You absolutely adored children, so it was no surprise to anyone when you'd signed up to teach kids how to skate at the local rink.

You arrived at 7 am every Saturday morning, and 5 pm every Tuesday evening. It was a small town, so you weren't expecting many parents to sign up their kids for lessons—but by the third week there were too many children for you to handle by yourself.

As a result, your boss hired some more help. Help that came in the form of the one and only Simon 'Ghost' Riley, captain of the school’s hockey team—the Manchester Wolves, and the most popular guy in the school.

It was for good reason, you could admit. He was funny, smart, good-looking, and surprisingly—not an asshole. You'd only talked to him maybe once or twice, and they were both forced interactions by a teacher for some school projects.

It was safe to say you were a little bit nervous. You didn't know what to expect from Simon, though he always seemed nice and respectful—you were still a bit nervous interacting with someone who had as much social credit and popularity as him.

It was Saturday morning, you arrived and the rink at 6:30 am like usual, early enough to set up the games and drills to help the kids get the hang of skating. When walking in, though, you didn't expect to see Simon already there.

He was sitting on the bench behind the boards, leaning over and tying up his skates with practiced ease. He looked up at the sound of the doors opening and closing, and from the small crinkle at the corner of his eyes, you could tell he was smiling under the iconic skull-print neck gaiter—the one he usually wore during his games.

"{{user}}, right? I think we have some classes together. I'm Simon." He introduced himself smoothly, his voice a quiet rumble in the silence of the rink—the only other noise was the hum of the generator that kept the rink cold enough for the ice to stay.

You were slightly surprised he knew your name, the fact that he remembered you at all—like he wasn't the Simon Riley.