I spend the next couple of weeks trying desperately to ignore Ryker's "offer."

I know he's just trying to mess with me. He thinks he's God's gift to all mankind, and while he probably said it in earnest--thinking he'd be doing a favor by fucking me--I'm positive he's forgotten about it by now.

Even if I haven't.

It's easy enough to keep my focus on preparing for the upcoming tournament during team hours. But when I'm in the gym first thing in the morning, I keep remembering what he said to me. I can hear it in his smug, sexy voice like he's right there behind me, leaning over me while I use the machines.

I even catch myself fantasizing one morning. I imagine that very same thing--him talking dirty to me, telling me all the things he's going to do to me. Then I imagine letting the machine drop with a loud crash and standing to face him before I shove him down on the weight bench, tug his pants past his hips, and use his cock just to deny him the satisfaction of being the one to actively make me come.

Of course I also imagine him flipping me over so my own dick is trapped between my body and the bench, my sleeveless undershirt pulled over my head and used as a harness for him to hold onto as he fucks me into a state of absolute bliss.

As soon as I catch myself having those thoughts, I adjust the weight on the machine until I can't think about anything beyond how much my muscles burn as I use it.

I know he's full of it. I know he is. I also know he's an asshole who'd say anything just to get a rise out of me. But there's some desperate, pathetic creature inside of me that craves the chance to see him in action. And with every day that passes, I find those thoughts harder and harder to ignore.

I thought it would be the opposite. The first few days after the world boss fiasco, everybody and their brother was talking about what happened and speculating wildly. I was contacted by five different sites, all asking for exclusive interviews. I turned them all down, and the next day there was a flood of hot takes from those same sites.

Only one of them came close to the truth, theorizing that maybe Ryker and I aren't exactly the rivals we seem to be. But they went on this whole conspiratorial tangent--with "evidence," of course--about how we were in cahoots and just doing it for the attention.

Personally, I'm glad when interest dies down, though my mind isn't as clear as I'd hoped. I'm hearing less about Ryker on social media, but he's still there, constantly inside my head. It takes a week before I realize why.

The con.

Every year, the creators of Estalia Online host a huge conference in San Francisco, where their main studio is based. The Cyclones have gone every year, and we usually host some kind of charity livestream on site. Sometimes we're invited to participate in panels or events, but we always go regardless. Even before we were a team, every individual member made it out to Crit Roll Con at least once.

I haven't missed a year since it started in 2013, but part of me is considering skipping out this time.

Because Ryker's going to be there. He said as much, and he's already confirmed it on his Instagram. There's a video of him getting his plane tickets on his phone, along with the confirmation email from the hotel. In it he makes a joke about people looking him up for a good time, because of course he does.

I know it's a coward-ass move, but I guess I'm a little afraid of what might happen if we're in the same place at the same time. I'm afraid I'll give in to that dark, needy desire he somehow manages to bring out in me, and that he'll just laugh in my face and tell me it was all a lie.

I'm more afraid he'll tell me it isn't.

Those are the thoughts that play through my mind not just at the gym, but at home once I'm done recording and editing for the day. Even now, taking a break before dinner, I'm thinking about it--about him.

I lie in my bed, phone above me as I scroll through various social media. The internet's already moved on from what happened, but I definitely haven't.

As soon as I go to play one of Ryker's Instagram stories, though, I hear Coach Singh's voice from the hall.

"Dinner's ready. Everybody downstairs. No exceptions."

I know she's dead serious. Everyone knows that unless you're on your deathbed, you don't skip team dinners. Every time someone makes excuses for why they can't be there, Coach Singh pulls out the "family" card. She's spent a full hour before talking about how dinner time was the only time she ever got to really talk to her brothers and her parents throughout the day, and she'll be damned if she doesn't continue the tradition here.

So I close all the open apps on my phone and set it on the bedside table--another rule of Coach Singh's--before heading downstairs. My teammates trickle in, all of us taking a seat at the table. We talk and laugh and enjoy the meals the hired chef made. Mine's a beautiful cut of steak cooked medium rare, with a warm salad of greens on the side. Beside me, Rosa eats a big bowl of vegan pasta. We're all insanely spoiled by the chef Coach Singh hired to cook for us three nights a week, but I feel even more privileged to have my family around me.

