Alright, so here's the next chapter! I'm going to dedicate this chapter to three more people who added my story to their watch list. Thanks so much to Artemis' hunters, radioactivepenguin13, and FireFlies Twinkle for adding this to your watch list! I'm glad you're interested enough to want to read more, so I hope I don't disappoint you!

I'm not going to go on and say 'I won't update until I have X number of reviews' because that's SO annoying. However, I will say if you like what you see, let me know if there's something you'd like more of or if there's something I need to work on. A little comment or criticism doesn't hurt! I can't improve this for you without feedback. But you certainly don't have to.

So I had a blast writing this. Getting Maria to admit her feelings is hard, but Kyoya's good at it. You'll see what I mean when you read this chapter and the next few as well. They get close fast, that's all I have to say about it. I hope you enjoy it! :3


The next morning, I walk into class wearing another set of sweatpants—purple and gold with the LSU logo on it—and an all black T-shirt. My signature pair of walking tennis shoes, adorned with many splattering colors of paint and mud, are on my feet. My hair is pulled up into a hair clip, nothing unusual. I sit down and pull out my books, opening them and reading them over because of the quiz in Trig. Honestly, I never thought math homework here would be so much different.

It makes what I did in high school in America look like a cakewalk, if that puts it in perspective.

"Well, if it isn't our darling princess! I didn't know you were in our class, Mari-chan!" I glare up at the blond idiot standing next to my desk.
"If I remember correctly, the only one I gave permission to use that nickname was Honey-sempai. I didn't say it was okay for you to use it. And I did mention which class I was in yesterday." I grind out through my teeth, he's a little wary, but other than that, plows forward unabashed.
"Oh, come now, Mari-chan! It's such a cute name, and for such a beautiful girl, I—"
"Tamaki, I think she's made it quite clear she doesn't approve the nickname. I suggest not angering her any further, hm?" I then glare even more at the tall boy on the other side of the desk next to me. This guy pissed me off last night—though in reality, it was all in my head—and I'm not in the mood to socialize with him. For some reason, something about him makes me want to just punch him, and though I overreacted last night, it's the perfect catalyst for my convenient dislike.

Yes, I am a bitch, and for the record, I don't care if I am. He pissed me off. Enough said.

"It seems you are still sour. Not enough sleep, McMillan?" He asked me, his deep gray-purple eyes staring me down with a small smirk on his face. I turn away from him and instead ignore him. I don't want to look at him, I don't want to listen to him, I just want him to go away.

As to when I'll forgive him, probably soon, but for now, I don't want to. Irrational as that is, I don't care. I don't feel like bending my pride that much yet. I know humility, don't get me wrong, but that doesn't mean I like it either.

Suddenly, the tinkling sound of the intercom came up, and I turned to the speaker across the room from me.

"Miss Maria McMillan, please report to the front of the art hallway. Please bring your belongings with you." I smirk, standing.
"Seems I'm getting kicked out after all. Yay me. Oh, Tamaki? I might not be in the host club for a couple of weeks. I've got a huge project ahead of me and I have to get it done. So don't expect me at the club or anything. Just thought I should warn you ahead of time." I said, gathering my things to leave. Tamaki gave me a little pouting face, then moved closely to me, taking my hand.
"Then, my dear princess, I look forward to the future days where my eyes may once again cleanse themselves at the sight of your beauty. Au revoir, my darling." He said, and placed a kiss on my knuckles. I rolled my eyes and walked away.
"Whatever. See you later." I said, and though I was aloof, I must say that I do enjoy the attention from Tamaki.

Don't get me wrong, I am not attracted to the idiot. But no one's paid that kind of attention to me in quite some time and meant nothing by it. He's just teasing and flirting kindly. Different from what I'm used to. And I kind of like it, as much as I pretend not to care.


"That girl's not here today, Kaoru. I wonder where she went...showing up one day and then suddenly not."
"I don't know, Hikaru, but I kind of liked her. I hope she's not gone for good. She'd be so much fun to mess with."

The twins sighed as they got ready for the afternoon's activities. Honey-sempai was sitting in a chair eating some cake with Mori-sempai by his side.

"Takashi, do you think Mari-chan is going to be here today? I wanted to invite her to eat cake with me today..." The taller, more stoic man shook his head.
"She's painting the art hall, Mitsukuni." He said simply. The young-looking host merely pouted.
"Oh...so she won't be here for a long time then. That's sad...I wanted to share some of my lemon cake with her...she'll be back later, won't she Takashi?"
"Yeah."

