The Alpha’s Pen Pal
Chapter 25

I had forgotten how crazy the week leading up to opening night could be. Last week was already rough, with early morning classes and rehearsals and last-minute things being added or moved or cut. But this week was even worse. Plus, with it being a brand new company in the area and our very first premiere, the stakes were just higher all around. Nevertheless, Wesley had found ways to spend time with me. Saturday was a bust, as I slept in after our date and we had rehearsal all day after that, but Sunday we had "brunch" together, and Tuesday, he picked me up after rehearsal and drove me the walkable distance to my apartment building on his way back home from work.

But even though we were spending time together when we could, and even though we'd shared that mind-blowinglyamazing kiss on our date, neither of us had tried to kiss the other again. But I wanted to. f**k, did I want to.

Kissing Wesley was so different from kissing Lennox. Or any other guy I'd been with. With others, I kissed them because that was just what you did with the person you were seeing. With Wesley, it was like waking up when he kissed me. Like I could truly see for the first time.

It was Wednesday, and morning class was just about to begin. I sat in front of the mirror as I waited for Anya to arrive and start barre when my phone vibrated in my bag. I grabbed it out quickly to see an incoming message from Wesley. Bossy Pants Wes: Good Morning Twinkle Toes

I smiled and giggled to myself. He had texted me so much since Friday night that he was bringing new meaning to "unlimited texting."

Me: It's like... 10am

Bossy Pants Wes: Would you have preferred I texted you at 5am when I first woke up?

Me: ... no

Bossy Pants Wes: That's what I thought

Me: *eye roll emoji*

Bossy Pants Wes: When does rehearsal start?

Me: Soon.

I snapped a quick picture of myself in the mirror to send to him.

Bossy Pants Wes: Beautiful

I scoffed at that. He was ridiculous.

Me: Don't even. I look like an exhausted pigeon.

Bossy Pants Wes: But a beautiful exhausted pigeon

Anya walked in, and everyone stood up to get to their spots at the barre, so I quickly told Wes goodbye.

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 asked him 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 runthrough, Peter called us all out onto the stage so he could 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 reallocate 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 repeatedly to make sure I hadn't misunderstood or 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 really 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 was across the room, wrapping his arms around my shoulders from behind me. My hands automatically 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.

My tears fell unbidden as he held me. I had spent the last almost 12 years reteaching myself to not cry, or to at least hold it back until I was alone. But with him, it seemed all of that went out the window. I couldn't hide my true emotions from him. And part of me didn't want to.

"What happened?" Wesley asked, his chin resting on the top of my head.

I nodded towards my phone on the counter, my throat too tight to speak. He loosened one arm from me to grab it, then handed it to me and wrapped me up again.

His thumb rubbed my arm as I unlocked the phone and handed it to him so he could read the message. I watched his face in the mirror as he read, his brow furrowing with each passing moment. His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened with his rising ire. He tossed the phone onto my bag with a noise that was almost a growl. He moved in front of me and his hands came to my face, tilting my head up towards him as he wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs, and I crossed my arms over my stomach, squeezing myself tight.

"I don't even know why I'm crying," I told him in a scratchy voice. "After everything I've realized over the last week, it shouldn't even surprise me or upset me or anything, but-"

"You're grieving," he said, stepping as close as my tutu would allow, his brown eyes looking down at me with warmth. "You've lost the family you convinced yourself you had, and have realized you can't trust the two people who you should trust the most. Of course you're hurt and upset. I don't expect you to get over something like that so quickly," he murmured, then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "Don't ever feel bad about crying in front of me. It's not a weakness," he added, his lips brushing against my skin. I nodded at his words. The way he understood my fears and doubts and insecurities, the way he could ease my mind with just his words and his presence and his compassion, was more than I could have ever expected from him.

"It sucks," I admitted to him, as fresh tears fell out of my eyes. "It's like they don't even understand how important this is to me. Or maybe they do, but they just don't care. I don't know. I just - I keep wondering why..." I stopped and took in a breath, trying to calm myself and keep my voice from getting hysterical. "Never mind," I said, shaking my head.

"Why they even adopted you?" Wesley asked, pulling back to look at me in the eyes.

My breath shook, and I nodded, blinking rapidly.

"Do you want me to call them?" he asked, his voice strained and his eyes lit with anger and the promise of defending me. "I can call them and give them a piece of my mind, and-"

"No," I told him, shaking my head. "It's not worth it. They're not worth it. I need to just cut them out of my life, and this is the perfect time to start that," I said.

He narrowed his eyes, then gave a reluctant nod. I leaned forward and rested my cheek against his chest, our eyes meeting in the mirror as I continued talking.

"So, now I have these tickets to the premiere on Friday. And I don't know what to do with them. I'd give them to you, but I know you already bought some. And I don't want to give them back to the box office because I'd rather give them to someone I know." He nodded as he listened to me babble, his gaze turning inwards and thoughtful.

"I have an idea," he said after a few minutes.

"Yeah?" I asked, brightening a bit.

"Yes," he said with a small smile. "Are you ready to get out of here?"

"Definitely," I told him. "I just need to change," I said, leaning back and gesturing at my costume.

"I'll wait outside your door," he said, then placed another kiss on my forehead before turning to leave.

I stood from the stool, wiped my tears from my face, and then froze. "Um... Wes?" I asked, swallowing as he turned around. "I can't - I can't get this off by myself-"

I gestured vaguely towards the back of the bodice, where there was a line of about 20 hooks and eyes that I could not undo without help.

"You want me to-?" he asked.

I nodded, and he inhaled slowly, then walked back over to me.

His large hands worked with surprising gentleness as he undid each fastening, taking his time so he didn't ruin the costume.

I held the front of the bodice to myself with my hands as his moved down my back, his fingertips occasionally brushing against my skin. And I don't think any of the touches were accidental. "How do you get it on?" Wesley asked.

"I have a dresser," I told him.

His hands stilled on my back, and I felt him tense up a bit. Then his hands started moving again as he said, "Male or female?"

My brows moved together in confusion, before I realized what he was trying to ask me. I lifted my eyes to meet his in the mirror, and raised an eyebrow at him, a tiny smile threatening my mouth. "Male or female, Haven?" he repeated, my name spilling out of his mouth with a growl.

"If I say male, what will you do?" I teased, leaning back slightly so his fingers met my skin again.

"Haven..." he warned, his hands dropping from my costume and forming fists at his side.

He tilted his neck to the side, cracking it slowly, and closed his eyes. His nostrils flared just a little and his shoulders rose and fell even more rapidly than when he'd first appeared in my dressing room doorway. I turned around and placed my hand on his chest, feeling his heart rate slow at my touch. "Calm down, Pal. It's Maya."

"Hmph," he grunted, his hands grabbing my hips and squeezing slightly. "It better be," he added. He tilted his head at me and raised his eyebrows, then he chuckled slightly. "Pal. Like pen pal?" "Yep," I chirped.

He shook his head and laughed again. "Just get dressed, Twinkle Toes," he told me, kissing my forehead one last time before he walked out of the dressing room and closed the door behind him.