Saving the Second Male Lead

Chapter Fourteen

        "Hello, Lord Ryelin," I said flatly, not exactly trying hard to hide my disappointment. I'd hoped the conference would keep him busy enough to drop whatever interest he had in me, but as he strode into the reading room, I knew I wouldn't be that lucky.

I watched as he eyed the empty spot next to me, and I immediately made a show of placing the book right where his eyes had landed. It probably wasn't the most discrete move, but he took the hint with grace and sat in the chair across from me.

"Please, you don't need to be so formal with me, June," he drawled my name, getting a little too comfortable in the chair.

"My apologies. I am not accustomed to addressing you in such a way. I will try to adjust to it as quickly as possible," I said, taking a page out of Ryia's book. I figured her response was more curated than anything I'd come up with. She'd perfected her language years ago, while I'd barely begun picking up on the proper etiquette. If I wanted to get this man off my back, I'd need to be as formal and impersonal as possible.

"No worries there. I just hope you get accustomed to it soon."

"I'll try my best," I said, following with a forced laugh that quickly died off into uncomfortable silence. I quietly toyed with my dress, in no hurry to start any conversation. I should've been more dismissive of him the night we met; the fleeting entertainment was becoming less and less worth it.

"So, what have you been up to?"

I looked at the book next to me, then back at him. "Just Reading." I figured that if possums could play dead to get rid of predators, I could act dry and get rid of him the same way. I just needed him to leave before–

"Oh, what book?"

My head instinctively turned towards the sound of his voice. Oliver was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest. He'd changed into a loose, cream linen shirt and his hair was especially messy. I'd never seen him dressed so casually before, but then again, I hadn't seen him that many times. This couldn't have been more than the fifth, maybe sixth, time we'd met. And yet, here I was, smiling at him as if I'd known him for ages as soon as I saw him again.

"Something drama novel, I think..."

"I think I've read that one. So good, really loved the whole dramatic part," he said, pushing off the door frame. He and Ryelin looked at each other, and to my bewilderment, they greeted each other with a nod.

"Are you going to show up tomorrow morning?" Oliver asked Ryelin as he crossed the room. When had, no, how had the two of them met, let alone become friendly? I couldn't complain; at least now there was someone else to occupy Ryelin's attention.

"If the crown prince is showing up, then I need to be there myself," Ryelin responded enthusiastically, "I've been waiting to see if he is as talented as everyone says or if his cousin finally has him beat," Ryelin leaned forward, his dark eyes drifting back to me, "I do hope you're coming to watch. Your presence would be some great motivation for me. I couldn't possibly lose with a girl like you there."

Oliver's demeanor immediately shifted as I chuckled uncomfortably, ignoring the later part of Ryelin's answer. Oliver quickly moved behind the couch, rested his arms on its back, and leaned in next to me. I bit my cheek, swearing to myself that Ryia would never know that she was right. If I ever let it slip that Oliver was acting like this, I'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm glad to hear it," Oliver said. His words had been friendly, but there was a bite in his voice directed at Ryelin's advances. Ryelin's eyes passed through me, which I assumed meant that he and Oliver were engaged in a very intense stare-off. I turned my head up and waited patiently until Oliver finally broke off their eye contact and looked down at me.