Surprises

"Why not get married."

From his lips it's nonchalant, a proposal of a good move-as if suggesting the best location to slide the bishop in a chess game. She gapes at him, open mouthed and wide eyed. It's been two years since they finished university-six since attending Ouran. She's not as naive. She's toned down her obsessions and her outfits. Still, his voice-his hair, eyes, lips, smell, posture-sends her heart into a frenzy.

They stand on a balcony, taking a break from the ballroom. It's the fifth aristocratic party they've visited this month together. It has become a tacit routine: arrive, make pleasant introductions with the neccessary people, and find the staircase closest to the door to stand at in wait of the other. They join each other there and sip some champagne together, speak of people they know in common without the pressure of aristocratic asskissing. Perhaps dance a song. More introductions, name dropping. They were a team: "Ah, and have you met Renge Houshakuji?..."

Now, her knees wobble and she leans against the balcony railing, green silk dress shimmering with her sudden move.

"What," she hisses.

He turns his head away. She can't even see his glasses anymore, much less his eyes.

"You heard, Renge." The indifference in his voice strikes a spark of anger in her chest. Part of her heart screams in joy and the other is hurt beyond comprehension.

"Why would you say it like that," she blurts, hot angry tears glimmering in her eyes. "Are you serious? Why?"

He takes a sip of his champagne.

"Why not? We're good partners. It would be the best choice for both of us, if you think about it. Isn't it quite clearly logical?"

"Logical," she croaks. Her head is tilted up,dangerously, her eyebrows taut. "Love isn't logical, Kyoya," she spits, voice breaking, and turns to leave. "That's what I want. You know what I want."

"Renge. Before you go." Something in his voice stops her. She turns and looks at him, not masking her anger, her hurt, or her longing. She's determined not to wear a mask the way he does. His arms are folded. He won't meet her eyes. He clears his throat. "Wear that shade of green again next time. It suits you." His voice is brusque and gruff.

She looks at him quizzically, something fluttering in her throat. "Wh.. You're infuriating."

His irritation displays itself between his eyebrows, and she savors it. Pride rises in her that she's able to do anything to his facade.

"Why don't you ever say what you mean?"

He uncrosses his arms and picks up his champagne. "But it does suit you."

She sighs. "Then take me somewhere. This weekend."

"I'll pick you up at six on Saturday." Matter of fact,curt words that bring her happiness.

"Where will we go?"

"Don't you like surprises, Renge?" His voice is tinged with teasing. She loves it. Also, he knows her. A tear rolls down her cheek despite her change in mood.

"Yes," she whispers. "I do. Like them."

His smile is triumphant like usual but this time full of relief.