"Tyler, you dumbass bitch fuck, you better get your ass back here before I toast it with my fire bending skills!" I hollered as I chased the boy in question down the street.

"Well, if you want your notebook back, you've gotta catch me first! Or else I might reeaaaddd it!" he yelled behind him as he took off towards my house. We both knew how unfair this was considering he was the fastest kid on this side of the Mississippi.

Or on any side of the Mississippi for that matter.

"Do that and I swear I'll castrate you with a branding iron" He ignored my threat and instead turned around and began running backwards, much to my humiliation, as I still couldn't catch him.

"Is that a threat or a promise? Because either way you wouldn't go through with it. I've read what you write in here and you, my dear, have some explaining to do," he dramatically batted his eyelashes at me and began spouting falsities of what he presumed my notebook would contain in a high-pitched cliché female voice:

'Dear Diary~ Tyler looks sooooo dreamy~, I think we should get married~!'

'Dear Diary~ my mother always told me to follow my dreams, so I think I'll follow Tyler home today~!

Dear Diar-'" I quickly cut him off.

"In your wettest dreams dude." He simply grinned and turned back around to sprint the rest of the way, positively leaving me in the dust.

As we reached the front gate to my house, he turned around and immediately broke out laughing when he saw me lying on my back, panting like I'd just run a marathon.

Which, you know, I basically had.

"Hey don't you laugh at me! Running is fucking difficult, and we can't all be Usain Bolt's metaphorical cousin." When he just started laughing even harder I stepped it up a notch. "I swear I will bitch slap you into a different fanfiction, don't even try me!" I wheezed, out of breath from laughing so hard, as I lunged for the notebook in his hand, which he quickly raised over his head.

"Your words are so hurtful, I don't know if I should give this back," He teased, still dangling my notebook over my head, just out of my reach. And that's a very hard thing to do, given that I'm 5'10" and all. But of course, Tyler the Tyrant had to be 6'3".

Bitch.

As I was bear wrestling him for possession of my baby, the front door of my house opened.

Well, some call it a house… others call it a mansion.

I personally prefer "house;" it seems more normal and a lot less intimidating.

"Kaeden Colleen Hale! Stop that childish rough-housing this instant! Get in here. You have a visitor."

Oh nuggets.

That voice was my father's. Although not much taller than myself, Alexander Hale II (the second goddammit, and don't you forget it) was a force to be reckoned with. Head of the Hale family and its fortune in the field of medical sciences and technologies, my father learned at a very young age what it takes to be the leader of a world-renowned business. He tried to pass his knowledge on to me.

Key word: tried.

It stuck like deep-fried cupcakes to a wet window in August.

A.k.a. it didn't. I'd much rather spend my time screwing around with "commoners" than learning how to be a "proper lady." The only time I would need those skills is for when I have dinner with the goddamn President, Tom Hiddleston, or Jesus.

Which is never going to happen.

And thus, Kaeden Hale determines "proper lady" etiquette not needed for basic daily function.

The high life just seemed so stuffy and boring. Say this, do that, don't piss off this person. So, as most children with overly strict parents do, I went the complete opposite direction in a motion of "fuck you" against my dad. I decided to try my luck at being a "commoner." Needless to say it fits like a glove. I spend my time being a fuck-up with Tyler and the other neighborhood weirdos who lived in the rather plain middle class neighborhood not too far away. All of my multi-millionaire (or *cough* occasional billionaire) neighbors complained about that part of our sub-division because "It lowered their property's value."

No bitch, me spray-painting Miley Cyrus twerking her flat ass on your five-car garage would lower your property's value.

At least it did for Mrs. Carson…

Really, I don't think my father couldn't express his disdain for my "alternate lifestyle" more often than he already did, but I wouldn't put it past him. I mean, the man refused to be called "Jr." and insisted on being called "the second" because it sounded richer.

Jesus tap-dancing Christ father, why?

All aside, in the moment said parental figure rather rudely interrupted our fierce battle of wills, Tyler froze at the sight of the one man that could terrify that egotistical pancake into submission. I always thought it was hilarious considering his usually impish attitude and knee-jerk reactions to being challenged, but there was no playing around, joking, or kidding with my father.

Not now. Not ever.

So in retrospect we can all see what a great childhood I had and the strong bond I formed with him.

Moving on.

I really didn't want to risk sending him on a tyrannical rampage, so I threw Tyler an apologetic look as he handed over my notebook and said my goodbyes. I was surprised my father took the time to physically retrieve me himself rather than send a maid or something (but it's probably because I don't listen to them for shit), and it was then I recalled his earlier words.

"You said I had a visitor?" I inquired skeptically. The last "visitor" I had was a shrink when I was 9 because I had an imaginary friend named Percy and my father feared for my sanity.

In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have told him that Percy's nickname was "orphan crippler" buuuuut…

You know, shit happens.

