The ride home was blissfully quiet, although my thoughts were far from still. I replayed the day, wondering at my naiveté and seeing in retrospect the warning signs.
It seemed odd that Beni-Bara was so fixated on Tamaki. Did she really think my first kiss meant that much to him?
I saw his big blue eyes again as he reached up, imploring me to trust him and leap. Deep in my heart I did trust him.
And I didn't.
I trusted his good intentions. I trusted him to act on them, because I knew he cared for me. In some way or another, I was special to him.
But when he acted, it was impulsively. He listened to his heart, given over to its passions without thought for the consequences. It was endearing. But sometimes it was a little frightening. And sometimes—like tonight—ineffectual.
Kyoya's passion was just as intense as Tamaki's, but it was governed by firm resolve. His strength was subtle, hidden behind a thick layer of well-bred manners, but it was a core of steel inside him. I'd never seen him use physical force, but he commanded all his resources—his position, his family's assets, his shrewd intelligence—like an arsenal, or like pieces in a game of chess. Directing the action from the shadows…the Shadow King.
I rested heavily against him now. Under the flicker of passing streetlights my eyes traced the smooth lines of his sinewy forearm down to where his elegant fingers had closed protectively around mine. Yes, I could trust him to protect me.
But why did he? Was it professional interest, protection of the host club female, who—by the way—still owed a debt? Or was I special to him too? He'd played cat and mouse with me enough to make me wonder, but not make me certain. As usual, his thoughts remained a mystery to me.
My mind skipped to the picture of Kyoya striding across the stage, his focus unwavering, fixed on me. I felt the intensity of his passion, the driving force behind all his accomplishments. For one burning moment I knew how it felt to have all his passion focused on me.
I kind of wanted to live in that moment forever.
The car rolled smoothly to a stop before my apartment building. I unwound my hand from his and said, "Thanks for the ride…And for, you know, getting me out of there." I gathered my layers of skirts and opened the door, attempting to clamber out. Both Kyoya and the driver were there offering me a hand. "Thanks again," I said, looking awkwardly from one to the other. The driver nodded politely, but Kyoya seemed distracted. I headed for the stairwell. "Good night," I called over my shoulder.
I heard Kyoya speaking quietly with his driver, then the sound of doors closing and the car purring off. I couldn't help it; I looked over the railing to watch him slip away.
But there he was, climbing the stairs behind me.
My wistful moment gone, I let irritation seep into my voice. "What are you doing?"
"I'm seeing you safely home." He said it like it was the most rational thought in the world.
"I am home," I protested. He was at my side now and we were at a stand-off in front of my door.
"I'm going to wait here and make sure those Lobelia…" he gritted his teeth and seemed to choose his words carefully, "women don't come back."
"I can take care of myself now," I grumbled petulantly.
He gave me a skeptical look. "Just until your father gets back," he offered. "I'm sure he would want me to."
I deflated. He had me there. "Fine." I pulled a key from its hiding place above a nearby window casement. He raised an eyebrow. Okay, so it wasn't the safest, but it was sure helpful in moments like this.
I flipped on the overhead light, and we crowded into the small entryway where I stopped to remove the ridiculous shoes from my costume. I felt him jostling behind me and heard the bolt click into place. My heart stuttered a moment. Locked in, alone with Kyoya.
I stepped away quickly, hanging the key on its hook, while he removed his shoes. I felt a little panicky. What the heck was I going to do with him hanging around for who knows how long?
He stood to his full height and met my eyes.
"Well," I shrugged, trying to act as if everything was normal, "what do you want to do?"
He read my anxious face a moment and replied, "Do you have anything to eat? With all the excitement I missed supper."
"Um, okay." That I could handle. I checked the contents of our refrigerator. I never had gotten to the grocery store after all. "There's sushi. And curry rice leftovers…"
"That would be fine."
"Alright, I'll heat up the rice. Why don't you take this sushi to the table?" I handed him the plastic wrapped container.
He plucked serving implements from the dish drainer as if he owned the place. Putting the items on the low table, he switched on a lamp. The room had a warm, homey glow that settled my nerves even more. He seated himself on the mat before the table and leaned back on his arms, his scrutinizing glance taking in our surroundings. He should have looked out of place, Mr. I-get-driven-around-in-a-Jaguar, but he seemed perfectly at ease. I could see him sitting there again. And again. I could learn what his favorite dishes were, see if my recipe could rival "Cook's."
For tonight, though, I was microwaving leftovers, but I took pains to be sure the rice heated through evenly. His voice carried from the other room. "Why did you agree to perform with the Zuka club, if you don't mind me asking? You don't really enjoy acting, do you?"
What's that supposed to mean? As I finished heating the curry and brought it to the table, I explained how Beni-Bara had manipulated me. "I really believed she was doing it to honor her mother's memory," I concluded, kneeling at the table.
His eyes flitted to my mother's picture. "Yes, I can see how that would have swayed you." He kneeled up in preparation to partake. "Aren't you having anything?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Then I suggest you get a shower and remove that makeup," he said matter-of-factly. "It doesn't suit you."
I was about to take offense when all of a sudden I was aware of the thick cake of makeup and itched to get rid of it. "Okay," I conceded, rising awkwardly in my lengthy dress.
When I saw my reflection in the mirror I had to agree with him—I did look hideous in this get-up. It felt odd undressing with only a couple doors between us. Not that I was worried about him intruding—if I'd established anything tonight it was knowing that I could trust Kyoya. Now Tamaki, on the other hand—he'd probably find some perfectly innocent reason to blunder in and humiliate us both.
As I washed off the remnants of my disastrous day, my thoughts churned. Kyoya. Tamaki. Knowing them now I could see how alike they were in their playful schemes and good intentions. Yet Tamaki wore his openly—dragging everyone around him into his crazy world of light and heat. And Kyoya. Well, what of Kyoya? The Shadow King operated secretly, behind the scenes, to help others. He eschewed recognition for his kindness, tried to explain it away as somehow self-serving.
Where did I belong? With the impetuous, optimistic lover, or with the sedate yet enigmatic strategist.
One world was a roller coaster ride. The other like… what? The unseen yet irresistible pull of a magnet. The embrace of a warm blanket in the dark. Being led by a master through the dizzying dip-and-catch of a tango.
I remembered him hovering over me that night at the beach—his lean muscles on display, heat blazing in his eyes. For a moment I'd thought he was serious, until I recognized it was all an act to make Tamaki's point. But if I were honest with myself I had to admit that, for that one moment, I saw a side of Kyoya that was a little frightening…but also unexpectedly enticing.
Geez, I have to stop thinking this stuff. He's right in the next room, for crying out loud! Besides, I had school and host club and taking care of dad to worry about. Boys were not important.
Yeah, tell that to whatever part of me is hurrying to dress so I can get back to him.