Chapter 5
Rohan
Zayne finishes up his usual speech that we go through before each game, and we listen intently.
I can hear the crowd cheering even backstage.
My nerves are surprisingly calm, but who knows how I’ll feel once I see that smug asshole tonight.
Thankfully, we haven’t run into each other lately or even at the venue.
Call it a blessing.
“We ready?” Zayne says, turning to us at the archway before we hit the stage.
“Hell yeah!” Milo grins. Lucas and I give him a small nod. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be. We’ve practiced day and fucking night. If we lose this, no, we won’t lose this…
We can’t.
Not to him.
Our team is announced after Tyson’s, and we come out onto the stage with that cue. I try not to acknowledge him, but I can always feel him. The hair on my neck standing at attention anytime he’s near.
“Tonight’s the night! Rohan vs Tyson!” The interviewer says into the mic, and I roll my eyes. He’s clearly enjoying this a little too much.
“Tyson’s been going pretty strong, Rohan. We know you’re ready to get your title back. What do you think your chances are?”
“You’ll just have to see, I guess.” I shrug because I’m not answering that stupid ass question.
I walk off towards the chairs as Zayne finishes up the interview.
He and Roman, Tyson’s team leader, share a small smile and nod before heading down to their seats.
The moment I slip the headset on, I hear Tyson’s deep, agonizing voice in the lobby.
Sometimes I think it irritates me even more because I won’t lie, he has a nice voice.
“Hey, kitten.”
“Don’t fucking call me that, Tyson!” I snap.
Already getting under my skin.
I hate when he calls me that. I have no idea when he started, but it makes my blood run hot. Can’t let him do this shit again. Usually, I would’ve muted him by now before he could even speak; I don’t know why I haven’t.
“Someone’s a bit cranky. Did my little kitten not sleep well last night?” he drawls.
I look ahead where Tyson’s leaned back into his chair, his body annoyingly relaxed as he smirks at me. I snap my head away and try to ignore him as best I can.
I shouldn’t have even looked.
“Don’t let him get to you, Ro,” Zayne says, sitting down next to me. I let out a sigh and nod. He’s right, I need to focus and not fall for his stupid taunting. But it’s like he knows exactly how to irritate the fuck out of me. Pushing buttons I didn’t even know I had.
“Here we goooo!” Milo smiles, “We got this, Roro!” I chuckle at him calling me that. Which he does when he’s trying to cheer me up.
“I’m ready.” I nod.
Lucas and Milo both put their headsets on and turn to the screen where the match is set to begin any minute. The lights lower, and the audience erupts before quieting down again as the game begins.
And I force down every ounce of desire to glance at him.
The match starts. I immediately go after Tyson, knowing I have to take him first so Milo and Lucas can do what they need to do.
Zayne supports me for the first kill, and we take Tyson out quickly.
The boys rack up some kills on his teammates before he respawns.
I know he’s lurking, waiting for me. My jaw clinches as I go to shoot down one of his teammates, but it’s a decoy, and Tyson comes out from behind a wall, killing me instantly.
“Fuck!” I sneer, peeking at Tyson because I can’t fucking help myself. And he’s smirking at me. I flip him off and go back to the game after I’ve respawned.
My whole body feels like it’s boiling.
I go after him again, and he shoots me down dead in my tracks. How the fuck is he so fast? Feel like he’s even faster than the last time we practiced. Was he just fucking around then?
“Rohan, slow down!” Zayne says over the headset, but I’m too pissed.
I only get in one more kill on Tyson before disaster strikes, and he practically starts hunting me. He knows exactly what I’m about to do before I can even think to do it. I’m getting crushed in spirit and in the game. I bite my lip so hard I break skin, the blood metallic on my tongue.
The clock rings out.
We lost.
Again.
I lost to Tyson again.
My gaze flicks toward him, and he’s staring directly at me.
I must be hallucinating because he almost looks like he feels a little bad for me.
Which makes me even more pissed to think he would feel bad.
I don’t need Tyson Moon pitying me. The crowd’s cheers finally hit my ears, and I find myself on autopilot as I stand in the center of the stage for the handshake.
When I finally reach Tyson, I think about not shaking his hand and skipping him completely, but I don’t want him to think he’s got me flustered.
Even though he does.
“Good game, Chandra.” He smiles, flicking his tongue over his snake bites before grasping my hand firmly.
His palm feels warm.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Why can’t you just loosen up and be a good sport for once?” Tyson says, then his voice lowers, and he pulls me a touch closer. “Maybe I could help you with that.”
I pull my hand back as if he’s set it ablaze. “I wouldn’t let you fuck me even if you were the last man on earth, Tyson,” I grit out.
“Who said anything about fucking Rohan?” He smirks, and I want to rip it off his stupid face.
“Ugh, just fuck off.” I sneer.
“I would love nothing more,” he says, rolling his eyes at me as if I were the biggest annoyance in his life.
“You’re acting like that after you were just flirting with me.”
“Was I? Or do you wish I were flirting with you?” He scoffs.
“Alright, alright, boys, enough,” Zayne says, nudging me down the line. I shake the rest of his teammates’ hands and dodge the interviewer. Because what the hell is there even to talk about? We lost, and I’ll be damned if I’m humiliated even more than I already have been.
I lost my chance at getting my title back again. My eyes begin to sting as tears I force back well up. Every time I face Tyson, I’m being shoved further away from my dream.