WINNING THE HOCKEY ALPHA

HARPER BENNETT

Would you do anything for someone you love?

I ask myself that question as I hold my grandmother’s wrinkled hand, feeling her fingers squeeze mine tightly, as if the pain itself is trying to rip her away from me right here and now.

She moans weakly in the bed, sweat dripping down her forehead, and the sound of the portable oxygen grows heavier with each passing minute.

I’m sitting by her bedside trying to smile even with my chest tight with fear.

“Grandma, can you hear me?” I whisper, and she squeezes my fingers before moaning again.

I choke back a sob, looking at her closed eyes.

She won’t be able to hold on much longer.

I try adjusting the pillow, try giving her more water, try... everything. But it’s not enough. She’s dying and there’s nothing I can do.

My phone vibrates. I already know who it is before I even look.

“Hello?”

“Harper. This is Dr. Nelson. I need to speak with you urgently.”

“She got worse?” I ask, my voice coming out in a suffocated whisper.

“Yes. The tumor is compressing vital arteries. If we don’t operate immediately, she may not survive much longer.”

“And… how much…?”

“The surgery, the tests, the hospitalization… everything together, we’re talking over eighty thousand dollars.”

My body freezes.

“I... I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Harper, there’s no other way. I’m sorry.”

He hangs up before I can truly beg.

Or maybe I’m the one who hung up. I don’t even know.

I cover my face with my hands and start crying, next to the woman who raised me, who taught me everything, who held me when even my parents didn’t want me.

I can’t lose her.

I open my eyes when I hear the voice of the TV host echoing from the other room, as if fate itself is trying to nudge me.

“Noah Lancaster, star of the university hockey team and heir to the Lancaster fortune, was spotted last night at an exclusive billionaire party. Sources say the heartthrob is single again…”

I turn slowly, wiping the tears with the back of my hand.

The image on the TV is clear: him, wearing expensive clothes, laughing with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Noah is blonde with blue eyes. A perfect playboy.

Very rich.

My heart races.

I’m beautiful. I have curves, I have presence. And, more importantly, I have a reason.

All I need is for him to see me.

To want me.

I need him to get involved with me enough that I can get the money to save my grandmother.

I squeeze her hand one last time and lean in to kiss her sweaty forehead.

“I’m going to fix this, Grandma. I swear.”

I spend the next hours building the plan. I search for Noah’s number on the team website.

I make a huge poster, with his name in red, glittery letters. I want to grab attention. I want to be unforgettable.

I put on my boldest dress — a red, body-hugging one, with a provocative neckline and a skirt short enough to turn heads.

A wine-colored lipstick and high heels complete the armor.

When I arrive at the gymnasium, the music is loud and the stands are packed.

Screams, horns, a uniformed crowd. I’ve never been in a place like this. But I pretend I belong.

I climb the first steps when a man bumps into me hard, spilling a whole cup of soda on my chest.

“Are you crazy?” I yell, stepping back, with my dress now clinging to my body in an even more scandalous way.

The man turns, impatient.

“Watch where you’re going, girl!”

When I lift my face, I see the coldest stare I’ve ever received in my life.

“Are you blind or just stupid?” he spits, his eyes like blades of ice.

I open my mouth to reply, but he’s already turning his back.

The crowd is still watching. Some laugh. Others whisper. And I just stand there, soaked, shaking with rage and shame.

Lexie appears the next moment.

Tall, tanned, platinum blonde. Dressed like the team’s ambassador.

“Oh, what a cute little scene.” She smirks. “Too bad the red dress turned into cheap wine.”

Her friends laugh in chorus.

“You probably bought that with coupons, right? Or... maybe traded it for your dying grandma’s painkillers?”

The urge to punch her in the face is overwhelming.

But I take a deep breath. Not here. Not now.

I turn and climb the rest of the bleachers, sitting as far as possible from that group of vipers. I grip my poster tightly and look at the ice.

Noah enters with the team, skating naturally, like a king parading.

He’s even more handsome in person. And I need him to see me.

