OT

Freshman year was supposed to be your reset. In high school you were that girl—the one whose name was on every invite list before the party was even planned, the one who walked into a room and felt it tilt toward her. Guys, attention, the whole exhausting, glittering machine of it. You were good at it. Maybe too good. College was going to be different. Briar was going to be different. You’d decided that you were going to be a student first. Normal. Unbothered. Someone whose GPA meant more than her social radius. And then you met the hockey team.