Page 8 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

Great, now I’m rambling. You probably won’t even read this, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I was kind of rude to you before. No, scratch that, I was REALLY rude to you.

I could try to push the blame off of myself and say something like “Well, I didn’t know that my pen pal would be an orphan,” but that would be immature of me, because, no matter who the letter was for, I should have never written the letter the way I did. And for that, I am truly, deeply sorry.

I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you never want to write to me again, but I had to at least let you know that I realize I was an ass to you. (I know you’re only nine, so I’m sorry for the language, but it’s truthfully the best word to describe me right now.)

If you’re even reading this letter, and you don’t want to forgive me, then that’s fine. I understand. And if you don’t want to forgive me, and you’re still reading this letter then you can stop reading it now and throw it away or burn it or rip it up or put it in a shredder… whatever makes you happy, however you want to get rid of it… that’s what you should do.

However, if you do want to forgive me, then I’d really like a second chance. A fresh start. I’m not saying to forget what happened before. Just that I would like a chance for us to try this whole pen pal thing again and just see what happens?

The truth is, even with my two best friends, Reid and Nolan, and my brother, Sebastian, I still sometimes feel like there is something missing. Maybe it’s you? Maybe I need a friend with a different perspective on life, someone who didn’t grow up beside me, someone who hasn’t always been my friend.

So, what do you say? Do you think you can give me a chance?

Again, I totally understand if you don’t want to. I don’t deserve it. I really don’t. To be honest, I don’t think I deserve to have you open this letter or even touch the envelope. So, if you’ve made it this far, I guess that means you don’t hate me as much as I think you should.

I’m rambling again.

Just… think about it, Haven.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Your friend (hopefully),

Wesley Stone

HAVEN

My day started the same as most days. I got up, brushed my teeth, got dressed, ate breakfast, and rode to school in Shirley’s car. She played my favorite songs on the stereo during the drive and told me to have a good day as I got out of the car once we’d arrived.

I dropped my backpack off outside my classroom once I entered the campus, and I went to the playground, where I sat on the swings by myself while all the other students found their friends as they arrived.

Then the bell rang, and that’s when the predictable flow of my day went off course.

I was not expecting to walk into my classroom and find a letter from Wesley Stone sitting on my desk. I was not expecting to ever hear from him again. It had been about a week since we had sent our reply letters, and no one else had received a second letter.

I glanced around the room, checking to see if anyone else had an envelope on their desk, but it was clear I was the only one.

I shoved it into my desk before anyone else could see it, and I left it there all day, unable to focus on what Mrs. Rodrigo was saying or teaching or assigning us because all I could think about was the letter in my desk. I only took it out right at the end of the day when we packed up our things before dismissal.

And that’s how I ended up sitting in the backseat of Jack’s car, holding the envelope and staring at it, trying to decide if I should open it or not.

“What do you have there, Haven?”

Jack’s eyes stared at me in the rearview, watching me and waiting for my response.

“It’s a letter,” I said quietly.

He didn’t respond at first, and I turned my attention out the back window.

“A letter? Who from?” he asked, making a left turn onto the road leading away from the school.

I sighed, turning my head back in his direction. “Wesley. My pen pal.”

“Pen pal? That sounds like fun. I didn’t even know people still did that kind of thing.”

I nodded at him, not sure how to respond to that statement. It hadn’t been fun so far, but he didn’t know that.

“What does the letter say?”

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