The house is beautiful. It really is. It reminds me of The Great Gatsby. The grounds are so lush, and I've already spotted a few trees that I can lose track of time under. But, I still can't shake the feeling that something is missing.

Well, of course something is missing: Yamcha. I left my boyfriend all alone in Japan, and here I am, in Sands Point, about to spend the entire summer away from him. We decided to separate for the time being. I mean, I'm in New York, and he's on the other side of the world. Then, after that, I'm headed off to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology aka MIT. It just wouldn't make sense to stay together, what with the physical and emotional distance.

I miss him, though. I hate to admit it, but I'm worried he'll move on first. Maybe not fall in love first, but there are certainly other ways one can move on. Ways that I am not necessarily a fan of, but I know Yamcha is.

I grumble as I trudge up the stairs, my suitcase clunking with each step I take. My dad decided to take a few months off from Capsule Corporation, leaving it in the hands of the Board of Directors. This was a first for him, so he dragged my mother and I with him for some "much needed" family bonding. And, here we are. I don't even know where they are right now. I think I heard something about the beach before the door slammed.

This place is completely foreign to me. I don't know anyone here. I'm worried that I'm going to spend the whole summer with my parents and my parents alone. I'm sure they don't even want that! I'm sure "family bonding" also meant "husband and wife reconnecting," but let's not go there.

Finally, I reach the entrance to what I decide will be my room for the entirety of June, July, and August. It's pristine. The color scheme is really just fresh white and pale blue, two of my favorite colors—even though white isn't really a color.

I collapse on the fluffy, king sized bed and grab my iPhone from the adjacent nightstand. Two messages from Yamcha. My heart flutters even though I know we are not and cannot be together.

YAMCHA: Hey, B! Hope you're loving Sands Point. We miss you over here! Don't be a stranger xx

I grin like a madman at his message and quickly type a reply—BULMA: I miss you too! So far, SP sucks...don't even know anyone here! Maybe I will catch a flight back to South City, huh? xx

YAMCHA: You should. Will be waiting at the airport with flowers for you, my love.

I stuff my face into a pillow to stifle my scream, mixed with both joy and sorrow. I love him—I really do, but I can't have him because of this stupid vacation. So, there's no use wallowing in depression, right? Summer is about second chances and love and fooling around. I should be doing that, not laying in my bed and missing Yamcha.

I gather my confidence and step out of my bedroom and walk all the way out of the house, or should I say, mansion. The grounds are so immense, it takes me a good five minutes to make my way off our property. Sands Point is not exactly a big city. In fact, it's really just a cute, small town full of rich, snobby people. I doubt I'll find a single person here who doesn't work on Wall Street and is below the age of 45.

I plug in my headphones and tune out the sound of silence with The Beatles, "I've Just Seen a Face." Hopefully it'll get me in a good mood. Maybe some good old, traditional, American ice cream will get me out of this funk. I proceed to the town square where, according to my intense Google searching, there are a few tasteful ice cream parlors.

Finally, I am waiting on line with delicious anticipation for my homemade, mint chocolate chip scoop. I am humming Pink Floyd, and everything is starting to look up. Someone taps on my shoulder.

"Hey," a girl with ice-cold blue eyes says. "Pink Floyd?"

I nod, yanking my headphones out of my ears. "Yeah, you a fan?"

"Duh," she replies with a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, my name's Eighteen."

"Eighteen? Huh, that's weird," I comment, a bit too forwardly, but she just laughs. "I mean, I like it, it's just different…" I try to save myself awkwardly. Way to go, Bulma, insult the first girl you meet in this godforsaken place.

"Don't worry about it. Believe me, if you think my name's weird, just wait till you meet my mother."

"Oh, I'm meeting your mother?" I challenge.

"Of course, but after the wedding, babe. I don't want to scare you off!" She quips, and I burst out into giggles. I like Eighteen. She's cool. That's the perfect way to describe her: cool.

"Excuse me, miss?" The cashier says, interrupting my conversation with Eighteen. I turn around and inform her of my order.

"So, what's your name? I'm marrying you, so I need to know what to put on the invitations," Eighteen asks after she's given the cashier her order, as well. She drapes her arm around my thin shoulders, and all I can think about is how no one is this brazen in South City.

I smile up at her as I'm handed my mint chocolate chip cup. "I'm Bulma Brief. You want to take a walk with me? I don't know anyone here."

She grabs her chocolate cone and follows me out of the parlor. "Of course, my future wife—can't just have you walking around by yourself in scary Sands Point!" She jokes. "I'm kidding. This place is so safe, it gets annoying."

"I know what you mean," I respond, shaking my head fervently. We walk down a pathway, and I look around, surveying all the shops and restaurants Sands Point has to offer. It really is quite quaint but in an extremely lavish way. There's a teeny macaron shop on the corner, and I'm instantly dead set on grabbing a few orange blossoms for the walk home.

"So, who are you, babe? Who's the real Bulma Brief?" She asks me as we pass an Italian restaurant. I make note of its name—you never know when you're going to be in desperate need of black truffle pasta.

I tap my chin in a mockingly thoughtful manner. "Well, I'm eighteen years old...I live in South City, but I'm vacationing here for the summer with my family. I'm heading up to MIT in late August for the start of the term—"

"MIT?" Eighteen exclaims. "Wow, what are you, some kind of genius? Also, I'm going to Tufts!"

"Wait, really? They're like...fifteen minutes away from each other. Oh, thank god, I actually know someone. I was so nervous," I say, completely relieved. "And, yeah. I am a genius. 170 IQ, babe."

"You're humble, too," she notes, playfully pushing me as I stick my tongue out at her. "But, go on, Bulma."

"You can call me 'B.' But, as I was saying, I'm heading up to MIT soon. I recently broke up with my boyfriend, Yamcha. I miss him…" I confess, looking down at my shoe as my longing for him overcomes me.

Eighteen takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. "I'm sorry, B. How long were you guys together?"

"About a year."

"Oh god, that really fucking sucks," she agrees, our hands swinging together. "How about I take you to a party tonight to get your mind off of him? I can introduce you to my super hot guyfriends," she suggests, her eyebrows waggling in suggestion.

"Eighteen! We literally just broke up. I can't just go hook up with some other guy. That's not really my style, anyway. I mean, unless they're really hot, of course."

"Shut up, Bulma, that's everyone's style. And, I promise they're really hot. The only one who's taken is Vegeta, but I bet he'd piss you off anyway," she tells me as we turn a corner.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I feel like you guys are too similar. I bet you'd have really hot hate sex, though," she says. I punch her in the shoulder and feel an instant wave of guilt towards Yamcha. But, also, an instant wave of excitement that I choose to ignore for now.

"Oh, really?" I say smugly. "Well, you can tell this Vegeta that there will be no 'hot hate sex' between us."

"You can tell him yourself," she replies, gesturing to a boy with spiky, black hair who is smirking at the two of us.

"No hate sex, huh?" He dares. "I'm wounded."

A/N: Hey, guys! Don't worry, I'm still working on Her Brave Spirit, but I'm starting this story too! I hope you like it! Also, if you want me to write a chapter two, you gotta leave a review! If I get like 10 reviews, I'll post a new chapter.

Thanks!

Aisha xx