At the right moment, I stand up, raise the sign, and shout:

“LET’S GO, LANCASTER, WIN THIS GAME!”

For a second, nothing happens.

And then… the entire stadium laughs.

I freeze.

I look around, confused.

Then the big screens zoom in on my face across the stadium. My eyes widen when I realize what they’re laughing at.

Oh no… no…

I look at Noah’s jersey, seeing the number 09.

I look at my sign.

#69 LANCASTER

Jesus Christ.

I can’t move. I came here to seduce Noah and now I’m a joke.

Someone on the loudspeaker laughs along with the crowd:

“Wow, we’ve got a VERY dedicated fan here, folks! Just be careful with that number, sweetie!”

The jumbotron shows me. A close-up on me.

Me. Soaked. Holding an erotic poster.

How could I be so stupid to write his jersey number wrong?

The crowd screams, roars with laughter.

And then, Noah looks.

Directly at me.

He raises an eyebrow and shouts toward me, smiles… and winks.

I’m embarrassed. I look ridiculous.

But I did it. He knows I exist now.

The final whistle echoes through the gym announcing the end of the game.

Noah’s team won.

The crowd goes wild, and I turn my head hearing everyone shouting at once.

I stand still, watching Noah remove his helmet, the sweaty blond hair falling over his eyes.

He raises his arms in celebration, and the arena lights bathe him like a private spotlight.

It’s as if the entire universe was born just to see him win.

And then, the crowd pours down from the stands.

Girls run. Literally run.

Several of them, made up and dressed up, descend the stairs with their phones in hand, desperate for a selfie with the star. They shout his name as if he were a pop icon.

“Noah! Noah, here!”

Most already holding up their phones, filming stories, trying to grab his arms or kiss his cheek. Noah smiles, trying to give attention to as many girls as possible.

I take a deep breath. I can’t let myself be intimidated.

On the other side, I see another movement.

Some girls also move toward someone off the ice, near the team bench. It takes a second for me to recognize the cold, familiar face.

Mason Lancaster. Now I can recognize the idiot. Noah’s older brother, notorious as the black sheep.

The same jerk who spilled soda on me without apologizing. He’s wearing a hoodie and I notice he didn’t play today for some reason.

The girls try to approach, touch his arm, talk.

But he rejects all of them. Angrily. He steps back, responds curtly. One even tries for a selfie and he turns his face, visibly irritated.

Definitely not the charismatic brother.

I turn my attention back to Noah.

I try to approach from the side of the crowd, holding my stained poster tightly. But it’s impossible.

I’m just about to give up when I hear the familiar venomous voice behind me.

“Harper!” Lexie says, in a tone far too sweet to be real.

I turn slowly, already knowing no good is coming.

“Noah asked me to tell you he wants to see you. In the locker room,” she says, wearing a victorious smile.

I frown.

“Why would I believe you?”

Lexie tilts her head, her golden eyes sparkling with sarcasm.

She’s the only daughter of a powerful alpha. Rich and very influential.

“Well… you got the hockey star’s attention with that ugly, vulgar dress. You must be doing something right, huh?”

My blood boils in my veins.

The urge to wipe that smile off her face with a slap is real. But deep down, hope speaks louder.

What if it's true? What if he really wants to see me?

I swallow my pride and walk in the direction she indicated, my heart pounding faster.

The men's locker room is emptier than I imagined.

But there are still a few guys half-dressed, towels around waists, pants being pulled up. I hurry past them, hearing whistles and low comments.

“Oh, did she come to bring luck to the entire team?”

They laugh. I don’t. I just want to find Noah.

When the jokes stop, I realize I'm alone.

The smell of deodorant, sweat and ice still fills the air. I hear the sound of a shower running.

My heart races.

This is it.

I walk to the back, stopping in front of the last slightly open door.

But before I can knock, I hear the metallic sound of the main door slamming shut behind me.

And then... click.

Locked.

I spin around immediately, pounding on the door.

“Hey! Is anyone there?”

I hear laughter on the other side.

Lexie’s voice muffled, but clear:

“I hope you brought your red lipstick. He likes girls who are... dedicated.”

