Hey there readers,
I want to say thank you to all those who have liked/followed/commented on this story or myself. I also want to say that when this happens, when you do this I get a sense of encouragement and purpose. It means more than I want it to or will say it does. I just hope you feel my sincerity regardless. Which brings me to: I apologize for neglecting this story. I haven't reciprocated your encouragement with new chapters. I plan on doing better, but this is a tentative promise. One, however, I hope to keep. Anyways, I won't always preface new chapters like this. In fact, I intend not to. Just know, I like you, reader, I hope you stay patient with me, and I won't give up on this story. I may just take a long time to finish it.
Cheers.
Chapter 4 - Turns to Seed
Afternoon came at rapid approach. Class seemed to end just after it had started and before she knew it Haylee was being swept away in the crowd to lunch. Immediately, a myriad of scents and colors swirled around her as she stepped into the spacious room. Long tables dressed in immaculate white linen were neatly lined throughout the dining area. Servers dressed in freshly pressed uniforms dished delicious smelling foods through windows. Golden chandeliers with drops of glass hung from vaulted ceilings giving the space the appearance of a ball room rather than a place for students to eat. It took several moments for Haylee to recompose herself. She closed her mouth with an audible clap. Just for the sake of doing something she smoothed her skirt. With the nagging reminder in the tone of Leah's melodical voice she raised her chin and exuded a confidence she didn't feel.
When her meal was placed on the delicately engraved silver tray in her hands she smiled brightly at the server and replied, "thank you" automatically. The workers looked so taken aback Haylee immediately became self-conscious. She noticed a couple other students look curiously at her. Her face became hot and she hurried to a table before anyone could see her blush reach her neck. Behind her a few of the students thanked the workers awkwardly.
After slipping into a seat at an empty table, Haylee lifted the dome encasing her food off its plate. A rich gold soup with a sprinkle of green chives greeted her with a puff of steam. A plate sat beside the soup displaying four artfully placed slices of lamb chops. Each square of meat had a dark red center encased in an even brown layer topped with a white spiral of something cream based which was sprinkled with green chives as well. Before she knew it, Haylee consumed the entire meal before her with unabashed gusto. She sat back in her chair sighing happily. The distinct whisper of the assumed student body brought her attention back to the others in the cafeteria. They cast ill-disguisedly glances over their shoulders at her. Their eyes boring invasively. Taking a deep breath she mustered the courage to make a tactical retreated outside.
Students littered the courtyards eating wherever a stone table or iron wrought bench was to be found. Haylee ignored them as she walked across the manicured lawn. She leaned against the thick trunk of an old tree. Light filtered through the canopy landing in the shade. A deep breath rushed from her lungs as she tilted her head back. She clutched the tree behind her for support as she sagged. A squirrel stopped on a branch above. He leaned around the far side of the knotted branch to look at her upside down. Haylee smiled at him.
"Hold on little guy." She spoke to him in English, "I've got a cookie with your name on it somewhere in here."
She retrieved a plastic package from her pocket, broke off a piece of the shortbread cookie, and tossed it in front of her. She sat down and watched as the squirrell cautiously descended to the ground. He turned over the cookie sniffing it while eying her then shoved it in his cheek. He stood on hind legs staring at her expectantly.
"Oh, very well, here." She tossed him the another chunk. It landed close startling him, but not scaring him away. Relief started to settle her stomach. The simple interaction between her and the squirrel eased the tension of expectations and lies. It had been only half a day and already her nerves were shot.
She pulled out her phone and composed a text, "Leah! People want me to come check out their club after school! I told you this was a bad idea…"
The knot of cold pink anxiety churned in the depths of her gut again. Haylee sat on the ground crossing her legs under the folds of her skirt. The squirrell inched closer. The sudden buzz of her phone had him freezing on the spot.
"So?" Leah's text sent a surge of impatiences through Haylee.
"So!? You told me I was bad at making friends!"
Leah's reply came quick. "I lied :P "
Haylee's fingers flew rapidly over the keys. "Are you kidding me? What if they find out I'm not you? This is a terrible idea."
This time a message appeared right after the sent message appeared.
"Haylee, chill. If they find out, I'm in trouble, not you. Just have fun, make lots of friends." Haylee sighed.
Staying mad at Leah was as easy as staying mad at a puppy. She knew Leah sincerely did want her to have fun and would protect her if things went wrong. Before she could respond Leah sent another text. "Tell me all about it when you get home. I'll tell the cook to make your favorite! 3"
Haylee giggled to herself as the image of Leah talking to the old stoic chef popped into her mind. The servants here thought it so improper for the Mistress of the house to bypass the butler and speak to the head chef directly. If that neglect in proprietary wasn't enough, Leah also invaded their personal space with side hugs, full hugs, and the occasional linking of arms when they were walking to the same places. Obitino, the head chef, had turned bright red when Leah and Haylee showed up in his kitchen unannounced. He had pursed his lips together so hard they turned white.
"That's hardly altruistic when my favorite is your favorite. Maybe ask one of the maids to tell Obi?" Haylee typed back. Leah replied a minute later with a sad face. Haylee smiled to herself and rested her head against the trees. She admired the way the light played through the leaves. Several yards away girls chatted away happily, but no other students were around. Haylee felt completely happy in her false seclusion, little did she know another set of eyes were on her.
