My Hockey Alpha Neighbor

Aiden noticed my hesitation and turns to me. He quickly rushes to my side. “Are you okay, Carol?” he asks, his voice soft

with worry.

I’m having a hard time vocalizing what exactly I’m feeling. Deep in my bones, I know that something’s wrong. I can’t possibly justify why I’m feeling this so strongly, though.

Before I can respond, a faint clicking noise sounds from nearby Aiden and I become still. Aiden’s werewolf instincts kick in before I can think. He moves protectively in front of me, scanning our surroundings with a wary eye.

The light from the garage is the only thing that gives us a view of the surrounding area. Other than Aiden’s car and part of the driveway, it’s difficult to make anything else out. It’s only because I’m familiar with the property that I think to look toward the cluster of bushes on the far side of the driveway.

As we peer even harder into the darkness, we just barely see the outline of a figure lurking in the bushes. Aiden’s jaw clenches with irritation. Judging by his reaction, he most likely thinks the figure is a member of the paparazzi.

“Hey, you there!” Aiden calls out, his voice ringing out in the night. “What do you think you’re doing? Get out of our bushes!”

I hear a rustling sound coming from the darkness most likely, the stranger is trying to escape. Aiden darts forward and grabs at the shadowy figure before they can slip away. He drags out the intruder into the faint light.

I can just barely make out a man in dark clothes holding a camera. He has a black baseball cap pulled as far down as it will go over his face, paired with a black face mask. Everything about him is bizarrely nondescript. I hear alarm bells going off inside my head. Everything about this feels suspicious.

Aiden, on the other hand, takes one look at the camera and is evidently reminded of his many encounters with reporters. He demands that the intruder delete any photos he has taken and harshly admonishes the man.

As I observe the man more closely, a sense of unease, seules over her. He isn’t wearing any company merchandise like a typical member of the paparazzi, and his camera lacks the branding that journalists often carry. Plus, it’s strange to see a member of the paparazzi acting completely alone, especially so late at night–and on private property, to boot.

“Aiden, something’s not right,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “He doesn’t look like a paparazzi, and his camera isn’t branded”

The man looks between the two of us with obvious apprehension in his eyes. Aiden frowns, considering my words. “You’re right,” he admits, his tone troubled. “We need to do something about this. We need to take him to the police and gather more information.

I nod and dial the police. Aiden keeps a hand firmly grasping the man’s collar, making sure he can’t make a break for it. Aiden is the first to speak with the police as soon as they arrive. One officer shoves the man into a police car as the other takes our statements.

“This man was intruding on our property. He took multiple photos without our permission,” Aiden explains feel my heart jump at the word ‘our’ despite myself. Focus, I remind myself sternly.

The police officer arches an eyebrow at Aiden. “Aren’t you Aiden Cruz?” He asks. Aiden’s brow furrows

“Yes, I am.” he says. “How is that relevant?”

“It’s incredibly relevant,” the office sports. “You’ve dealt with paparazzi before, haven’t you?”

cout. “He’s also acting completely

1 feel a spark of irritation and step forward. “He isn’t wearing any paparazzi logos,” i point o alone. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

The police officer shrugs. “Ife could be a freelance photographer” he says dismissively. I feel a rush of frustration. Aiden

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speaks up for me.

MJ

“He’s still committing a crime he points out. “This is private property.”

The police officer still looks unimpressed. “We’ll take him in, but unless he has anything illegal on him, it’s unlikely he’s going to face serious consequences. This kind of behavior isn’t out of the ordinary, especially considering your celebrity status. Isn’t that sort of part of your job description?”This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

Aiden and I try to convince the police officer to take more serious action, but he won’t budge. The police investigate the intruder but don’t find anything more than a few photos on his camera. Aiden tries to learn more about where exactly this intruder comes from and who he works for, but the police refuse to tell us since he hasn’t committed any “serious” crimes.

Aiden and I return to the villa exhausted and even more uneasy than before. We fall into bed. Aiden rubs my back with a concerned expression..

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. I let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know, I admit. “I can’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.”

Aiden nods thoughtfully, “Even if they were paparazzi, what they did was strange and unacceptable,” he says.

your house, I say. I feel my face burn at the slip-up. Aiden smiles. “I just don’t want to feel unsafe anywhere, let alone our but doesn’t comment. Somehow, I get the feeling he’s pleased.

“And that makes perfect sense,” he assures me. “Here. Why don’t drive you to work tomorrow? Maybe after work you could come by training, too. I want to be by your side.”

1 smile and wrap my arms around Aiden tightly. Although his presence is comforting, I still feel strange. That night, I fall into a fitful sleep, my dreams plagued by whispers of warning and impending danger. I wake up the next morning feeling unsettled, the remnants of my dreams clinging to me like a thick fog.

For the next few weeks, Aiden stays by my side as much as he can. Aiden continues to drive me to work each day. Once work is over, I head straight to watch him practice. He keeps a vigilant eye for any possible signs of trouble. With each passing day. I begin to feel more relaxed. Aiden’s presence is reassuring, and we don’t see any other photographers since that night.

Even though the waking world begins to feel more normal, my dreams only become stranger. I don’t hear the elderly woman’s voice again for some time. Instead, I find myself drifting in my dreamscape, untethered. I wake up every morning feeling more confused than when I fell asleep.

At the same time, the more time I spend at practices, the more begin to understand the game. I’m surprised to find that I’m actually beginning to pick up some of the strategies and technique. The previously meaningless drills and skirmishes. slowly start to make sense. I even feel like I’m getting a strong grasp of the rules.

As my familiarity with the grows, Aiden’s talent only becomes more and more obvious. He’s a clear leader on the team. His speed and strength are unmatched by any other player. I understand now why the public has such an intense fascination with him Even the coach seems to defer to Aiden most of the time. Aiden runs many of the practices. Luckily, beach. nowhere near as intensely as he did before

Auden’s athleticism and confidence is absolutely striking I find myself staring at him for a Large majority of his practices. even when I’m supposed to be catching up on emails. It’s a lot more attractive than I would like to adinit

The way be moves across the we truly makes me understand the wolf that his species holds similarity to. His muscles ripple underucalli las lucky gear with each powerful movement Whenever I catch a glimpse of los face beneath his helmet, the

“Tensions the aktimar fhics by a long last, the night before the tag match arrives. The anticipation of the upcoming competition bangs thack in the au My muud swirls with excitement and apprehension as I watch their last practice before

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Despite my nervousness, as Llook at Aiden, his unwavering determination fills me with a sense of reassurance. I know that there is hope for the Statford Freeze. If anyone can lead this team to victory, it’s Aiden.

1 watch from the sidelines as Aiden’s team continues to practice tirelessly. The sharp sound of skates slicing through the ice echoes in the air, mingling with the shouts of the players and the thud of the hockey puck as it flies across the rink.

1960

My attention is suddenly pulled away from their practice by the sound of my phone ringing. I pull out my phone and check the caller ID. To my surprise, I can see I’m getting a call from my mother.

I feel a sense of uncase hanging over me.

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