Page 135 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

“I TOLD YOU, WE BANNED THAT NAME FOR TONIGHT, IMMY!” Ramón yelled from the bedroom. “That’s another shot for you!”

Imogen just shrugged and turned away from the mirror. “Maybe I said it on purpose. Maybe I wanted to take an extra shot,” she said with a wink at me.

I laughed a little again, turning back to the mirror to put on my own lipstick. Then, I stepped back to give myself a final once over.

Imogen had straightened my hair and pulled it up into a sleek, high ponytail. She’d drawn dark eyeliner on my eyelash line and added mascara onto my long lashes. It drew focus to my big blue eyes, she’d said.

I tugged on the straps of the black spaghetti strap bodysuit, pulling it up so the neckline lay higher on my chest. Not that there was much to spill out or be exposed, but it was still a lower neckline than I was used to, and the champagne-colored sequined skirt was shorter than I usually wore. And paired with the strappy black heels Imogen insisted I wear, I felt out of my element for sure.

But Ramón and Imogen both said I looked great, so I was going to go with it and make the most of this night out.

Imogen was right. I needed it. Needed a distraction, and needed fun. And needed to work on my friendships with my fellow dancers.

“Wesley who?” I muttered under my breath, standing up straighter and tossing the end of my ponytail over my shoulder.

His cold shoulder—a real one, this time—was hurtful, and it stung, but I wouldn’t let it bring me down. I would have fun with my friends, and then, over the weekend, I would drive to Crescent Lake again and confront him. I had been too timid to follow through with that idea, but no more. He would get a piece of my mind.

“That’s one shot for you too!” Ramón called to me, and I laughed as I walked out of the bathroom to join them.

We made our way out of Imogen’s building and down the street to the club. The others from the company who were coming would meet us there. Imogen linked her arm through mine, the long sleeves of her glittery silver dress scratching my skin slightly.

Ramón linked with my other arm, his leather jacket cool against my skin. I was grateful for his presence because, one, Imogen and I would stand no chance against any men on our own, and two, because I hated the feel of eyes on me, especially when I wore something as revealing as I was wearing to go to the club.

“Don’t we need to wait in line?” I asked as Imogen bypassed the people waiting outside and walked straight to the door.

“Nope,” she said. “We’re on the list.”

The bouncer at the door nodded at us, not even asking for ID, and stepped aside so we could enter.

As soon as we were through the door, the thumping of the bass greeted us. It vibrated from the floor up through my feet and made the air itself tremble.

The sound resonated in my chest, and my heart worked to match the beat. The flashing lights of the neon signs and the spotlights above the dance floor cut through the otherwise dark club, casting an otherworldly glow over all the occupants.

Imogen led us straight to the bar, moving through the crowd with ease, like she’d been there hundreds of times. She shouldered her way to the edge of the backlit counter, squeezing in between a tall blonde man and a shorter, dark-haired female with full lips.

“We need six melon ball shots!” Imogen ordered over the loud music. “And two beers and…” She looked at me, waiting for me to tell her what I wanted.

“Oh, um…” I pursed my lips together in thought as I looked around the club, taking in the pulsing energy and the people’s movements on the dance floor. I searched my brain for the name of a drink—any drink—and said the first one that came to my mind. “A mojito?”

“And a mojito for the birthday girl!” Imogen finished, turning back to the bartender.

“Birthday girl?” he said, his brow raised as he glanced at me. “Your twenty-first?” he asked me, and I nodded. “First drink is on the house,” he said, flashing his pearly whites at me and tossing me a wink.

“Thanks,” I muttered, turning away from him to check for Ramón.

Ramón met my eye and threw his arm over my shoulder, giving it a small squeeze and pulling me slightly closer to him. I don’t know if he was just being friendly or if he sensed my discomfort with the flirty bartender, but I would not question it.

Imogen paid, and we stood there as he fixed our drinks. The brunette girl on the other side of Imogen watched the bartender intently as he mixed my drink and poured our shots, her eyes flicking up to the balcony where there was a giant, flashing VIP sign.

The darkness cloaked the occupants of the booths up there, so while we couldn’t see them, they could see us. I tore my eyes away from the furthest booth where she had thrown her glances, even though I could sense eyes on me from there.

“Thank you!” Imogen called to the bartender as he took her tip and walked away. “Cheers!” she yelled, passing us each two of the shots and our drinks.

Ramón lifted both of his shots, one in each hand, and nodded at me, waiting for me to grab mine. Imogen had hers ready, too, so I lifted one into my hand as well. We clinked our glasses together, then downed our shots, throwing our heads back.

I winced as the liquid went down, my eyes watering, but I didn’t let it show as I brought my gaze back to my friends.

Ramón was already wiping his mouth with his sleeve, setting both of his glasses down on the counter. Imogen did the same, only she used a napkin, dabbing daintily at the corners of her mouth.

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