Kyoya spotted the new student by chance. He had been busily making notes concerning the club's finances when his gaze was pulled out the window to a twitching branch. He was ready to ignore the squirrel needlessly distracting him from actual important things when through the branches thickly laden with leaves he spotted her sitting on the ground. It was unusual to see any student in such a casual position. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose wondering if it was one of those dramatic situations. Occasionally, after a rejection a girl would fall to her knees and cry or even beg for the other to reconsider their decision. The scene, of course, always stuck him as an annoyance, but it provided an opportunity for the Host club. If he could convince one of the guys to go be a gentleman and invite her to take tea with the club she could potentially become a regular.
Kyoya shifted to see the girl was alone and furthermore, not crying. His brows drew together. What other possible reason would a girl sit in the grass? It was uncouth and unrefined, definitely not something a lady of standing would do. The squirrel from before jumped down from his branch and edged toward her shoes. Instead of screaming with disgust or cooing with delight, the girl in the grass casually leaned forward and offered it a piece of food. Her long blonde hair became visible. To Kyoya's knowledge, only a handful of blondes attended Ouran Academy, fewer who were female, and only one who had garnered his attention recently. As if sensing him, she tilted her head up and smiled. Kyoya felt a brief panic and took a step back. She leaned against the trunk of the tree and closed her eyes her expression reflected utter bliss. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he realized he was staring at her. He quickly picked up and cleared his throat.
"Yes?" It was the delivery company. "Have it brought up to the Music Room." He hung up and looked out the window. She was gone.
The bell rang indicating the end of lunch. Haylee had been following a small ornamental river. It took her five minutes to make it back to where she started and then some because she became briefly distracted by the discovery of small silver fish. It took her twenty more minutes to find the right building and ten minutes to get to the classroom. When she entered she was out of breath and a bit embarrassed. The students were of course seated and all looked at her as she entered. The teacher stopped mid sentence and stared as well. Haylee hung her head low and trudged to her seat. When she sat down she noticed everyone's continuous attention. She realized she was in the wrong classroom. She shot out of her seat and awkwardly walked out. Two minutes later, she entered the correct classroom.
"Oh, there you are Pemberton-san." Suyo-sensei said, his mustache bending jovially into a comforting smile.
"I- I'm sorry…" Haylee stood awkwardly in the door before taking a step forward. "I got lost."
"That's alright. Please, have a seat."
It took every fiber in her being to remember to walk in a dignified manner to her seat and sit down gracefully. She really wanted to plop down and hide her head in a dark hoodie, instead she pulled out her notebook with neat conservative movements and began to take notes. As she quickly wrote "Good Press (5/50)" on her header she got an uncomfortable prickle in the edge of her mind. Finally she glanced over her shoulder to see Kyoya's head down his notes. She frowned then returned back to work.
He had caught himself at it again. She had shown up to class in a fluster with her hair windswept, cheeks flushed, and her big blue eyes moist. It all seemed off to him. Something wasn't right and that something he couldn't put his finger on was beginning to interrupt his thoughts. As she took notes he studied her from the corner of his eye for any discrepancies. It wasn't until the teacher began summarizing the lecture that Kyoya realized he hadn't heard a word.
Finally after The Intricacies of the Press: Pressed and Pressured class and a How to Keep Your Accountant Balanced and in Check lecture the end of school bell finally tolled. Wearily, Haylee began packing all of her notes. The teacher barely got "test next Thursday" out when another announcement was shouted.
"Alright ladies!" Tamaki's voice rang out, "In twenty minutes, there will be a Labor Worker themed club today! I hope you all come experience the forbidden love between a lowly worker and the high class!" He winked audaciously causing most of the girls and a few boys to blush. Haylee looked on slightly aghast.
"You're coming right?" One of the girls from before slipped her arm through Haylee's a hung on.
"Ah, I suppose so…" Haylee shifted uncomfortably under the weight. She smiled best she could with the situation. "Although, I don't really understand. What kind of club is it anyways?"
She raised a neatly painted pink fingernail to her lips thoughtfully. She smiled then winked, "You'll see!"
Roses have a unique scent. They consist both of the heavy, buttery scent that seems to warm the lips like a balm and at the same time there's a cool undertone of light, fresh airiness. A rose itself is shy in emitting this graceful combination. To breathe it in one would have to touch petal to nose.
As the white doors with gold trim pulled regally open the smell of roses was exceeded all else. Tears stung Hailee's eyes and the scent left her with the knowledge of what it felt like to have thousands of roses shot directly into her face. Her head warmed and she swayed against the assault. Her companions didn't seem to notice the flowery ambush. Through misted vision a group of boys poised:
Tamaki, center of the living statue, atop what looked like a garden chair was dressed in tattered jeans and a button-up shirt. His tilted head rested on the back of his hand, his while demeanor exuding elegance despite his rugged clothes. His purple eyes gazed at the throng of excited girls, a single rose in his hand.
