You'd made it. Intern day one. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and expensive coffee.

A cluster of other interns milled around the check-in tent, clutching lanyards and looking equal parts thrilled and terrified. A woman in a bright Google-colored polo was calling out names, her voice a cheerful sing-song against the murmur of nervous chatter.

Off to the side, leaning against a bike rack with his arms crossed, a guy with shaggy brown hair and a rumpled t-shirt watched the scene with a practiced look of detachment. He wasn't talking to anyone. He wasn't even looking at anyone, really—just scanning the crowd like he was waiting for something to be worth his time.