I honestly thought Ryker wasn't going to show.

Maybe it's conceited, but when I saw his application, I assumed he just submitted it to fuck with me. He doesn't even live in the same state. He had to take a plane from Atlanta to get here. Sure the flight only takes an hour, but it's still a hassle most of our candidates aren't going through because they know they'll have to live on-site.

I genuinely thought he'd bail on the appointment, then DM me later with some cheeky comment asking if I'd missed him. But apparently I'm not giving him enough credit, because he was here early, and seemed... serious.

And I'm not sure what to do with that.

I know I need answers, though, and I turn to Coach Singh with a quick, "Give me just a sec," before I sprint out after him.

He has his phone out, probably finding a ride, and now that I see him again I'm wondering why I didn't just reject his application from the get-go.

Because he's the best person for the job.

If he'll take it seriously. And if I can ignore the current of energy that amps through me whenever I'm near him. I push it down now and try to act like the team captain for once.

"Ryker," I call out to him, steeling myself for that intense gaze when he turns to face me. "If you're pulling something, man, just let it go. It's not worth your time, and it sure as hell isn't worth mine or the team's."

His full lips quirk upward, but there's a twinge of hurt in his eyes. "Why would I pull something?"

"I don't know..."

"Seriously. Why would I spend my own time and money to come out here just to fuck with you? That's what you think I'm doing, right?" he asks, his defensive tone sparking something in me.

"You don't get to act like that's some improbable thing, Ryker. It wouldn't be the first time you've gone out of your way to rattle me."

He lets out a soft snort and shakes his head. There's something he wants to say--I know there is--but he's apparently better at controlling his impulses than I am.

"I'm here for the same reason everyone else is, Finny. I want to compete."

Even with the cutesy nickname, his words are terse. I've obviously struck a nerve, and a part of me actually feels bad about it. That doesn't stop me from pressing the issue, though.

"Why?"

His brows lift and he just stares at me, his eyes asking a question his lips finally form. "Why what? Why do I want to compete?"

"Why do it here? There has to be a team in Atlanta you can join, or another raiding guild that isn't full of toddlers," I grate out, remembering the company he keeps.

"The Cyclones are the best. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. You've built something special here, Finn, and I want to be a part of it. I need to be a part of it."

The sincerity in his words and the way he says "need" stops me in my tracks, derailing any stupid little tirade I was going to go on. The fact that he's complimenting me and my team is one thing, but there's something in him that's genuinely desperate.

And just like him showing up to the interview, I don't know what to do with that. I end up standing there until he laughs almost bitterly and shakes his head.

"I'm gonna get a ride to a hotel. Coach Singh has my number, whenever you guys decide."

I expect typical, suggestive Ryker humor to follow; for him to invite me to join him. But he doesn't. He just goes back to his phone like I'm not even there, and I make the surprisingly slow walk back to the house, more confused than ever.

* * *

"I'm just gonna throw this out there: He's kind of a douche," Aidan says before stuffing a slice of pizza in his mouth.

We'd planned to discuss all the candidates as a team over dinner. Aside from one no-show, everything went off without a hitch and now all of us are sitting around four half-empty boxes of pizza, talking out the pros and cons of each candidate.

And of course it all keeps coming back to Ryker.

"You're kind of a douche," Rosa says with a snort.

"Okay, yeah. But I don't brag about it on social media. The dude's seriously a walking disaster, twenty-four-seven."

Not twenty-four-seven, I want to correct him. I've stalked Ryker's accounts enough to know his dudebro bullshit comes in fits and spurts. I have no idea what triggers it, but it peters out as quickly as it comes on.

"Aidan's right," John says, "he's a liability. We can't have somebody like that representing our team."

"Is anybody going to look at the fact that--oh, I don't know--he's really fucking good?" Zed asks. "We don't need someone on brand for the long haul. We just need someone who can tank."

"No," I say firmly, my first bit of input on the Ryker situation. "I don't want to just bring on a temp. If we make someone an offer, it has to last beyond this tournament. They have to last beyond this tournament."

"Agreed," Coach Singh says quickly.

For the most part, she and I both try to let the team hash out things like this amongst themselves. Neither of us is oblivious to our influence, and we want to make sure everyone's making a decision they can live with.

But some things are too important to leave to a group that's already divided in opinion.

"Well, okay. Let's look at this logically," Marcus—our healer who was sick during the con—makes a gesture like he's sizing up two options. "How was he during the con? Finn? Zed?"

That's a good point. I was tanking beside him, and Zed was healing him. We have insight no one else can provide on his ability to do what needs to be done.

"Honestly? The spikes of damage on him weren't nearly as bad as the ones on Finn. Some of that comes down to class and gear, but I can tell when a tank is using his abilities to save his healers some headaches."

Zed's always been blunt--it's one of the things I admire about him. And he's right. I was so distracted and angry I wasn't using all my abilities.

Even through that, Ryker held it together. At the time I thought he was just an unfeeling asshole. Now...

"He was calm then, too. Focused, even though he knew about the video, and throughout his guildmates were being dicks. Positioning was on point, and he never tried to take on too much or force me to take it on instead."

There's a lot of talk after that, almost all of it centered on Ryker. The other candidates are good, but we all know he's the best. It's just whether or not we're willing to take on the risk of signing him.

We go around on the issue several times, citing the good and the bad. Ryker's the best tank on his server and one of the best in the entire game. He's mastered his class and he has an insanely fast reaction time. ...But he doesn't take things seriously when he should, and he frequently starts fights on social media just because he's bored.

There's also the fact that if he's living here in this house, I have no idea how I'm going to avoid him. The distance between us is the only thing that's kept me acting like a rational human being. I'd like to think the fact that we're both on the same team would keep me from doing anything impulsive, but I just don't know.

"It seems like everyone agrees Ryker is the best person for the job in terms of his skill?" Coach Singh asks.

There's unanimous agreement around the table, and I nod when she looks at me.

"Then why don't we take him on under a strict probationary period. We make it clear if he can't curb the behavior and act like a professional, then he's out."

My heart thumps in a strange beat as my teammates hash out the details of what will essentially be a contract between us and him. It slowly sinks in that Ryker is going to be here. At the house. Within reach at all hours of the day and night.

The proposal's put to me as the deciding vote, and I hesitate. This is what's best for the team. I know that. And I keep hearing Ryker's words, over and over again.

I need to be a part of it.

After a long moment, with everyone waiting on me, I finally make the decision.

"We'll draft up the contract and make the offer. Ryker Winthrop is officially going to be the newest member of the Cyclones."

I just hope I won't regret it.