To his left was a large guy with a stony face. He wore a durable green pants with the matching jacket tied around his waist. A white tank top too clean to have actually seen work accented his muscular arms. A young child with puffy gold hair and a brilliant smile hung on the older guy's shoulder. He wore a chef's uniform complete with the classic white hat.
In the back were twins. Each with devilish grins on their flawless faces. They embraced each other dressed in nothing but speedos. A pool net was entwined in their limbs. To their left and closer to the front was the boy Haylee vaguely remembered from after her rescue from the hedge. Haruhi, smiled kindly toward the girls dressed as a driver. A cabbie cap covered his dark brown hair. He wore a simple brown suit with black wingtips.
Kyoya stood off to the left. Light bounced off his glasses obscuring her view of his eyes. He wore a black suit looking completely normal until she saw the towel drapped over his left arm. In this overwhelming scene somehow he stuck out the most to her.
"Welcome, my lady!" They spoke English in unison.
To each side of Haylee the girls swooned. They clung to each other for support letting out tight happy 'ahs' like enamored tea pots boiling over. Haylee received the distinct impression of being a stiff tree in a garden of rose vines. These girls were so traditionally feminine and cute. She understood the draw of the guys. They were so handsome in their own right, but they were still guys their own age and most of these girls were as conventionally beautiful as the boys were handsome. She hung back as the girls rushed into the music room.
"-the hell?" Haylee said as she realized this was her reality for now.
"Huh, did you say something?" Her classmate asked.
Haylee quickly smothered her confusion with a smile. "Oh, nothing."
"Come on! I have an appointment with Mori-san!" She rushed forward dragging Hailee along.
Kyoya met them at the door. He greeted them with a cool smile. "Yamato-san, you have an appointment with Mori-san today, don't you?"
She blushed and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Kyoya-sama."
Haylee's eyes drew in confusion at the girl's way of addressing him barely able to suppress the immediate judgement threatening to mar her features.
"I shall see you next time then, my lady." He bowed and she scurried off bright pink. "And you, Pemberton-san?"
"I... Have no idea what's going on." She managed to say then swore as indelicate four letter word under her breath in English.
Kyoya's facade almost cracked. The subtle inflection in his expression warned Haylee he had heard that mutter. She attempted to look innocent frustratingly aware she looked guilty. To her relief Kyoya cleared his throat and spoke like he hadn't heard.
"This is a host club. We provide a service to charming young women for a small fee. We have many members to fit certain tastes. There's our fearless leader and king, Tamaki, the Prince-type. If you prefer more mischievous, there's Hikaru and Kaoru, the brotherly love-type. There's the boy lolita-type which would be Honey-senpai. Of course Mori-senpai never leaves his side. He's the silent-type. Lastly, there's Haruhi, the natural."
Kyoya pressed his middle finger against the bridge of his glasses holding them against his nose as he spoke. He waited genuinely interested in who she would choose. Haylee looked around at each member with their respective groups. They served tea and cakes playing around in their costumes.
"Hey, Kyoya," she spoke at last, "What's your type?"
He faltered under her direct stare. Somehow admitting what type he was felt embarrassing.
"People see me as the cool-type." He finally replied.
He was satisfied with that reply. It have no indication of his personal opinion while still answering her question.
"So there's a market for things like this?" She said quietly.
She seemed to be speaking to herself, so Kyoya left that comment alone.
"So, who will you choose, my lady."
"I kinda already said before what my type is, if I had to choose, but the matter of the fact is how am I supposed to choose someone I don't know? I mean, the goal of this club is to flirt with girls, right? Receiving insincere affection isn't really my thing. Plus, it's kind of a way for girls to garner affection from their crushes, right? Doesn't that just set them up for utter heartbreak?"
Haylee had kept her voice down. It wasn't her intention to insult anyone, but a group of nearby girls glared heatedly at her.
"It's just not my thing. Good for you though." She had offered that up as a truce, but the girls just looked away. "Ah, geez."
One of the girls of the group spoke up icily, "don't you think it's rude that she would come here and put them down even after they went through all this trouble just for her? Who does she think she is?"
"While I could appreciate the trouble you've gone through..." Haylee spoke up clearly annoyed. A natural air of haughtiness channelled through her. "I never asked for it. I reserve the right to politely decline your invitation into this event, especially since it becomes a business transaction when I pay. This is in no way a comment on the business itself and I'm in no way responsible for the imagined slights of disgruntled children. Now, if you'll excuse me!"
Haylee gritted her teeth. Her chin snapped up in a disdainful pose. She shot one last scathing glare that she hoped translated to 'you're the mud in my shoes' and walked out completely satisfied as her hair whipped over her shoulder behind her.
The clean scent of wind cut through the perfumed air. It slid like silk, soothing and cold, over Kyoya's skin. Out of habit rather than necessity, he pushed his glasses up. The room had fallen quiet for a brief count of twenty before the gossip chittering began. The group of young ladies who had received the brunt of Pemberton's ire drifted toward Kyoya. They upturned their faces hoping to garner his attention and earn sympathetic affection from him. It took a moment longer than he would ever admit to drag his eyes away from her retreating form down the hall to attend to the clients.
