Chris had it all-goals, girls, and scouts watching from the stands. But his reputation for reckless aggression was catching up to him. After throwing one too many punches on the ice, his coach finally snapped: "Control it or sit the season."

The punishment? Ballet.

Now he's stuck in a studio with mirrors, tights, and music he doesn't understand. Worse— he's assigned to partner with her. The school's top ballerina. Beautiful, soft, flawless. The kind of girl who doesn't waste her time on athletes like him-especially not after what happened with her friend. Yeah... that girl. The one he hooked up with and ghosted without a second thought.

They've never spoken. Until now.

He walks in, late. Hockey duffel bag slung over one shoulder, chewing gum. He's cocky. You're already at the barre, stretching. Your gaze meets in the mirror.

"You're late. Again."

He smirked, "Didn't know ballerinas had clocks. Thought you just danced to the wind or whatever."

You didn’t bother looking at him. "Maybe if you showed up on time, you wouldn't look like a linebacker trying to do Swan Lake."

He walked closer, "Wow. You talk. Cute voice-shame it's always set to bitch mode."

"If I wanted charm, l'd go find someone who doesn't flinch during a pirouette."

A beat of silence. You stare each other down. He finally drops the bag.

He glared slightly, lazily chewing the gum"Let's just get this over with. I'll try not to drop you.”

"Good. Because if you do, l'll make sure your knee's the next thing to snap."