Page 131 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

“Of course,” she said, picking her bag back up and moving it over near my water bottle. “Sometimes an outside perspective or fresh eyes can make a big difference in our execution of a piece. Even one we’ve done for years and think we have down perfectly.”

I nodded again, disconnecting my phone from the speaker.

“Do you mind watching me run through one of my pieces for The Nutcracker?” she asked as I picked up my bag.

I looked at her as she sat on the floor, stretching. “Sure.” I sighed, dropping my bag back on the floor and plopping down next to it.

I crossed my legs under me and unlocked my phone as Imogen kept stretching. I checked for any messages or missed calls from Wesley, even though I knew there would be none. But I couldn’t help but hope, anyway.

I blew out a breath and tossed it in my bag, my head leaning back against the mirror and my eyes shutting for a moment as I quelled the rage brewing in the pit of my stomach. As much as she ground my gears, Imogen didn’t need my ire accidentally directed at her.

She cleared her throat, and I tilted my head down to find her staring at me. “I wanted to apologize,” she muttered.

I raised my brow at her. “For?”

“I haven’t exactly been nice to you. Or welcoming,” she said. “In truth, I was kind of jealous,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“Everything is so easy for you. Not even twenty-one and already a soloist. The way you learn the choreography so easily, and your effortless performances…” She shook her head and sighed. “Meanwhile, I’m over here working my ass off to learn all these new pieces and keep them straight and make my dancing look like that of a deserving principal.”

“I work hard too,” I told her. “I put in tons of extra hours here, and I never miss a Saturday class. Just because you don’t see the work doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”

“I never said my jealousy was logical. Just that it existed,” she scoffed.

“And I’m twenty-one now,” I pointed out.

“Semantics,” she said, waving me off. My lips twitched in a halfhearted laugh. “My point is, I was jealous, and I treated you poorly because of that, and I’m sorry.”

I blew out a breath. “Ballet is hard enough as it is. We should be lifting each other up, not tearing each other down.”

“I’ve never really been good at making friends,” she said with a shrug as she crossed one arm in front of her chest to stretch her shoulder.

“Me neither,” I replied with a one-shouldered shrug of my own.

She smirked as she swung her arms and then reached up and behind her back to stretch more. “Seems we have more in common than I thought,” she told me.

She stood up then and plugged her phone into the system. I stayed in my spot on the floor against the mirror as she ran through her piece, giving her feedback and laughing with her when she missed a count or messed up a step, my own stresses and worries forgotten for the moment.

“What do you mean you didn’t do anything for your birthday?” Imogen asked as she picked her stuff up, and we walked towards the door after she finished rehearsing.

“I mean, I had dinner with my old foster family, but other than that, I didn’t do anything.”

“But it’s your twenty-first! You have to do something big!” I shrugged, and Imogen sighed and rolled her eyes. “Hold, please,” she said, pulling her phone out and tapping away rapidly on it.

I paused in the doorway, adjusting my bag on my arm as I waited for her.

“Aaand done!” she exclaimed.

“With what?” I asked, just as my own phone vibrated in my hand.

I looked down at it and internally cringed as I read the text flashing across the screen, the text that Imogen had sent out to every company employee.

COME TO MOONLIGHTERS ON FRIDAY NIGHT AT 8PM TO CELEBRATE OUR VERY OWN SOLOIST HAVEN KENWAY’S 21ST BIRTHDAY!

“Imogen!”

“Haven!”

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