Page 83 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

“Was my idea!” Reid bragged, interrupting Wesley.

“—is made from leftover fabric from your costume,” Wesley finished. “Maya made it,” he added. “I can’t sew for shit. I tried, but the fabric is so soft and delicate and flimsy, and my hands are so big, and I couldn’t get the thread into that ridiculously tiny hole in the top of the needle, and—”

He frowned at himself and stopped his rambling by pursing his lips. It was funny to see he hadn’t grown out of that nervous habit, although when we were kids, I’d only ever seen him do it in our letters. Seeing him do it verbally as an adult was endearing and entertaining, especially when he got annoyed at himself for it.

“I love it,” I said, grinning up at him.

“You do?” he asked, looking relieved, and I nodded. “Good. I was worried you would think it was cheesy or dumb or—”

“Wesley,” I said, covering his mouth with my finger to get him to stop his rambling before he could even start. “It’s perfect.” He smiled against my finger, and then I grabbed his hand. “Come with me.”

“To do what?” Wes asked as he followed me through the crowd, his hand squeezing mine.

“I want to put it in my dressing room,” I told him as I pulled the stage door open. “For good luck.”

We worked our way around the few dancers still backstage, towards the stairs to the dressing rooms, and then wound our way to the top.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be back here?” Wesley asked, glancing around.

“Peter let you come backstage the other day,” I reminded him.

“Yes, but that was… different.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a stickler for rules,” I teased.

“I’m more worried about you getting in trouble or risking your position.”

“Trust me, after that performance, I think her position is well in hand,” Ramón said as he exited his dressing room. “Ah, you must be Miss Haven’s new paramour, the reason for her recent exquisite dancing,” he teased as he held out his hand for Wesley to shake.

I felt the blood pooling in my cheeks, turning my pale cheeks pink. “He’s not my param—”

“Wesley,” Wesley said, gripping Ramón’s hand. “Haven’s boyf—”

“Friend,” I interrupted, my cheeks heating even more. “He’s my friend,” I repeated.

Wesley shot me a look and squeezed my hand.

“Oh, so you have another male, someone else you’re bringing with you to the gala tonight?” Ramón teased, his brown eyes glinting. “Juggling two men! Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you. I learn something new about you every day!”

“I’m not bringing anyone to the gala,” I mumbled, and I saw Wesley raise his brow out of the corner of my eye.

“Not according to the seating chart they sent us a bit ago,” Ramón replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening up an email. “See?”

I grabbed it from his hand and glanced at the list of tables, and, sure enough, at the same table as Ramón and Imogen was “Haven Wainwright and Guest.”

I looked up from the phone at Ramón’s smug little face and handed it back to him without a word.

“I’ll see you both there.” He winked as he pocketed the phone.

“Two boyfriends, huh?” Wesley asked, a smile in his voice.

“Yes,” I told him. “I have to keep my options open, you know. Can’t put all of my eggs in one basket,” I said as I stepped into my dressing room. “Isn’t that right, Barry?” I added, looking at the wolf stuffy before I set it on the makeup counter.

“Barry?” Wesley asked.

“Short for Baryshnikov,” I said. “He’s a very famous ballet dancer.”

“It’s a female wolf.”

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