BLOOM [OHSHC]

Chapter 7 - The Rebel Type

Who knew being a host was so complicated?

Maybe if I'd really known what a host club was before agreeing, I'd have been more prepared. Hikaru and Kaoru's half-assed description hardly covered everything.

Apparently, there had been some big announcement about me in the Host Club e-letter, revealing me as Michiyo: The Rebel Type, "suitable for ladies looking for friendship, or more", along with a list of my hobbies and favorite things, which were weirdly accurate.

But no one asked me about "or more".

It was the first thing I complained about to Kyoya after being dolled up, measured, interviewed, photographed, and fingerprinted - all in the name of the club, of course. I beelined for him, frustration rumbling in my gut. "What's this I hear about me being available for 'or more'?" I said, sidling up next to him during my first official host club meeting.

He jotted notes down in his planner, like usual, and he did that thing again where he smiles for less than a second. "Good afternoon to you too." His icy shield slid right back up, blocking out emotions and hormones and anything slightly inconveniencing. "Is that what Hikaru and Kaoru wrote? 'Or more'? Interesting," he mused, "They do seem to have a knack for riling up the customers, so I leave the newsletter to them and Renge nowadays."

"How do you know Renge didn't write it?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and vaguely wondering who Renge was before refocusing on him, "Anyway, I think you're missing the point! No one asked me if I am available for 'or more'!"

"Well, are you, or aren't you?" Kyoya said, raising an eyebrow at me. "It's very simple, Kimura." His pen stalled in his planner, waiting for my answer. His gray eyes focused on me with such intensity that I swear they would shoot lasers if he let them. Or maybe his robot settings wouldn't allow him to use weapons in a room full of customers.

I pouted, my hands propped on my hips. "It's not that simple." He said nothing, waiting for me to elaborate. So I caved. "Well, how do you explain that you have a fake boyfriend as a publicity stunt and that most of the world thinks you're madly in love with the guy, when in reality he's a idiotic windbag with the IQ of a potato?"

Amused, Kyoya began writing in his planner once more, looking out over his host club kingdom. "Fake boyfriend. Got it."

Growling in frustration, I stomped toward Honey and Mori, who I was supposed to spend the day with, stopping and spitting over my shoulder at Kyoya, "I'm not telling you my super good idea for increasing host club profits! You'll have to earn it!"

He laid a hand over his heart like he was touched - or perhaps even slightly wounded - and had the audacity to give me a pitying look.

"UGH!" I grunted and threw up my arms, making my way over to Honey and Mori.

Stupid boys. Stupid host club. Stupid Kyoya Ootori.

Honey grinned when he saw me coming. "Chiyo-kun! Just in time!" He patted the couch cushion beside him, a few of the girls around tittering at the gesture, and said, "We were going to show everyone how to play a game! Wanna pick for us?"

I collapsed on the couch and crossed my legs, glancing from him to Mori. "You guys are okay with me choosing?"

"Newbie picks," Mori said, sliding me a cup of steaming tea across the table.

A smile worked up through me, my frustration with Kyoya melting away like snow in the spring, and I nodded. "Okay, uhhhh," I said, poring over the board games the boys selected and reading the titles carefully, "How about Clue? I've never played that before. Looks fun."