FIRST NIGHT WITH THE HOCKEY ALPHA

Lyra

SLAP!

The sound cracked through the room like a whip, echoing against the walls.

Jay’s head snapped to the side, a bright flush spreading across his cheek. His eyes widened in disbelief, staring at me like I’d just grown horns.

He blinked. “Why did you slap me?” His voice was shaky, more confused than angry, but the moment his gaze dropped to his phone in my trembling hand, realization hit him like a train. He lunged forward and snatched it away, panic flashing across his face.

Tears welled in my eyes as my chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe.

How did I end up like this?

If someone had told me before that Jay was cheating on me, I would’ve laughed in their face. Plenty of people had whispered in the dorms, warnings from classmates, even that one message from an anonymous number, but I refused to believe them.

Because I loved him.

And I thought—no, I believed he loved me back.

God, how stupid was I?

Just a few hours ago, I stood in front of my stepfather, his cold eyes burning holes into me as he ordered me to marry some rich old man for money. Money he’d gamble away like he did with everything else in his miserable life.

Just like he did to my sister.

My stomach clenched remembering his words, each syllable like a knife.

“You will not disobey me in my house. If you won’t marry him, then get out.”

That house never felt like mine. Not after Mom died and left me and my sister behind with that monster. She probably thought he’d take care of us. Instead, he sold my sister off like a prize cow, and I haven't heard from her since.

So I walked out.

I left everything behind and took a taxi straight to Jay’s apartment. I told myself it was temporary. I just needed to stay the night, recharge, figure out what next. All my friends had gone home for the weekend, tucked in safe with their families.

Me? I had no one.

Jay was all I had left.

And deep down, I thought maybe… if I gave him what he wanted, sex, maybe I’d feel something real before I go.

Because the truth? I don’t have much time left.

I’ve been dying quietly for years now, a slow burn no one saw but me. The symptoms come and go like the wind, and with no money for proper treatment, my time is running out. Fast.

I’ve been surviving on scraps, working odd jobs, sometimes even stealing, just to stay alive. But after I met Jay, I swore I’d stop. He made me feel human and safe.

Tonight, I wanted to give him what was left of me. My first time.

So when he stepped into the shower, I quickly slipped into the lacy red lingerie I bought weeks ago. I stared at myself in the mirror, heart pounding in my chest. Was I pretty enough? Did I look good?

I told myself he deserved this. He’d been loyal. Kind. Always there for me.

But then… his phone buzzed.

"Jay, your phone,” I called casually, reaching for it without a second thought.

What I saw made my blood freeze.

A message from Arden lit up the screen:

“Make sure to do a video while doing it with her. Send the proof, and you’ll get the $30,000.”

My lips parted in shock.

What?

My hand trembled as another message came in, this time from Rixa, The most popular, prettiest girl in Houston College. The same girl who had just broken up with Nick, the hottest guy in school, the legendary hockey star, the flirt everyone warned girls about. Rumors said Nick dumped her. She claimed she dumped him

“Don’t forget. You said you’d give me the money today from some bet. I’m waiting. Love you.”

I couldn’t feel my legs.

Bet?

Me? I was a bet?

The lingerie suddenly felt suffocating on my skin, like it was mocking me. My vision blurred with tears as I stood frozen, my hands shaking so hard I almost dropped the phone.

And then Jay came out of the bathroom, humming some stupid song like nothing was wrong, a towel wrapped low around his waist.

Rage exploded inside me.

I stormed toward him and slapped him across the face with everything I had.

The sting of it reverberated through my own hand, but I didn’t care.

“It’s not what you think!” he blurted, backing up a step.

“Then explain it to me!” I shouted, holding up his phone.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“You, how could you?” My voice cracked. “I thought you loved me!”

“I do!”

“Shut up! You don’t!” I screamed, tears streaming down my cheeks. My throat burned with pain as I ran to my suitcase and started throwing my things in. I couldn’t even look at him. Every second felt like I was choking on betrayal.

My hands moved quickly, erratic, shoving clothes into my bag with no care. I grabbed my jacket and zipped the suitcase with force, the sound echoing with finality.

“I’m done,” I said sharply, grabbing the handle.

But Jay stepped in front of the door.

“Please don’t go,” he begged, reaching out for me. “Let me explain, please, Lyra. Just, just listen—”

I pushed him hard.

But he was stronger.

Too strong.

