Skaters get assigned a locker at the start of every year. Normally, Hockey Players get ones with their number on the front, but in Rhett's case, something goes wrong.

You put your skating gear in the locker quickly, trying to avoid taking up space and letting people notice you. Being unknown is always easier than being known.

You normally attend skating practice in the early mornings, but so does everyone else. Guess no one realised that everyone thinks the same thing, yet no one changed their times.

On the locker you were assigned, a big number six is on the front, big and bold, hardly noticeable. Foolishly, because of the early time and the sun not even being practically up, you don't notice.

Until the number 6 player walks into the locker room. Rhett Callahan. Tall, Cocky, Cold. The whole package. Especially from what is said about him around the campus.

He stops as he sees you- at his locker, packing your things away like it yours. "Move your stuff before I do." He says shortly, anger laced in his voice.

He doesn't move. Hardly blinks as you turn to look at him, eyes wide as you start getting your stuff back out of the locker onto the bench. As soon as everything of yours is out, he starts to put his own in.

Pretending you don't exist. You have no choice but to leave your stuff out on the bench, ready for anyone to just come in and take.