Going about their business, Honey and Mori-sempai both got ready to receive their first guests. Haruhi was finishing with some commoner's coffee—as Tamaki had now dubbed it—when she noticed the absence of the American girl.

"I wonder where she is..." She thought aloud, having grown fond of the girl. As abrasive and off-putting as she could be, Haruhi knew that what lay beneath the tough layers around Maria was something very beautiful. She couldn't wait to talk with the older girl some more and get to know her better. Watching the shell fall apart here in the host club would certainly be a treat, because if there was anyone who could do such a feat, it was these idiots in the host club.
"She's in charge of the redecorating and renovation of the art entrance hall, Haruhi. She's painting murals on the walls of some of the landscapes on the school grounds. It seems the president was so impressed with her work that he personally requested she be the one to paint and design it. She's even getting a large reduction in her tuition costs for it. A contribution bonus, if you will." Haruhi smiled.
"That's not why she's doing it, though. She loves to paint. You obviously didn't watch her close enough when she was painting, Kyoya-sempai. You didn't see the love in every stroke of her brush. It was breathtaking to watch...I wonder what it's like to love something so much that one simple little thing makes you happier than anything else." Kyoya, intrigued by Haruhi's answer, went about his business and joined his 'King'.

"Are you sure our princess is alright, Kyoya? I'm worried about her." Kyoya chuckled at his best friend.
"Don't be, Tamaki. She's just painting the art hall. She's not skydiving."
"But they have her hooked up in that harness thing...and they left her all alone...I'm scared! What if she gets hurt and breaks her arm and can never paint again? What if she falls and breaks her neck and is a vegetable for the rest of her life? What if she—"
"Tamaki, your fears are irrational. As abrasive and uncouth as she is, Maria is capable of taking care of herself. She's very intelligent—she's in our class after all. Quite the opposite of her demeanor and personality, certainly. She'll be fine. She knows how to operate the lift, and there are staff constantly going to and from the hall to check on her." This consolation did little to make Tamaki feel better. Nevertheless, he had guests to attend to while Kyoya did some product promotion and number crunching.


"I hate wall paint...shit doesn't like to do what I want it to...damn stupid textured sheet-rock...I hate you all..." I grumble under my breath as I continue my mural. It's been three days since I started this stupid project and I'm only half done. If it weren't for the fact these walls are terrible and hard to work with, I wouldn't mind. It's a prestigious school—can't it be made with some kind of magically wonderful material that loves to be painted?

I pull on one of the ropes that operates the harness that brings me up twenty feet in the air. I drop slowly to the ground and unhook myself, crawling from the harness. I take a small break—I'm hardly done for the day—and then go back up into the air and continue my work. I get lost in it and don't even notice that the sun goes down until I hear someone clear their throat behind me and I glance outside. I look down at the ground, and seeing who it is, glare and turn back to my work.

"McMillan, don't you think you've been up there long enough? It's past seven...you should be heading home." I ignore him. I have to ignore him. Otherwise I'll apologize and look all stupid and humiliated and embarrassed.
"...You can go on pretending that you're ignoring me, but your anger at me is irrational. I may not know you very well, but I know well enough that you also know the irrationality of your own feelings." He continues, and I sigh as I finish yet another freaking flower bush.

I swear, I've painted enough of them to last a lifetime.

I drop down, crawl out of the harness, then stand and pop my back. I have to use the already dry wall to sturdy myself so that I don't fall down. I'm covered from head to toe in paint—no surprise there—and hungry and tired. I want to go home, take a long hot shower, eat some hot food, and go to bed. I'm beat and my arms hurt. But I'm two thirds of the way done. For that much to be accomplished by the end of the fourth day is amazing to me. Tomorrow is Friday, and I have a feeling I'll be working through the weekend since the president wants it done by Monday. He says that an open house is on Monday and he wants it ready for the masses to see.

I'm not looking forward to the overtime.

"If I may be so blunt, McMillan, you don't look like you've seen a good day in a while."
"You try living away from home for the first time in your life, in some far away foreign country, with weird and nasty rich bastards all around you, and having to have it rubbed in your face every day that you're less than everyone else because your mama and papa don't have dinero spilling out of their earholes." I say spitefully, my exhaustion and frustration coming out in all of the wrong ways. I don't care, I'm tired, hungry, pissed off and overworked.
"If you hate it so much here, why did you come in the first place?" I know it's a legitimate question, and I don't blame him for asking me about it. I just don't like the answer...it tastes a little bad even if it's true.
"...I hate it even more at home. Anywhere is better than there." I mutter softly, grimacing as the words leave my mouth.

