Saving the Second Male Lead

Chapter One

My eyes strained as I stared at my phone screen, so engrossed in the novel that I hadn't noticed the pink morning light that had started to pour through my bedroom window, skatterig warm shadows across my comforter. I probably should've put the book down at midnight, but I had gotten so engrossed in the story that I had stopped noticing the turning of pages. As I hit the 5 am mark, I knew I'd come too far to back down now, even though I'd be paying for it at work in just a few hours.
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"She watched in terror as the demon's claws came tearing toward her, black nails ripping through the air at an unbelievable speed. She shielded her face, though she knew the thin fabrics of her dress would do nothing to protect her from the beast's talons. Not even the strongest armor in the empire could stop them. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for her seemingly inescapable end.
        The air rang with the grating sound of nails scraping against metal, and she was hit by the stinging smell of iron. At first, Ryia believed she was too shocked to feel the pain. She slowly opened her eyes, looking down at her body, expecting a mangled mess.
There wasn't even so much as a scratch on her.
        Her eyes shot up to see what had happened to the monster that had been only moments away from slaying her. Instead of a bubbling, black mass, she saw a man's back.
        "Are you okay, Ryia? Nothing hit you, right?" the man called out with a pained voice that she recognized immediately. He began to turn around, but his body crumpled as soon as he moved. Ryia caught him in her arms before he hit the ground. At first, she thought it was just fatigue, but as she tried to lift him back up, she felt a warm liquid trickling down her arms.
        "Lawrence!" She began to panic, the slick feeling of her hands sickening her. Why was there so much blood?
        Ryia peeked over his shoulder, her eyes growing wide as they fell upon the body of a monster with a sword piercing its chest. Even more terrifying than its festering corpse was the ruby-red blood that dripped from its claws. So that was the noise. Lawrence had killed the monster, but not in time to spare himself from what should have been her fate.
        " What-what happened? Is there anything I can do?" she asked, shaking as she tried to come up with something–anything–that could save him. The burning feeling of helplessness sent her body trembling as she held him.
        "Ryia, don't worry about me. It's just a little scratch," Lawrence smiled, trying not to let the pain show on his face.
        "Why would you protect me like that?"
        His shaking hand brushed away the tears that stained her cheek. "I'd do anything to protect the person I love, to protect you, even if it meant giving up my life."
          Ryia's heart stopped as she choked on her tears at the confession. They'd known each other their whole lives, and of course, she loved him as a friend, but as she looked into his steel blue eyes that had managed to stay bright just for her despite everything, she could see that he didn't mean it in that way.
        No, he loved her with all his heart. And that fact broke hers. Her tears came even faster, cascading down in inconsolable sobs.
        "Don't be sad. If you're sad, then protecting you with my life will have meant nothing. So please, just be happy. I will be fine as long as you can continue living with a smile on your face."
And even though she couldn't fully stop the tears that stained her cheeks, she smiled. She gave him the brightest smile she could manage, even if doing so shattered her heart over and over again. Her chest was crushing under the guilt that she couldn't return the love he'd so selflessly given her. Maybe, in another life, things would've been different; he would've loved her in a way no one else could, she would've fallen in love with him just as much, and they'd both get their happy ending. But dreaming of it now was useless. It wouldn't change the fact that she loved Sawyer, and that her time with Lawrence had been cut unfathomably short.
        "Okay, I'll be happy for you," she said, tipping her forehead against his.
Through shallow breaths, he returned her smile with a small laugh."
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        "What the hell is this?" I cursed at the screen. "This is how the author got rid of the love triangle? By killing Lawrence off right after he confessed his love to her?!?"
        Too sleep-deprived to stop myself, I chucked my phone and watched as it soared across my bedroom. It landed face down with a crack that hurt both my soul and my bank account.
"Dammit,"I groaned, rubbing my eyes. I crawled out of the sheets I was tangled in and picked my phone up off the fake hardwood floors. When I turned it on, the time 5:37 am blared at me through shattered glass. I turned around and plopped back into my bed, debating whether it was worth trying to get an hour or two of sleep or if I should bite the bullet and start getting ready for work. Given how the still-warm comforter seemed to swallow me whole, I went for the former.
Every time I closed my eyes, the book's mental images would flash. Why couldn't Sawyer, the supposed dashing crown prince, die instead? If he was supposed to be the main love interest, then why wasn't he the one who loved Ryia enough to put his life on the line? Why was it the second male lead who had to meet such a tragic end?
        Maybe it was because I'd never been in love myself, but I just couldn't imagine that it would compel Lawrence to give his life up so easily for someone else. There was no way love could be that powerful, right?
        "Stupid," I murmured. As I drifted back to sleep, I pictured an ending where Lawrence didn't die, where he and Ryia got their happily ever after together instead.
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        It was the revving of a motorcycle, not my phone's alarm, that finally woke me up. I opened my eyes and rolled over, checking the time on my phone.
        9:23 am.
        I shot out of bed, my head spinning from the sudden jolt. How could I have forgotten to set an alarm? Work started at 10:00, and I'd be lucky to leave in time to catch the bus. I picked up my phone to call my manager, but her admonishing words from the last time I'd been late flashed through my mind. The furious tone of her voice had been enough for me to know that if I stepped foot into work even a minute late again, I'd be done for. Considering this job was the only thing I had going for me, I couldn't risk it.
I hurried around my room, frantically trying to put my unruly, red curls into a braid that would hopefully mask the fact that they hadn't been brushed in who knows how long. After brushing my teeth, I threw on the first semi-coherent outfit I could find–a cream button-up, a pink skirt and heels– and made a frantic dash towards the door, barely remembering to grab my keys.
I went careening down the flight of stairs that led out to the bustling city streets, barely staying upright as I cursed myself for thinking that heels would be a good idea. I followed the sidewalk, trying not to bump into anyone as I weaved through the crowds. In the distance, I saw the bright royal blue shine of the bus as it waited at the stop. I was still a full two blocks away and picked my pace up into a frantic jog. Getting nervous, I began praying that the driver, the crabby old man who seemed to enjoy waiting till I was only a few seconds away to close the door and pull off, would show me an ounce of kindness this morning. I was certain he'd made it his life goal to make me late to work as often as possible.Its display started flashing, taunting me and the distance I still had to cover.
"Excuse me, Excuse me," I said, my words inaudible as I jostled my way through the people around me.
"Excuse me–"
My apology was promptly cut short as a passerby's elbow knocked me off balance, and my heel caught in a grove. My ankle rolled, sending me tumbling face-first onto the hard asphalt of the road. Grating my teeth at the pain from my skinned elbows and chin, I hauled myself onto my knees and desperately tried wiping off my tattered skirt. I bit back tears at the realization that no amount of cleaning would get the tar stains out of the pink corduroy, let alone get them out in time for me to make it into the office. As I contemplated whether it would be worse to show up late or show up on time with my outfit and body in tatters, the shouts of other pedestrians finally registered. The various 'get up's and 'look out's was enough to get me to lift my eyes up to see the tires of a truck that had some careening out of nowhere.
"Well, dammit..." I laughed bitterly as I came face to face with the glaring headlights.

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Hello everyone! Thank you for checking out the teaser of my book, Saving the Second Male Lead. This is my passion project, and I've spent a long time planning it out, so I am thankful for every one of you! I hope you liked this first chapter and will continue to read more as I update it!

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