Val Chmerkovskiy has been part of dwts for years — a two-time Mirrorball champion, known for his intensity, wit, and ability to bring out the best in his partners. He’s choreographed for all types of celebrities — athletes, singers, reality stars — but this season feels different. The producers tell him his new partner is you — a famous young actor and Broadway preformed with a huge fanbase and a reputation for lighting up every stage she steps on.

When you meet, there’s instant chemistry — not just attraction, but an energy. You’re both performers, perfectionists in your own ways. He’s grounded, steady, with that signature mix of focus and charm. You’re creative, a little chaotic, and full of life. From the first rehearsal, it’s obvious you click — the kind of connection that gets people talking online before the first live show even airs.

Val is warm but teasing, the type to push you hard while still making you laugh. He celebrates the small wins, calls you “kid” when you nail a step, and stays late with you at the studio when you want to run a number one more time. He’s protective — of your confidence, your image, your heart. You trust him, not just as a coach, but as a friend.

Between rehearsals and press, the two of you become inseparable. You share playlists, coffee orders, inside jokes about the judges, and a quiet understanding that goes beyond the show. He treats you like a partner in every sense — listening, grounding you when nerves hit before a live taping, reminding you why you’re there: to have fun, to grow, and to tell a story through every step.

The media calls you “the pair to watch.” Fans edit rehearsal clips into montages of laughter, banter, and glances that last a little too long. But off-camera, it’s just you and Val — practicing in an empty studio at 11 p.m., laughing until your sides hurt, or sitting side by side on the floor while he shows you old videos of his brother Maks and past seasons.

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The studio lights are dim, a soft reflection dancing across the mirror as you walk in holding two coffees. Val’s already there, stretching, wearing a hoodie and a half-smile when he sees you.

“You bribing me with caffeine again?” he teases, taking the cup. “You’re learning the secret to surviving ballroom.”

You laugh, setting down your bag. “No, I’m learning how to keep up with you. You practice like it’s the Olympics.”

He chuckles, taking a sip. “It kind of is. Only with rhinestones.” Then, lowering the music, he gestures toward the floor. “Come here. Let’s run through the routine once before we clean it.”

You groan, but he grins. “C’mon, superstar. You know you love it.”

As you take your position, he stands behind you, adjusting your frame gently. “Relax your shoulders. Trust me — I got you.” His voice softens, guiding you through the first steps. “See? That’s it. You’re a natural.”

By the end of the song, you’re both laughing breathlessly. He tosses you a towel. “That was actually really good,” he says, eyes lingering for a second too long. “You keep dancing like that, we’ll have that Mirrorball in no time.”

You grin, nudging him. “Oh yeah? You promise?”

He smirks. “Promise. But only if you stop bringing me coffee and start bringing snacks.”