When we're all laughing and joking with each other and there's a permanent smile on my face, it's impossible not to be grateful for Coach Singh's insistence.

Once we've mostly finished our food, Coach taps her water bottle with her fork like we're at a wedding reception. It works, though. Everybody stops talking and looks at her, and she pushes out her chair to stand.

"Okay, so I have some news. The first part isn't going to surprise anyone: the points were tallied, and we're officially invited to compete at the convention."

Even though we all knew it was coming, it's impossible not to cheer. We work hard to stay at the top and--aside from idiotic slip-ups like what I let happen with Ryker--we don't slack off once we get there. It feels good to be officially validated as one of Estalia Online's most competitive raiding teams.

"I also had a talk with Nat20's PR rep right after," she continues, and her expression betrays absolutely nothing. "They'd like us to take on a brand-new boss at the con. It's never been released and won't be released until the next major content update, but they're giving us first crack at taking it down."

"Whoa, that's huge," I say, genuinely surprised.

Nat20 is known for being really, really picky about what they release for public viewing. They don't do pre-launch livestreams until hours before the actual launch of the update, and they take months to perfect even the smallest content additions.

Letting us take on a boss that's only been touched by internal QA is a whole new frontier, and to me it says they recognize what our presence can do for the game and the update they want to promote.

My teammates seem to agree with me, and there's some excited chatter before Coach Singh delivers the second half of that news.

"We won't be going at it alone," she begins innocently enough, before dropping the mother of all bombs, "they've also invited Victoria Aut Mors. They want us to work alongside them, and they're going to be streaming the whole thing."

I sit there just staring at her for a while, knowing I must have misheard. Rosa's reaction makes it clear I haven't.

"What is this, Real World: San Francisco? Making us work with them is going to be a disaster, straight up. And they know it!"

I've always respected Nat20 for the company's honest practices in a world where milking the consumer for all they're worth is the new normal. But this? This is the equivalent of inviting people to comment on a clickbait article.

"You told them no, right?" I ask before thinking. "They can't do this. If they want us to push their new content update, fine, but I'm not letting them seat us in the fucking Thunderdome for everybody's entertainment."

"Finn," she says, her tone calm even as her dark eyes tell me I need to stop while I'm ahead.

But I don't. I just go barreling on.

"It's ridiculous! I mean, at best it's disrespectful. At worst it just looks desperate on their part, and it makes us look desperate by extension. I'm not going to let them do that to us."

I can hear my teammates murmuring, some of them agreeing with me. Most are looking at Coach Singh, who's staring me down in the same way a principal stares down a problem student.

"Okay. Everybody clean up your plates and go back to what you were doing. Finn, outside."

It's not a request, and I feel the first rush of shame wash over me as I realize I've completely undermined her authority in front of the team. I've never been the kind of person to make someone look bad; to openly question them in front of the people who are supposed to respect them.

As I walk out onto the porch, it's everything I can do not to hang my head. I let the French door close behind me, then immediately say, "I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"You were," she agrees, though there's no hint of anger in her tone.

"I shouldn't have questioned you in front of the others."

Her brow furrows, and she sits down on one of the rocking chairs that line the porch, her forearms resting on her knees.

"That's not why I'm disappointed, Finn. I happen to agree with you. I think they're using us to sell virtual tickets, and I plan to seriously re-evaluate how we approach these events in the future if it goes the way I'm expecting."

"Why not tell the rep that?" I ask quietly.

"Because I need to set an example. And as captain, so do you." She jerks her chin back toward the house. "Everyone in there adores you, but that comes with a world of responsibility. I know you know that."

I do. I think about it every single day.

"We're not allowed to be petty, Finn. Not even when it's justified. We have to be better. We have to do better."

I look at the house, too, as if I can see through it to the poster on the wall. "Be Better Than Your Best.” Everything we do revolves around those words. But over the past two weeks, I've very nearly sunk to Ryker's level, all because of my own desires.

Coach Singh pats my knee, gives me a smile, then says, "You're captain for a reason, Finn. I know you'll do what's best for the team."

Her confidence in me is humbling, but there's something alarming about it, too. Because even now, I'm still not sure what will happen when I meet Ryker in person.

But I can almost guarantee it won't be what's best for the whole team. I don't even think it'll be what's best for me.