“Lexie? Open this door!”

More laughs and then they walk away.

No. No.

I'm locked in the men's locker room.

Alone. Or almost.

I close my eyes thinking of infinite ways to get revenge on Lexie and her group when I hear footsteps behind me.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The deep, irritated voice paralyzes me.

I open my eyes and turn slowly. My world spins, and I grip the wall hard to steady myself when I see the person in front of me.

Mason Lancaster is here.

Stepping out of the shower. Water dripping. Completely naked.

My brain freezes.

“I…”

“Are you deaf or mute, girl?” he snarls, frowning. “I asked what the hell you’re doing in the men’s locker room?”

I try to turn my face, but it’s impossible to ignore his body. Sculpted muscles.

My eyes trace over his torso and I notice a large full‑moon tattoo on his chest.

Water glides across his skin like it was shot in slow motion.

He takes two quick steps and in the blink of an eye, he’s in front of me. He shoves me firmly against the door.

The cold wood presses into my back. His hot body is inches from mine.

“Answer. Now.”

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes.

He brings his face close to mine. I have the privilege—or the misfortune—of seeing his golden eyes up close.

I feel his breath against my face.

Mason places his hands on either side of my head, trapping me between the wall and him.

“Did the cat eat your tongue, little girl?”

“I have a name.” I whisper, and he smiles.

“I assumed so. What’s your name?”

I blink and bite my lip, and I see he notices.

“Harper…”

He nods as if trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth.

“Well, Harper. Start by telling me what you’re doing here. Didn’t you see the sign that said ‘men’s locker room,’ or are you blind too?”

I furrow my brow, feeling so much anger toward him that I restrain myself.

Neither of us moves, we just stay very close to each other.

“Could you stop trying to insult me? I know who you are, but that doesn’t give you the right to insult people.” I say angrily, realizing he enjoys it.

“You’re the one who walked into the bathroom while I was showering. The only one wrong here is you, Harper.”

“I got confused…”

He smiles again, shaking his head as if I’m spinning another lie.

“I don’t believe you. You clearly walked in knowing someone was in here—you’re a terrible liar, girl.”

I move closer to him, looking at him with more anger. We’re like cat and mouse and this time I’m the mouse.

“I didn’t come here for you. And I think the only blind person here is you for not seeing that the door is locked from the outside. We’ve been locked in here together.”

He curses and steps away from me, trying to force the door open.

I breathe again.

My eyes roam down his back and I turn my gaze away before I see another part of his body.

“Admiring the view? If you want to touch, just say the word, I don’t bite—well, only if you ask.”

I snort hearing his laughter.

“You always this stupid?”

The words slip out before I can control them.

His eyes seem to change color, and then he clenches his fists.

“You called me what?”

I move back as he steps closer to me.

I remember he’s an alpha and I may have just woken the beast, and I’m trapped here with him.

Mason comes so close to me again that this time I can smell the soap on his chest.

“Stay away from me...” I whisper, and he laughs.

“That’s not what girls usually tell me.”

I raise my hand to slap him, but Mason catches my wrist as fast as lightning.

With one swift motion he turns my body, making me face away from him. I feel his body behind me and the wall against my face.

“Does that make you nervous, Harper?”

HARPER BENNETT

Mason’s hand touches my face before sliding down to my neck.

"I'm still waiting for your answer, Harper."

Before I can say anything, we hear the door unlocking, and I sigh in relief before pushing his body away and rushing out.

My heart is pounding, and when I push through the gym doors, I close my eyes, feeling the rain hit me.

There's no one here anymore.

I have no umbrella. No money for the bus.

I walk, angry.

The dress clings to my body, the shoes splash in every puddle.

Water drips from my hair and runs down my collar.

The streetlights flicker, some are out. And for some reason, this part of town feels darker than usual.

It was humiliating. Being locked in there. Being made a joke.

But suddenly, something changes.

I feel it.

It’s almost instinctive.

Like my body knows before my mind. Someone is following me. I don’t hear the steps clearly, but I know.