The host club's worst nightmare
There were three things I learned on my first day at Ouran Academy.
First, rich people had entirely too much free time.
Second, the school uniform cost more than everything in my wardrobe combined.
And third—
Kyoya Ootori was going to be the death of me.
I didn't know that last part when I walked through the academy gates that morning.
At the time, I was simply trying not to look like a complete outsider.
Ouran Academy was beautiful in a way that felt almost ridiculous. The buildings looked like they belonged in a palace, the gardens were perfectly trimmed, and every student seemed to walk around as though they had been born knowing exactly where they belonged.
I tightened my grip on my bag.
I didn't belong here.
But I had my reasons for coming.
And nobody was going to find out what they were.
"You're the new scholarship student."
I stopped.
A tall boy with black hair and glasses stood behind me.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
"That's what the paperwork says," I replied.
His eyes moved over me briefly.
"My name is Kyoya Ootori."
"I didn't ask."
For the first time, his expression changed.
Barely.
One eyebrow lifted.
"You have an interesting personality."
"And you have an annoying face."
Silence.
I immediately regretted saying it.
Not because I was sorry.
Because the faint smile appearing on his lips made me nervous.
"Interesting," he repeated.
Then he walked past me.
I watched him disappear down the hallway.
What an arrogant jerk.
I should have known that would be the first and last time I would see him.
Unfortunately, I was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
---
By lunch, I was lost.
Completely lost.
I had somehow ended up in the old music building, staring at a pair of enormous wooden doors.
There was a handwritten sign hanging from one of them.
HOST CLUB
I stared at it.
"Absolutely not."
I turned around.
The door opened behind me.
"Welcome!"
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
A blond boy stood in the doorway, smiling brightly.
Behind him were several other boys.
One was tall and quiet.
Two looked almost identical.
Another was small and adorable.
And sitting behind a desk—
Kyoya.
His eyes met mine.
His smile was immediate.
"Oh," he said. "This should be interesting."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Don't."
"I haven't said anything."
"You were about to."
He adjusted his glasses.
"You're quite perceptive."
"Unfortunately."
The blond boy stepped between us.
"Kyoya! Don't scare our newest guest!"
"I'm not a guest."
"Even better!" He grabbed my wrist.
I stared at his hand.
Then at him.
Then back at his hand.
"Let go."
He froze.
"Of course!"
He released me immediately.
I relaxed.
At least one person in this room understood boundaries.
Kyoya, however, was watching me carefully.
Almost as if he was trying to figure me out.
That annoyed me more than anything.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing."
"Then stop staring."
His lips curved into a small smile.
"I was simply wondering what kind of person would walk into a Host Club and insult its members within five minutes."
I crossed my arms.
"The kind who doesn't care how rich they are."
The room went silent.
The blond boy looked shocked.
The twins looked entertained.
Kyoya?
He laughed.
Quietly.
And somehow, that was worse.
Because for the first time, I wondered if maybe—
just maybe—
I had finally met someone who could actually keep up with me.
I hated that thought.
I hated him.
At least, that's what I told myself.
I had no idea that months later, his name would be the one person I couldn't stop thinking about.