Before I could blink, he lifted me and threw me onto the bed. My back hit the mattress with a thud and I froze in terror, eyes wide, heart hammering in my chest.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I screamed.

His face was wild, desperate. “Stay put!”

I didn’t wait to see what came next.

With everything in me, I lifted my knee and slammed it straight between his legs.

He crumpled to the floor with a strangled cry, clutching himself.

I didn’t stop to look back.

I grabbed my suitcase and ran, my heart pounding so loud I thought it would burst out of my chest. I stumbled down the stairs, out into the night, sobbing like a child.

This was the man I gave everything to for the past year.

The one I trusted with my body, my secrets, my heart.

He used me.

And when I tried to leave, he tried to force himself on me.

I collapsed onto the sidewalk outside his apartment, clutching my suitcase as the cold air hit my skin. My body trembled from the inside out.

I had nowhere to go.

The dorms were closed. My roommate had probably gone home for the long weekend, wrapped in the warmth of a family dinner.

I glanced at my phone, hesitating.

Should I call her? Ask if I could crash at her place for the night?

But what would I say?

“Hey, I just found out my boyfriend used me for a $30,000 bet and tried to force himself on me. Mind if I sleep over?”

My thumb hovered over the screen, but before I could hit dial, something caught my eye.

A pulsing neon sign down the road.

"GET DRUNK AND FORGET YOUR SORROWS."

It blinked lazily in red and blue, buzzing faintly through the misty night air.

It felt like a dare. A promise. Or maybe a warning.

Either way, it spoke to me.

Without thinking, my feet moved on their own. I walked toward the sign like it was a lighthouse pulling a drowning girl out of the dark.

The bar smelled of stale beer and cheap perfume. Music throbbed low in the background, too mellow to dance to but loud enough to drown out thoughts. Just what I needed.

I slid onto a stool and found myself facing a row of liquor bottles lined like soldiers on a shelf.

“Another one,” I slurred, tossing back the shot in front of me. I didn’t even know how many I’d had. Didn’t care. The alcohol burned all the way down, but it numbed the ache in my chest. Numb was good.

Numb meant I couldn’t feel the tightness in my ribs, the cracks splintering my heart, or the reality that I had no home, no family, and barely a reason to keep breathing.

Screw the cancer.

Screw Jay.

I had a few weeks left to live, and I wasn’t going to spend them crying over some asshole who never loved me.

The glass in my hand trembled. I clutched it tighter, knuckles whitening.

My stomach twisted. I bit down on my lower lip, hard, so hard that the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. It was the only thing that reminded me I was still alive.

“Give me the hottest one,” I slurred, voice thick with alcohol and unshed tears. I slammed the empty shot glass onto the bar with more force than I intended. A few heads turned.

The bartender, mid-thirties, beard too neat for this kind of place, paused. His eyes scanned my face like he was trying to figure out if I was just drunk or dangerously broken.

Spoiler alert: I was both.

I said another one,” I said, louder than I meant to. My voice cracked. I didn’t mean to sound so angry… or so desperate.

He started pouring the drink, slow and steady.

I reached for the glass, but my fingers missed. The stool wobbled beneath me, and before I knew it, the floor slipped out from under me. The lights, the noise, the weight in my chest, it all blurred together.

I waited to hit the ground.

But it never happened

Strong arms caught me just in time. Steady, warm, and grounding in a way I didn’t expect. My body landed against his chest, and for a moment, I froze.

His scent hit me first, fresh and clean, expensive, with a soft hint of pine, like the air after a storm. It curled into my nose, into my chest, like something I never wanted to forget.

I opened my eyes, and saw him.

God.

He didn’t even look real. Like someone straight out of a magazine, the kind you stare at too long. His jaw was sharp, with just enough stubble to make him look effortlessly good. His lips were set in a straight line, but they still looked soft.

And his eyes, Icy blue and intense, met mine like he could see right through me.

I forgot how to breathe.

He’s so handsome…

No, not just handsome. Devastating. Dangerous. The kind of man who could destroy you without lifting a finger, and you’d thank him for it.

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Thud. Thud. Thud. Like a drum going wild in my chest.

And he was still staring at me.

Still holding me.

Still not letting go.

I could feel every inch of his touch burning through the thin fabric of my jacket, his hand firm around my waist like I might disappear if he loosened his grip.

Why wasn’t I saying anything?

Why couldn’t I move?

Why did I feel like I’d just been caught in the middle of a slow-motion dream I wasn’t ready to wake up from?