He doesn't speak, for which I'm glad, as I clean up what little there is for me to clean. The janitors did most of it, but I have a little trash here and there as well as my things to take home. As I turn toward the door, I see him standing there, his face passive.

"So tell me, why are you here so late?" He shrugs as I start out of the door.
"It's simple. I do the inventory on a regular basis—every Monday and Thursday—and it took me a little longer today than normal. I was surprised to see you still working so late." I sigh heavily as my feet drag along next to His Royal Highness.

Note the sarcasm.

"I have to have it done by Monday for the open house that day. It's a day to promote the school and they want to start promoting art more now that I'm here. So they decided to hire me to paint the room, and in turn my costs for tuition will be reduced without my awards being reduced. I'll have some extra money to send to my family." I say, though I don't honestly know why. I'm sure he was already well aware of what I was doing. He seems like the type who always knows.
"So is that where you send your extra money? To your family?" I nod, starting toward the gate. Next thing I know, there's a hand on my shoulder. I stop and turn to face him, nudging his hand off of my shoulder.

"What?" I snap. He sighs.
"Are you going to continue to stay mad at me? If you don't want to answer my questions, you simply have to say so." I sigh, shaking my head.
"It's not that, I'm just wondering why you're so freakin' interested in me. I ain't nothin' special, get it? I mean, come on dude, get real! I'm from America, in no particular place—I have no friends, no life, and I waste my time on Japanese media, the arts, and schoolwork. What more do you want to know? I'm not that interesting and I don't intend to change anytime soon." He shakes his head.
"That's not true, considering how you want to keep others at a distance. You don't seem particularly fond of anyone, though you lean more toward those who aren't rich. Do you really hate the wealthy that much? This place isn't where you belong if that's the case. You'll be ostracized before too long." I shrug my shoulders.
"I am already, so what does it matter? I can't afford a uniform—not that I want to wear that God-awful thing anyway—and I'm an artist. I'm eccentric. I have a horrible sense of humor and I'm abrasively sarcastic. No one's ever wanted to be around me, so why does that have to change? I'm perfectly fine all by myself." And with that, I start to walk away. But then he says something that stops me in my shoes.

"It sounds to me like you don't want it to be that way...that you want to change it. So why don't you?"

"...Because no matter how much I talk to you, Kyoya, you'd never understand. You've never been there...half the things I tell you wouldn't make sense to someone who's never known what it's like to never have a life of privilege, to live day to day, paycheck to paycheck, wondering if you'll be able to eat that week. So it doesn't matter if I want to or not...it's that there is nothing for me here. My art will get better, my academics will improve, and I'll move onto a better life because I don't want to be stuck at home anymore." I say, trying not to cry. Why am I getting emotional over this? I've never felt this way before...and why the hell am I telling this jerk-off about it?
"If someone wanted to give you a chance, would you take it?" I turn around, looking at him with one eyebrow cocked.
"What the hell does that mean?" I ask him.
"Tamaki is clearly giving you an opening to come and join us, even if you aren't a club member. He wants to include you...something about you has sparked his interest. And as his best friend and vice president of the host club, I can't simply let you walk away. He's giving you the chance to have a better life, with more people in your life and more opportunities for something other than a life of solitude. Will you take it or will you turn your back?"

This surprises me. Tamaki wants me there?

"What about you? From the moment we met, we haven't exactly been friendly."
"That can change over time, I'm sure. Once you've been cultivated, I'm confident that your attitude will change proportionally to the amount of growth you manage to obtain. I might actually even consider you as a friend if that ever happens." I smirk at this. He's teasing, I'm sure, but it's still amusing to me.
"And what about everyone else in the club?"
"They've been waiting for you to come back. Your first impressions leave a heavy mark on many people. They miss you even if you've only been there a day. I think you'll find their welcome very warm indeed." I start to laugh at this. Then, it breaks out into a full blown cackle. I'm laughing so hard I can't breathe.

"You're really trying, aren't you? It shows. It's so funny! Holy shit, I can't breathe..." I say, clutching my sides. I stand up straight and wipe the tears from my eyes. I look back at him, and there's a smirk on his face.
"Are you done?" I smile at him, beaming from ear to ear. I suddenly feel a lot better...probably from the simple fact that he doesn't really hate me after all, I was simply being irrational in the beginning.