"Yes I did. Now come inside so you can meet them." My father stated with an odd glint in his eye. I tended to not pay attention to his body language because it was usually unreadable, but I could almost tell what this was. It was...smug. Victorious.

Oh god, I can't wait to meet who's sitting in my living room.

"Is it another shrink?"

"No."

"Is it a fireman?"

"No."

"Is it the 433rd member of the House of Representatives?"

"What? No!"

"Is it the President?"

"I suppose…in a way."

"In what way?"

"Hush Kaeden, you'll met him soon enough. " He smirked as another evil glint appeared in the evil man's evil eye.

I rolled my eyes and groaned.

We stopped in front of the door to our living room, where he turned to me and raked his eyes over my form in distaste at my all-too casual outfit.

"Change it." He ordered.

"No." I answered defiantly.

"Yes." He pushed.

"No." I pushed back. We sat at an impasse, glaring at one another before he threw his hands up in the air in defeat.

"Fine, do what you want, but don't come crying to me when things don't work out." I was elated by my small victory and immediately rocketed back to Earth by his disclaimer. When things don't work out? The fuck? What things? I don't like this one bit…

When we walked in, my still positively fuming father took his seat next to a very official looking middle-aged Japanese man with a dark stern mustache and gotee to match his salt and pepper hair, his glasses resting upon his well-defined nose and high cheek bones.

Helloooooooooo there obvious business partner of my father's whose pristine opinion of this family I just abolished in about 2.4 seconds.

"Yo." I threw up out an instinctive peace sign.

At this rate I think it's safe to say I've already pissed my father off to the point of no return between Tyler and my attire, and this dude probably already thinks I need to be burned at the stake.

"Kaeden… Why don't you… join us?" my father managed to hiss out a semi-normal sounding sentence between aggravated breaths and grinding teeth, but the look he was giving me was nothing short of a death glare.

Oh man, his face was redder than a 5th grader in a Sex Ed class. And it was wonderful.

"Sure." I took a seat across from my father and gave the man a tight-lipped smile, attempted (but probably failing) to appear like I actually gave a dick.

"Kaeden, this is a business partner of mine, CEO of the Ootori Group, Mister Yoshio Ootori. Mister Ootori, this is the daughter I've been telling you about, Kaeden."

Woah.

Woah. Woah. Woah. Woah.

Woah.

Pause.

Rewind.

He's been talking to a business partner about me? Do you know how rare it is for him to even acknowledge the existence of a daughter let alone have a full-blown conversation about me? Damn. He must either think this Ootori guy is dumb, insane, or really, really accepting to be able to tell others about me.

Or, the more likely option, he lied. I wonder what lies I have to live up to? "Perfectly mannered, well groomed, exemplary youth of America?"

Oh god, that sounds like the tagline for the Republican youth association.

"Ah yes, I have heard many great things, Miss Hale." He stated in a slightly dissenting voice, snapping me back into reality. It was with that sentence I concluded, yes, my father lied through his fricken pearly whites. Though, hearing Mister O's disdainful tone, this fact seemed pretty obvious to everyone present.

I decided it was time for a little chaos, as he seemed like a man who wasn't acquainted with its gentle sucker-punch. He asked for it.

I fluently sat in the chair across from him, swept my right leg over my left one, and looked him dead in the eye with the widest grin I could muster. I realize that I probably looked like a Chucky doll but that's fine; creepy is just as good as anything else.

"Ah, yes. I am quite glad that my darling father has given me the opportunity to meet such a high-class businessman such as yourself. Honestly, the variety and quality of the Ootori company's services are quite impressive and I must say that it is an honor to be able to meet the mastermind behind the magic. I am very glad to hear your daughter's engagement is going grandly, and that your three sons are doing fine as well. I do believe that your third son is around my age, though I am sure he has accomplished far more than I. I am sure all of your children will be well fit to run the company in the future, no matter who you choose." I finished my sickly-sweet monologue with another beaming smile that was just fake enough to make you wonder if I was being sarcastic.

What? Did you honestly think I had no idea he was coming today? I mean, gossip spreads like wildfire in the Hale household, especially when your talkative workers like to speak loudly near the pantry you hide in to gorge yourself on cookies.

I just Googled the dude. (Shout out to Larry Page and my homeboi Jesus for Google).

My borderline eidetic memory came in handy here, but I didn't think I'd actually have to recite any of the information I'd found. I mean, I'm clearly not looking to conform here, but the chance to prove this dickwad wrong just once was too great to resist.

I sat back, awaiting a reaction. My father was no longer angry at my previous behavior, or so I hoped, and was simply gaping at me.

Score: 1 for the delinquent; 0 for authori-tah.

Mister Ootori merely raised his eyebrows at my response, but hey, I'll take it. At least it's something.

