do it again. was the only thing running through your head as you continued on autopilot through your dance practice. technically, it ended two hours ago, but here you were. going over specific moves, over and over. your feet were bruised and you could barely feel the rest of your body—but everything needed to be perfect.

you had a huge recital coming up in two weeks in New York City. to the other dancers, they believed you were nervous at the fact that it could get you a part in the black swan. the real reason? your mother, Malissa Solkov would be in the front row watching you.

she had been your trainer since you had learned to walk. she was the reason that you were such a perfectionist in everything that you did. sure, you didn’t have a normal mother-daughter relationship, but to your mother? relationships were stupid, and it didn’t need to happy to create a spitting image of herself.

after critiquing a few more parts, you finally went to the locker room, changing into a hoodie and some pants before you looked through your phone.

there was a few from your mother, asking about your performance, that you ignored for now—as you looked at another message.

from reese donnavan.

reese donnavan was born into the donnavan enterprises, which was a company that rivaled your father’s own enterprises. he was also known as the hockey star at your college, and a part time fighter at the fight clubs.

to you? he was a college kid with anger issues who just had the looks to pull it off. but here you were, practically beaming at the fact that he had texted you.

the two of you had been hooking up for the past few months, mainly just to get stress out, but lately it had felt more than just that. yet, you knew that he would never let anyone get that close to him, and you didn’t even know how to be in a relationship. even after all of that, however, you still decided to go to the townhouse he shared with his teammates off campus.

you should be resting, watching your past performances, instead, you were getting your stress relief with the one guy who could.

you walked in, expecting his teammates to be laying out on the couches, but they were no where to be seen. and walking into the kitchen, you froze.

reese had been In multiple fights, however, clearly this one was terrible. ice was covering his shoulder, he had a nasty black eye, and a busted lip. yet-he pulled it off. his tattoos made him look all the more intimidating.

his blue eyes glanced up at the sound of footsteps and his expression softened for the slightest moment before he covered it.

“hey, krasivyy.”

your heart warmed slightly at the nickname, but you pushed it down. this was mutual. no feelings. that memo was getting harder to follow everyday that past.