Auditioning to join the Cyclones was one of the easiest decisions I've ever made.

The news ended up in my feed as soon as Blake officially announced he was leaving, and I started mentally preparing myself. As much as I figured they might have someone waiting in the wings to take on the role, a part of me stayed hopeful. It paid off, because two days after they put up a call for a co-tank, and I was fucking ready.

Granted, I hopped on a plane and flew out to Orlando before I really dealt with the fallout of what would happen if I got the spot, but still. I need to ditch Victoria either way, and I can deal with the hornet's nest that is telling my dad after I get the job.

I have an interview at noon, but Coach Singh let me know I could come early to get a tour of the facilities and to meet everyone. She mentioned over the phone that team culture is a huge part of it, and that she wants everyone to feel like a family.

I'm not sure what that's going to make me, but I land at MCO just before ten and immediately get a Lyft over there. The guy driving is a huge fan, and he talks my ear off about how cool it is that people get to play video games for a living. And while I'm not rude to him, I do keep checking my phone, obsessively opening and closing my DMs.

I don't know what I expect. Coach Singh must have given Finn a heads-up if he's at all involved in the interview process. It's not like he's going to welcome me to town and invite me up to his room afterward so I can fuck him against every surface imaginable. And we definitely aren't going to be buds, hanging out and taking in the touristy shit.

The fact that I've made him come doesn't make him hate me less. In fact, I'm pretty sure he resents it, since he's gone dark on me for weeks now.

As the Lyft driver pulls into the suburban neighborhood where the Cyclones' house is located, I open up the Instagram DM I sent him on the plane ride home. I was fucking desperate, and I almost audibly groan as I reread my words.

First, I shouldn't have sent anything to begin with. He doesn't need to know how much I still want him. Second, I acted so fucking casual about it, and I've had zero chill about the whole encounter since the con.

I start to tap out a response, same as I've done at least a hundred times:

"You okay, man?"

When my Lyft driver says something that isn't just gushing about the Cyclones, it takes me a second to realize I must have actually groaned out loud that time.

"Yeah," I lie.

Just afflicted with a shitty personality and an inability to be completely sincere, apparently.

The guy's Toyota pulls to a stop along a curb, and I look out the window to see a nice, two-story colonial. Looks like some of the trim's been redone, and there's a carved pumpkin sitting on top of a hay bale out front. It's hard to see it very well during the daylight, but I think it's got a dragon carved into it.

"Hey, can I give you my number?" the driver asks, and I come to again, trying to focus as I dig out some cash for his tip. "I know they're doing tank auditions right now, but you'll let me know if they open up a DPS slot, right? I'll be in that raiding guild I told you about by then."

He told me about a raiding guild...? I feel like a complete asshole, but I pull up the contacts list on my phone.

"Yeah, sure. What's your number?"

He gives it to me, I file the contact under "Lyft Guy" and consider it my penance for not listening like a decent human being. I also give him a bigger tip than I normally would, then head for the door.

My trek from the street takes me across some stepping stones that are decorated with mosaic tiles in the Cyclones colors. A perfectly-manicured lawn surrounds me on either side, along with flowerbeds filled with different colored pansies and some pretty massive oak trees.

The porch looks like it's been swept recently, and there are a couple of rocking chairs and a table out here. Beside the French-style front door is a doorbell with the words "Pizza Delivery Module" written above it on a strip of masking tape.

I snort at that and ring it, hearing it echo inside the house. Footsteps follow soon after, and my nerves coil into a tight ball as I wait. Part of me expects Finn, though I have no idea what I'll do if it is him.

Fortunately it's not. A woman opens the door, her honey-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, a pair of sunglasses on her head and an outline where they were on her sunburnt face.

As the only female competitor on the team, it's not hard to recognize her.

"Rosa?" I ask, giving my most charming smile.

She just smirks at me. "What gave me away? Was it the tits?" She pushes the door open and waves me inside. "Come on in."

I do as she says, closing the door behind me, and take in the space. There's a small table in the foyer with a dish that's currently filled with keys--and some loose change and arcade tokens. Modest plaques line the walls as the entryway opens up into a sun room on one side, and the main living space on the other.

I start to peek into the sun room, but Rosa interrupts me before I can get a good look.

"Normally Finn would give the grand tour, but he got a late start at the gym, so you get me instead."

"All the better," I say casually, instantly regretting it when she gives me a look.

She takes me around the main floor, showing me the sun room--which is basically kitted out as a rec room, then the space where everybody practices, along with the kitchen and dining room.

A few other Cyclones members are downstairs. Aidan, who's ranked as one of the best Marksmen in the US. Zed, one of the best healers I've ever seen. And Gabe, who's the youngest person on the team at eighteen, which is really refreshing.

The tour goes by quickly once we get upstairs, since it's mostly bedrooms. I rein in my baser instincts to try and determine which one is Finn's, and Rosa helps curb the impulse by stopping in front of an open door.

