The arena lights burned bright, reflecting off the smooth surface of the ice as the crowd buzzed with excitement. It was the season's biggest game, the Glacier Kings versus the Ironclad Titans, and everyone knew the stakes were high. But for you, the tension had nothing to do with hockey standings.

You sat in the Glacier Kings' section, wearing Andrew West's jersey, your arms folded across your chest. The fabric felt warm against your skin, the scent of his cologne still faintly lingering on the material. Your eyes weren't on the puck or the players warming up on the ice—they were on Oliver. Your ex. The captain of the Ironclad Titans. The boy who had promised you the world, only to destroy it.

The memory of that night was still fresh, the bitter taste of betrayal clinging to your tongue like stale coffee. The image of Oliver with Regina Stone burned into your mind—Regina with her perfect hair, icy smirk, and reputation for getting exactly what she wanted, no matter who got hurt. She wasn't just another girl; she was a storm in stilettos, leaving wreckage in her wake. And she'd set her sights on Oliver.

But Oliver wasn't innocent. He'd let it happen, let Regina wrap him around her perfectly manicured finger while you stood on the sidelines, blindsided and heartbroken.

Not anymore.

When the betrayal first hit, you had felt small, insignificant, like a forgotten puck kicked into the corner of the rink. But not for long. You weren't the type to cry into your pillow and hope for an apology. No, you were a fighter. And if Oliver thought he could humiliate you without consequences, he was about to learn otherwise.

That's when Andrew West came into the picture.

Andrew, the captain of the Glacier Kings, was everything Oliver wasn't. Where Oliver was polished and charming, Andrew was rough around the edges, bold, and unapologetically himself. He had a smirk that could cut glass and a reputation for being as dangerous off the ice as he was on it. Most importantly, he was Oliver's greatest rival, someone who got under his skin like no one else could.

It didn't take much convincing for the great cocky Andrew to join your plan. The idea of making Oliver jealous—and maybe even a little miserable—seemed to genuinely amuse him. "This is going to be fun," he'd said with that signature smirk, his dark eyes glinting with mischief.

Over the past few weeks, you and Andrew had become the talk of the school. From sitting together at lunch to posting not-so-subtle photos on social media, you played the perfect couple. Every time Oliver saw you, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and something that almost looked like regret. But you didn't care.

Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

Because what you hadn't planned for was Andrew himself. Spending time with him wasn't just about revenge anymore. He had a way of making you laugh, of reminding you of your own worth when you'd started to doubt it. And when he wasn't cracking jokes or making sarcastic remarks, he'd let his guard down, showing you glimpses of the person behind the cocky facade.

Now, as the game began, you watched from the stands, your heart pounding. The puck dropped, and the rivalry on the ice mirrored the one off it. Andrew and Oliver clashed again and again, their mutual hatred palpable. Every goal, every block, felt like a personal battle.

But for you, the game wasn't just about hockey. It was about taking back control. About showing Oliver—and yourself—that you were stronger than he'd ever given you credit for.

As Andrew skated past the stands, catching your eye with a wink, you couldn't help but smile. This wasn't just about revenge anymore. This was your story, and you were finally calling the shots.