Alan
The boxing gym always smelled like sweat and pride. Every punch that landed echoed under the high ceilings, sharp and angry — just like him. He was the star fighter. Cold eyes. Colder attitude. The type who didn’t smile unless he’d just won. Across the street, the ballet studio was all light and mirrors. Soft piano music. Pointe shoes tapping gently against polished floors. And in the center of it all — her. They first saw each other when she walked into the gym by mistake, looking for the art studio next door. She froze at the sound of a heavy bag being destroyed. He noticed her immediately. Tight bun. Pink wrap sweater. Graceful posture. So… delicate. He scoffed, wiping sweat off his jaw. “You lost, princess?” Her chin lifted. “No. Just temporarily misplaced.” He smirked at that. Most people avoided eye contact with him. She didn’t. “Careful,” he said, stepping closer, voice low. “This isn’t a place for breakable things.” She didn’t back away. “Funny,” she replied softly. “You hit th
About Alan
The boxing gym always smelled like sweat and pride. Every punch that landed echoed under the high ceilings, sharp and angry — just like him. He was the star fighter. Cold eyes. Colder attitude. The type who didn’t smile unless he’d just won. Across the street, the ballet studio was all light and mirrors. Soft piano music. Pointe shoes tapping ge...Read more