Page 71 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

Not that I minded. His texts were the highlight of my days, what I looked forward to during the busy days and nights of last minute rehearsals.

We bantered back and forth for a few minutes until Anya walked in, and everyone stood up to get to their spots at the barre. I quickly told Wes goodbye so I could join them.

Me: I have to work now. I will talk to you later.

Bossy Pants Wes: Bye, Twinkle Toes.

Class went by fast, and before I knew it, we were in the theater, onstage, in costume, running through the entire production.

“How do you do that?” Ramón asked as I exited into the wings.

“How do I do what?” I replied as I grabbed my water bottle from its spot on the floor.

“Well, one, you make that look so effortless. And two, I swear you’ve gotten even better since a week ago.”

I glanced over at the dancer playing Prince Désiré while sipping my water and shrugged. “I’ve put in a lot of hours since I joined here,” I told him. “Practicing extra, going to almost every Saturday class—“

“That’s not it,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, that may be part of it. But I think it has something to do with that boy you’ve been seeing.”

I nearly spat my water out at his teasing and waggling eyebrows. “I don’t think dating someone can make you a better dancer,” I said with an incredulous laugh.

“Can’t it though?”

He tilted his head and looked at me while deep in thought. I just stared back at him, confused. I considered his words, then laughed a little again, shaking my head.

I opened my mouth to reply, but Ramón said, “Yep. That’s definitely what it is,” and then walked away to where he needed to enter.

I stared after him as he danced through his entrance. Him telling me that was a pretty big compliment. I’d rarely heard him even give one word of encouragement to the other principals, let alone any of the soloists or demi-soloists.

I moved out of the way of some of the other incoming dancers, grabbing my towel and dabbing at my neck and face to keep the sweat from dripping down into my costume.

When we finished the run-through, Peter called us all onto the stage to make a quick announcement.

“Don’t forget to pick up your comp tickets for the premiere in the box office before you leave the theater today. If you don’t grab them, we will allocate them back to public availability! Also, let Valeria know if you will be bringing a plus one to the gala on Friday night after the performance so we can get them on the list.” He glanced around at everyone, and I swear his eyes lingered on me. “That’s all!”

The entire company began talking at once as everyone made their way off the stage and to either the lobby or dressing rooms, depending on if they needed their tickets still.

I, luckily, had already gotten mine, so I made my way up the stairs to my dressing room.

As soon as I walked in, my phone lit up on the makeup counter. I walked to it to glance at who the message was from, then did a double-take.

I sat down on my stool as I read and reread the message from Melissa.

Melissa: Hey Haven! Unfortunately, we won’t be able to make it out to California for your recital this weekend because we didn’t book our flights in time, and everything is completely sold out or ridiculously expensive now. I hope you understand. We will definitely try to make it out for another one. I’m just not sure when! Love you, and good luck!

I sat there and stared at the phone in my hands. I read the message again to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood, misinterpreted, or misread any of it.

I lost track of how many times I read it. I lost track of how long I sat there. At one point, I thought I heard Peter’s voice talking to me, but I wasn’t sure. The theater emptied around me until it was just me and the silence.

I don’t know why it surprised me. They’d never comprehended how important ballet was to me. But I thought they’d at least understand it was my first performance as a soloist instead of in the corps, that it was special and important. But no. They didn’t.

I set the phone on the counter and leaned forward, resting my head in my hands.

Strong, sure, and deliberate footsteps sounded on the stairs, and I looked up as Wesley appeared in the doorway of my dressing room. He braced his hands on either side of the frame as he met my eyes in the mirror, assessing me. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, and a small crease formed between his brows.

I smiled at him in the mirror. But as soon as my lips turned up, water lined my eyes, blurring his massive form in the reflection.

In two long strides, he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around my shoulders from behind me. My hands came up and clutched at his forearms, my head leaning back against his solid, warm chest. His muscular arms held me with such care that I wanted to stay like that with him forever.

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