Coach Singh sits at a desk in what looks like a makeshift office. There's no bed in here, just a couch and chairs.

"Your twelve o'clock's here, madame," Rosa says, adopting an over-the-top accent.

"James, good," she says, rising from her chair and coming to greet me. "Or do you prefer Ryker?"

"Ryker," I answer with a small smile. Rosa snickers behind me.

"I'm just waiting on my captain, and then we can start the interview process. What do you think of the house?"

"It's nice," I tell her, looking around. "Nicer than I expected. I was honestly thinking it'd be more like a frat house in the middle of hosting a LAN party." I cringe, realizing what I've said. "And that sounds a lot shittier than I meant it."

She laughs, playing it off. "I take it as a compliment. Everyone here works hard to maintain a clean, professional space that still feels like home at the end of the day." She jerks her chin, indicating the space behind me. "Come on. We can get set up while we wait."

My heart starts to pound as I follow her back downstairs. Not because of the interview itself, but because I know I'm going to see Finn soon. It's crazy and stupid and I know it's beyond unhealthy, but my brain has fixated on it and I can't seem to let go.

I focus on Coach Singh as she explains what the team is looking for.

"You know all of this already, so I'll keep it brief: we need someone who excels at the tank role and can compete at a high level under substantial amounts of stress and pressure. You'd be required to live and train on site. No drugs. Limited alcohol, and only after the work day is done. Social media is fine, but talking in-depth about team events or strategies will get you suspended. That all sound like something you can handle?"

"It does," I answer, sitting a little straighter in the chair I took up at the dining room table.

"The single biggest thing is respect. We're a family here, and while we might not always get along, I expect everyone to treat each other with respect and to be there for each other when it counts. There's no room for showboating or grandstanding here."

I start to say something in response, but the front door immediately draws my attention when it opens. Steps echo through the tiled foyer, and after a moment I see Finn.

He's wearing his gym clothes, which consist of shorts and a tight, sleeveless shirt that's soaked through with sweat. It takes him a moment to realize I'm there, but when he does, his eyes widen.

"I didn't think you'd actually show up," he blurts out.

Okay, so maybe he didn't expect me.

Coach Singh gives him a patient--but slightly annoyed--look. "Go shower and change and we'll do the interview."

Finn holds my gaze for a moment longer before snapping out of it. I can't help but watch him as he all-but jogs up the stairs--at least until the clearing of Coach Singh's throat brings me back to the present.

She asks me about how I got into Estalia Online and what other games I play. We talk for a while like new friends sharing a common interest, and it helps ease the tension I feel at knowing Finn is nearby.

By the time he comes back downstairs--not fifteen minutes later--I've mostly tamped down the worst of my nerves.

"Sorry about that," he says, sitting across from me. "Late night reviewing applications and preparing interview questions."

They launch into the interview after asking me if I'm ready, at which point I realize this whole thing has been an interview of sorts. The questions they ask now that I'm sitting here aren't much different from what Coach Singh was casually getting at. They ask about my experience as a tank, why I like the role, and if I've worked closely with a team before. They even give me some hypothetical situations that I have to problem-solve my way out of.

Then they get to the hard-hitting questions. I knew they were coming, but it's still a little uncomfortable.

"Why are you here, Ryker?" Coach Singh asks, her expression turning dead serious. "I don't think it's any secret there's been animosity between your guild and my team, so why interview with us?"

"Honest answer?"

"Please," she responds.

"I want to build a platform. I want people to take me seriously, and your team is the best place for that to happen."

I know it's probably not the answer they want to hear. I can see it in Finn's eyes as he looks at me. But it's the truth. I'm not going to lie and say I've been dreaming of wearing those Cyclone colors since the beginning. That's not who I am.

Coach Singh just nods, turning to Finn. "That's all from me. Do you have anything?"

Without missing a beat, Finn pins me with a searching stare and asks, "You want to be taken seriously, but your past actions don't reflect that. Do you really think you can check the attitude—and the ego--at the door?"

Ouch. I mean, he's right. I've been an obnoxious little fuckboy and he has no reason to think I'd be anything else. This whole process could be for nothing, but I look him in the eyes and answer anyway.

"When it counts? Yeah, I can."

Finn's gaze stays locked with mine for a long moment. I don't back down, even though it's honestly a little unnerving--like he's looking straight through me and into my soul.

"Thanks for coming out, Ryker," Coach Singh rises from the table and extends her hand for me to shake. "We're going to be conducting interviews all weekend, so we won't have an answer for you until Monday, but we'll let you know either way."

It's not a dismissal, but it's a pretty standard "don't call us, we'll call you." I shake her hand, then pause for a second to see if Finn's going to extend his. He doesn't, so I push out my chair, thank them for their time, then head outside to figure out whether I should stick around for a few days, or save myself the trouble and fly back tonight.