be pretty hard to spot me through the vulture squad—aka the horde of girls who basically worship at his hockey skates every time he scores a goal.
But here's the thing: he and I share a connection. Arealone.
The kind of connection that runs deeper than the deep blue sea. Titanic-level deep.(Minus the iceberg, hopefully.)And you know what? My inner diva is flipping her hair right now because those girls? They don't have that.
I'msureZach knows it too. He has to.
He just... hasn't realized it yet.
But any day now, he's going to wake up and finally see the truth—that we belong together. And then, obviously, we'll start dating, make it official, and head into freshman year of college next year asthatcouple.
You know, the ones everyone secretly hates because we're so cute it makes them gag? Yeah. That'll be us.
Perfect. Fun. Movie-worthy.
...Except. Tiny little detail I forgot to mention.
I might also be a teensy bit delusional.
Teensy bit? Be for real,my annoying little sass-monster of a brain cuts in, rolling her eyes.
I roll mine right back. Fine. I'm definitely, a hundred percent delusional when it comes to Zach.
And tonight is the perfect example of why.
It's game night—opening game, rivalry game, basically the Hunger Games of high school hockey. And me? I'm in the bleachers, lungs about to collapse because no one cheers louder than me. Not even the cheer squad, who are down by the glass in their tiny blue-and-white uniforms, smiling like toothpaste models and flipping their hair every time Zach skates past.
They're all perfect—bronzed legs, lip gloss, not a smudge in sight. Meanwhile, I'm wrapped up like a burrito—two sweaters jammed under my number 19 jersey—sweating and shivering at the same time, looking one sneeze away from hypothermia.
But whatever. None of them can out-cheer me.
My voice? Powerful. My passion? Unmatched.
