Saving the Second Male Lead

Chapter Fifteen

Oliver turned back around, trying to get June's concerned look out of his mind. He couldn't blame her; he knew he'd have been terrified if the roles were reversed. Still, a little vote of confidence from her would've been nice.

"Get into position," Lawrence shouted from the sidelines, his excitement evident. Oliver quickly glanced over to Lawrence, hoping to get a bit of reassurance from his supposed best friend. All he got was a grin that told him Lawrence was here solely for the entertainment of watching Oliver get his ass kicked. Perfect.

Oliver scowled as he took up a defensive stance, now ten times more motivated to win than before. He took a deep breath and focused in on Ryelin. With a wide, grounded stance, it appeared as if Ryelin was going to start on the defensive, too. But the slight upward angle of his sword had Oliver shifting his weight to the front of his feet, ready to dodge the opening swing that Ryelin was trying so hard to hide.

Lawrence called for the match to start, and just as Oliver had expected, Ryelin made a sharp change to his stance, followed by a swift, upward slice. Much to Ryelin's surprise and annoyance, Oliver managed not only to dodge the swing but counter it, too.

"I'll take it that you're not used to people catching that move of yours?" Oliver taunted as he reset his stance.

"You might just be the first," Ryelin responded with a tinge of frustration.

"You must be practicing with the blind, then. The angle of your sword makes it so obvious."

Irritated, Ryelin gritted his teeth and made a rash move that Oliver once again blocked. Ryelin's futile attacks continued on for a minute, then two, then ten, each one being parried by Oliver. Muscles ached, and feet dragged as the match passed the ten-minute mark, Ryelin visibly more exhausted than his opponent. Trying to wrap things up before he ran out of energy, Ryelin's offense had grown sloppy and brazen. His fatigue and desperation were evident, and Oliver prepared to take full advantage of that. As Ryelin took his next swing, Oliver dodged but made a misstep. His footing slipped, and he was knocked to one knee. Ryelin saw what he thought to be a perfect opening and confidently smiled.

Though Oliver was out of breath, he played up his exhaustion by feigning being unable to get up. He made sure that Ryelin watched as he pretended to struggle, even raising his head. Down on one knee, he looked up frantically as Ryelin walked forward. With a nonchalant stride and lazy grin, Ryelin was sure he'd come out victorious and was savoring his assumed glory. There wasn't an ounce of doubt in his expression as he dug his heel into Oliver's sword, shifting his weight to press it into the dirt. And that casual act of boasting was his biggest mistake.

Ryelin went to raise his sword to declare his win but froze when he saw Oliver's smirk. Before Ryelin even had a chance to question the expression, Oliver ripped the sword from beneath his foot and knocked him off balance. In one swift motion, Oliver jumped up and swept Ryelin's feet out from under him.

As the dust settled, the final winner became clear. Ryelin was on his back, with the point of Oliver's sword pointed directly at his chest while his own was far from reach.

"You were never scared, were you?" Ryelin asked,

"Not for a second," Oliver said, reaching his hand out to help Ryelin up. With a defeated shake of his head, Ryelin took Oliver's hand and got to his feet. Ryelin stalked back to his friends, more than just his pride bruised, while Oliver walked over to gloat at Lawrence.

"You survived," Lawrence said with a laugh as he clasped Oliver's hand in congratulations. "That was a pretty slight stunt you pulled there."

"I couldn't have done it without your... resounding support."