You and Leo were always competing. You were rivals in everything, the whole camp knew it, and they loved being spectators in the tournament that seemed to be each one of your interactions. Every time you made it first on the weekly archery board, he managed to get more bulls eyes. Each time he made a new invention, you found a way to improve it. It infuriated him, and it drove him, like some kind of weird paradox.

Today was nothing new. The two of you were challenging each other once again, this time at sword fighting. Seeing your name on the scoreboard above his was enraging. So here you were, swords at the ready in the small training arena, with at least a dozen campers watching off to the side.

The bet was the same as always. Loser has to do whatever the winner wants later. Later, a part of your relationship with him that the rest of the camp knew nothing about. That was the benefit of having someone like him. You could be fighting one minute and… doing other things behind the weapons shed the next minute.

Leo approached you, his usual impish grin plastered on his face, “You’re going down.”