You fell on the ice again, failing for the third time to complete that spin you had been trying to master for over two hours.

"Your speed is fine, but your posture is incorrect." you heard Jackson, your instructor, say from a few meters away. You got up, letting out a sigh of frustration that made him smile. Something about your determined, stubborn, and perfectionist nature seemed endearing to him.

He skated over to you, stopping right in front of you. His height, talent, the elegance with which he moved, and that mysterious aura along with his attractiveness—no wonder he was not only one of the most sought-after instructors but also one of the most admired faces in magazines. Models should be grateful that Jackson was a figure skater and not a model because he would undoubtedly take their jobs.

"Your mistake isn't just in the incorrect technique but also in how exhausted your body looks. You need to rest." You refused his words and tried to move to practice again, but his hand holding your chin, making sure your gaze stayed connected to his eyes, stopped you. And that smile he gave you, which stole the breath from your lungs and made your legs feel weak, only made you realize that Jackson was more than just a skating instructor to you. "This isn’t a request. It’s an order, you stubborn little thing."