Page 40 of The Underachiever’s Guide to Love and Saving the World

A second later, Harold the herald ran through a points system I didn’t understand, the trumpet blasted again, and I jolted once more, armor rattling.

A servant shoved me forward, and I stumbled into the arena.

Courtney limped into the other side of the ring carrying a shield and sword.

Her gaze was heavy, like she was a battle-worn warrior instead of a woman whose exhaustion stemmed from missing a singular meal and enduring one sleepless night.

“I forfeit.” Courtney stabbed her sword into the ground, stepped back, and crossed her arms.

The crowd fell silent. Amy wheezed. The king looked perplexed—more than usual.

“You can’t quit, Lady Courtney,” the herald said under his breath.

“Why, though?”

“There are no records of a Chosen One ever having quit before,” the herald said. “They’ve come close, to be sure, but the power within always rejuvenated their broken spirits, and they persevered.”

In the bleachers, Amy stood and drew in a large lungful of air like he was about to deliver a three-part presentation over all the reasons Courtney couldn’t quit.

“Fine, fine.” Rolling her eyes, Courtney faced me and spread her arms. “Attack me. Let’s get this over with.”

I took a few steps toward her. Murmurs spread through the crowd. Amy sank back into his seat, momentarily satisfied. I kept expecting to hear screams of fear rise from the city as the skeleton army breached the wall, or for the shadow of the dragon to drop across us.

My eye caught on something as it moved beneath the bleacher nearest to me.

It was Courtney’s sidekick, the mouse, Greg, hiding behind someone’s tankard of beer.

He obviously couldn’t tell how spooked Courtney and I were, because his whiskers twitched as he caught my eye, and his tiny mouth curled into a smile.

If only he knew what happened on our trip, he wouldn’t be so happy about seeing us again.

Forcing myself to focus on getting through the task before me, I tried to lift my blade. Unbidden, pictures flashed in my head—Courtney’s wide, shining eyes, full of shock and pain. The pure terror twisting my gut when the skeletal hand grabbed her ankle.

“I can’t,” I said, realizing it was true. My arm refused to lift the sword. I couldn’t hurt her. Physically could not . I had mental erectile dysfunction. Instead of being unable to use my dick, I was incapable of being a dick.

Courtney huffed, yanking her sword from the ground. “Then call it self-defense, if it makes you feel better.”

She lunged, and I jumped back, barely managing to parry. She attacked again, her blade a flashing flurry of steel that I barely batted away. Relentless blow after relentless blow rained down upon me.

Our blades locked, and she stepped in close. “What are you waiting for?” she growled, nose inches from mine. “Fight back.”

“What if I hurt you?” Courtney gave me a disbelieving look, so I added, “I mean if you’re hurt, you’ll be a worthless sidekick if I need you to pull a Samwise and carry me up a volcano.”

“Unbelievable.” She pressed her sword harder against mine. “You’ve gotten soft.”

“No.” The muscles in my arm trembled. Not because they were particularly fatigued from holding her off me, but because they didn’t want to hold her off me .

“What did it? My pebbly, pebbly nipples?”

“Shut up.” I scoffed, trying to sound dismissive.

She pushed away, our blades separating with a metallic shink .

Realizing she was right and we needed to end this, I tossed my sword aside and strode purposefully toward her.

Lowering my shoulder, I aimed low and charged.

At the last second, I eased back my speed, so my shoulder lightly tapped her hip.

She looked down at where I stood, my shoulder stuck to her hip. “Literally, what are you doing?”

“I’m letting you let me beat you,” I said into her waist. “Go with it.” She shifted, and her chain mail smashed against my mouth. Spluttering, I tried to maintain my grip. “I’m tackling you.”

“I’m quaking.”

“You’re kinda supposed to fall now.” I grunted. “So if you could cooperate, that would be great.”

“Yes, I’m sure you fondling me is convincing the city of battle-hardened warriors this is a legitimate fight.” But she stiffly bent her knees, and we began jointly lowering ourselves to the ground.

It was the slowest tackle in the history of the world. Hardly even a tackle—more like two fragile old people helping each other to bed. Our feet shuffled as we negotiated our landing.

I adjusted my hold halfway down and caught a glimpse of her blank face. “Would it kill you to look scared or angry or something ?”

“I’m trying not to laugh during my devastating defeat. How’s this?” She opened her mouth and widened her very dead eyes.

I staggered as my bent knees threatened to collapse. “Worse. Much, much worse.”

In the bleachers, the crowd grew restless, denied their display of graphic violence.