Maybe accepting rich people into my life won't be so bad after all.

"...Kyoya?" His gaze doesn't shift from me, so I continue after a beat of pause.
"Thanks. I needed that...I've needed it since I got here, actually. So thanks...for everything. Tell everyone I'll be back on Monday." He nods, and I turn to go again.
"So, do you want a ride home or not? You may be resilient, but you aren't invincible." I turn and smirk at him.
"I thought I told you I don't take favors from rich people." He returns my smirk with a sly one of his own that looks just so evil, pushing up his glasses.
"This isn't a favor from a 'rich person', but from a classmate...and a friend." He says, and for a moment my heart skips a beat.

Friend...it's a world I haven't heard in quite some time. It has a good ring to it. I really like it.

"I may get your designer leather seats covered in paint. Still want to give me a ride?" He extends his hand.
"If you're going to cover them in paint, then I assure you that I don't mind giving you a lift. After all, what better way to aggravate my father?" I laugh and walk forward, ignoring the hand. I don't believe for a moment that he's actually serious about taking my hand and helping me into the car. As I get in, however, I manage to hit my head on the frame of the door.
"Ow ow ow ow ow! That really hurt...dammit..." I hold my head as he slides in next to me, trying to blink back tears of pain. He chuckles and I glare at him, pouting.

It really hurt. Damn my clumsiness and my pride.

"You should have taken my hand." I hold them out for him to see. I see even in the dim light of the car that they're covered in paint, all sorts of colors and layers of it.
"I don't think you want to even look at these messy hands, much less hold them. They're pretty dirty and nasty. Wouldn't want to ruin your nice uniform or anything." I say, and he shakes his head. He takes one of my hands, raises it to his lips, and kisses it.
"I can assure you, Maria, that a bit of paint isn't going to phase me in the least. I may be wealthy beyond your wildest dreams, but above that I am a gentleman. Sometimes accepting the fact that you are a woman and deserve special treatment isn't such a horrible thing. It would certainly suit you much better to accept the shower of compliments Tamaki spurs your way." I scoff and pull my hand away, hoping he doesn't notice my blush.
"I've never been treated that way before. My mother raised me to be self-sufficient so that I wouldn't have to rely on a man for anything. I'm middle class...if you don't already know, we don't exactly have all of these manners. If there's anything that's an indication of that, look at me. I have no grace, no feminine qualities, and I certainly don't squeal and giggle. So asking me to take a compliment is like trying to tell a dog to meow. It isn't happening." He shakes his head at me.

"One of these days you'll learn. We have a long road ahead of us, don't we Maria?" I cock an eyebrow.
"What road is this? I don't remember saying anything about a road." I say, crossing my arms. He chuckles.
"It's a metaphorical road. One that will change you from the middle class to the upper crust when it comes to your manners so that no one knows the difference. You want to fit in, right?" I shrug.
"I'd like friends, but that's the extent of it I think."
"Regardless, you want to fit in with the rest of us. If you plan to stay here through your college years, the things the host club can teach you will carry with you a very long time. After all, what man would ever want to marry such an uncouth and brash woman such as yourself?" I smirk.

"Like I need a man." He chuckles at this comment.
"You'll want one eventually. Your lack of charm and grace isn't going to get you anywhere. With the right training, you could marry any wealthy man regardless of his money or status. Impress his parents and you've got a proposal in your lap. I don't see that happening as you are now." I sweatdrop as he pushes up his glasses.
"You honestly think me so low as to marry a man for his money? I may not be a girl, but if I'm going to marry anyone, it'll be because I love him, not because he's rich." I say. He doesn't say anymore after that, which is odd, but the short ride home is silent from then on.

Surprisingly, I feel much better after tonight. As much as I hate some things and love others, I think I can go to bed tonight and feel like I can wake up tomorrow with a smile.

Maybe being around a bunch of rich, snobby, upper-crust, blue-blooded bastards and bitches isn't such a bad thing after all.


Aww, isn't that shweet? A bit of foreshadowing there, haha. That last line is going to come up again much, much, MUCH later in the story. So...yeah. Just to keep things interesting I'll give you that spoiler, hehe.

So I hope you enjoyed, and I can only improve if you tell me what you think. Otherwise, favorites and alerts make me just as happy, so I look forward to what you guys think :3

Later days!

~B-chan