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The memory of tryouts arises, uninvited. Sabra fighting dirty and me fighting back—equally as dirty, but with a dagger. I’ll admit, it was a terrible split-second decision, and normally I’m a little more controlled with my blades, but something about Sabra just… bothers me.

I let out a puff of air and slam my fist harder than necessary into the grass. My flames burst higher and brighter than choreographed, breaking the three dimensional picture of a solar ball shooting through an oval instead of a circle.

Akemi glances sideways at me. Damn that woman and her keen perceptions.

I look away first.

The routine ends in a crescendo. Akemi and I combine our magic, her golden flare weaving through my darker sunfyre until it blooms overhead into a massive blazing sigil of the Watch.

The crowd roars approval.

I stand slowly, and for a moment, it feels like I accomplished something.

I hate that it feels good.

The halftime bell tolls again. Players begin emerging from the tunnel, patched and refueled.

Leaf jogs out last, smile bright for the projection and suit fully replaced.

Tragic.

His locs are tied back, shoulders gleaming with sweat, grin already in place like he owns the concept of joy.

He glances toward us.

The players rush to their positions on the field. I ignore the way my eyes track Leaf’s lithe steps. I swear that man prowls more than walks.

The second half of the game begins as the whistle shrieks. The flare shoots from the center flap in a burst of gold.

Leaf moves first, obviously. Of course he does. Sunshine incarnate, all long limbs and stupid confidence.

I grip my choker with one hand, thumb rubbing the cool surface of my Source stones.

Leaf pivots around Harley with infuriating grace. When he throws up a solaris shield like it’s instinct, something tightens in my chest.

I could be out there. I should be. My blood heats just thinking about how I’m stuck, sidelined.

“HEY LEAF!” I shout. “Try keeping your pants on this half!”

The squad howls.

Leaf laughs mid-stride, causing the flare to bounce out of his arms. He hits it back and forth between his palms while regaining his balance like a drunk juggler I once had the displeasure of seeing in Redrock.

Idiot.

He catches the flare and takes off just as the hoops ignite in a roar of flame.

The game picks up to a brutally fast pace.

Wyatt slams into the Front, Harley. Riot and Jax collide again like they have a personal vendetta against each other’s ribs.

Leaf weaves seamlessly between them all when the idea hits.

“Akemi,” I say, waving her closer.

She hears it in my tone immediately. Her golden eyes sparkle. “No.”

“Yes.”