“Watch your sword,” I said.

“ My sword? Watch your knee.” She grimaced. “Maybe if you put your hand here, and my foot there. Yes. Like that.”

With a mighty creak of armor, we made an awkward landing. Off balance, I half fell over her.

“You okay?”

Courtney gave me a look. “Are you even trying to make this believable?”

She had a point. I straddled her hips, pinning her limp arms over her head. “I have bested you, foul cur,” I announced to the crowd.

“What’s a cur?” Courtney wanted to know.

“No idea. Could you scooch like a foot to your left so I can reach my sword?”

“Sure thing.”

We inched ourselves across the arena. Each scuff of our bodies over the dirt was amplified in the dead silence of the crowd.

“Little more. There.” I stretched and grabbed the sword, then returned to my position and held the blade over her.

Her eyes sparkled up at me, full of mirth, despite all the trouble we’d been through and all the impossible tasks still before us.

I wanted to kiss her.

It was the simple truth, and to deny the feeling would be like denying the sky was blue or the ocean was deep.

I wanted to feel her annoying smirk against my mouth and figure out her stupid laces once and for all, then let her lock her disgusting feet around my hips and forget everything else for a while.

A trumpet wailed, snapping me out of my fixation. With much confusion, the herald declared me the winner. Shaking myself, I stood and helped Courtney to her feet, brushing dirt off her back, then drawing away when my fingers wanted to linger.

I should have grabbed her right there, told her what I wanted, asked her if she wanted it too. Instead, I let her go, telling myself, Later . There would be time for kissing later. But, since there was an undead army on the loose, I had no idea if that was true.

“Psst,” a tiny voice whispered.

I turned to find Greg gesturing me closer from his hiding place. Inconspicuously, Courtney and I sidled closer. “What is it?” I asked. “Did something happen last night while we were gone?”

“No,” Greg said. “I was curious if your dinner was to your liking? Both of you look so weary, I was worried you did not receive proper nourishment.”

Courtney and I exchanged a look. Greg was so eager to please, I didn’t want to tell him that the meal he’d so thoughtfully packed had led to a crisis, so I only nodded and said, “Oh yeah, it was great. We really appreciate your help, dude.”

“Have you heard anything more about the general?” Courtney asked. “Has she been found?”

Somberly, Greg shook his head.

Amy called for us then, so Courtney gave him a quick “We’ll catch up with you later,” before turning and muttering to me.

“I’ll let you win this one as quickly as possible, too, so we won’t even have to waste our time with whatever the third challenge is, then we’ll figure out a way to talk Amy into increasing security. ”

We were taken to a large amphitheater down by the beach, the crowd following after us. Crashing waves drowned out the noise from the multitude seating themselves in the circular gallery.

Amy led us into the basin of the theater, where he instructed us to stand facing each other. “Defeat your opponent using magic alone,” he said, tucking his hands into his sleeves and backing away.

Well, there went our plan to get through the tournament fast. We’d be here until one of us starved to death. There wasn’t anything Courtney could do to let me win this one.

Unless there was something she could do.

When I’d called Courtney on her sex dream bluff, I’d told her all we needed was physical attraction to bring our magic to life.

Magically speaking, physical attraction had gotten us nowhere.

Maybe we needed to allow an emotional connection.

I’d felt one forming that night we baked the tarts at Mama’s house and in the sacred field, but we were both still resisting.

Courtney had always been as adamant about hating me as I was about hating her, but I needed her to sympathize with me for one minute.

“I had a rough childhood,” I said, low enough no one could hear it over the waves. “Remember when I told you I wanted to be a slug when I was a kid?”

“Yeah.” The ocean breeze lifted her hair off her neck, whipping it around her face.

“I was nine. My mom had me young, and all I heard my whole life was how she had to sacrifice everything for me. And I get it. I do. But what nine-year-old wants to hear how their existence crushed their mother’s dreams?”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that.” Courtney’s eyes darted like she was searching for an escape.

“Oh no, she did,” I said, hands sinking into my pockets.

Finding the pebble. Clenching it. “One day, she took me to my grandparents’ house and told me to wait out on the porch.

I sat on the step and listened as their voices rose until I heard her yell, ‘Raising him is ruining my life, and I can’t do it anymore!

’ I didn’t look up when the back door slammed, not when her car fired up, and not when she pulled away without me.

I watched the slugs on the driveway instead, and I wished I were one.

All slugs cared about was avoiding salt and eating fungus. A slug wouldn’t hurt like I did.”