Before my father could voice his response to my rather elaborate performance, O-man started his own rebuttal.

"Well, someone has done their homework. Yes, I indeed have a son your age, Miss Hale, and in fact, that is what brought me here." He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze away from me and over to the far side of the living room, where I failed to notice the third Ootori son, dick deep in a plain black notebook a bit like mine.

Except mine is covered in graffiti, stickers, doodles and imagination.

But hey, other than that, they're similar.

He looked up from his obviously very intensive brainstorming session to meet my eyes with his onyx ones.

I saluted comically, completely dropping my proper façade. I'd proven my ability to form an intelligent response, and now, I shall live in the land of clusterfuckery.

He simply reached his hand out for a handshake, which I vehemently shook until he decided he'd had enough, at which point he had to forcibly remove his hand from my steel grasp.

"Ha. Yes. It is nice to meet you Miss Hale." He stated with a strained smile that stopped miles short of his eyes as he retracted his hand into the safety of the pocket of his obviously designer slacks.

He was the type of kid who I would specially order a look-a-like Barbie for so he could have a twin just as fake as he is. I would bedazzle that bitch up.

Goddamn fake rhinestones shimmering like your fake ass smile.

I continued onwards with the conversation nonetheless.

"Likewise. …Kyoya?" I asked straining to remember the name of the last son. I didn't think I'd be quizzed that intensely. I figured that once it was made obvious that I was a useless member of this family, they'd just let me leave and be a fuck-up somewhere else. Guess not. Whatever, more fun for me I suppose.

"Yes, you did do your homework it seems. Though I did as well."

"Really now?" I raised an eyebrow challengingly. What did this boring piece of off brand mouthwash know about me?

"Yes." He snapped open his uncreative notebook (at least it wasn't green, because then it would've been even less creative).

Focus, Kaeden.

This dude may or may not have top-secret super classified information on you. Like about that one time in the 3rd grade when you got a "needs improvement" (read: "F") on your report card and you legitimately thought your father was going to kill you, so you and a few of your friends held a funeral for you at recess. They picked flowers and grass and let them blow away in the wind. You cried.

No. Shit. Stop. Focus.

"Kaeden Colleen Hale, 16 years old, born May 20th in Boston, Massachusetts. You moved to San Diego, California when you were 11. Attended a private girls school out of country during your elementary years but you now attend a public high school here in town…" At that his eyes narrowed and he looked over his glasses at my father, almost demanding an explanation.

"Sh-she insisted…" He stammered out, hoping it was enough to pass as an acceptable answer. What a bitch. Kyoya glanced back at me, perhaps surprised that I was able to get my way with such a superpower in the business world.

"What can I say? I'm a manipulative bitch."

"Clearly. As far as relationships go you surround yourself with people, but the only true connection you hold is with Tyler Alvarado, your best friend." He looked at me with a mockery of pity on his face, as if to say 'aren't you pathetic?'

I snorted.

"Like you're one to talk. I'm about 300% sure the only relationships you have are professional ones. Are you even capable of human emotion?" I retorted. He glared at me but made no move to address my outburst.

"You have been diagnosed with asthma and are allergic to penicillin and walnuts, you struggle in English but excel in math and science, and you have a short criminal record but a long list of transgressions against the local neighborhood patrol. Your father has remarried twice, but has just recently divorced his third wife. You are currently the only heir to the family title, but it really doesn't seem like you're going to do much with it if you do receive your inheritance."

"Oh so you wanna talk about inheritances do you? Or maybe your lack of one?" Sweet burn Kaeden.

He glared at me and went to continue with more details for this little Discovery Channel documentary, but I decided that I'd had enough.

"O-kayy. I think we're done with that little fact session. Thank you for that, bud." Okay. So maybe he did do his homework.

At least he didn't mention any self-held funerals from when I was 10.

That's a plus.

"You're good though. Would you like me to give you a gold star for your achievements… you know… because no one else does?" Yeah I'm sure he's never heard that one before.

But seriously, if there's one thing I've learned about rich people it's that if you're not the first-born and a male, you really don't matter. I hoped that I had offended him enough for this conversation to be over soon.

He kept his mouth stretched into a thin line and continued glaring at me.

"Kaeden." My father warned, concernedly glancing in Mister Ootori's direction. The man looked quite amused. Like he was watching a goddamn tennis match, or something.

"Feisty one you've got there," he commented. I still had no idea why my father insisted I meet them. Unless he wanted all relations with this family to be utterly annihilated, what was the point of including me?

Kyoya cleared his throat, seeming to have recovered from my earlier insult.

"Let me reintroduce myself." Kyoya stuck out his hand again, which I decided to actually take like a civilized human being to balance out my dumbassery of the day. He bent to kiss the top of my hand like we were in the Victorian Era or some shit before saying,

"I am Kyoya Ootori…your fiancé."