Everybody at school noticed when they started hanging out together all the time. This was after the city was rebuilt and people's memories selectively erased, but before the two of them went on their first official date.
We're just friends, he said hurriedly whenever a fellow student smirked, or gave a knowing look, or otherwise tried to tease him about his potentially blooming relationship with her.
He wasn't sure what he was embarrassed about. It was normal for a boy of his age to be with a girl. His own parents had gotten married when they were just a little older than he was now, and soon after he was born.
He blushed at the thought. Would he be having his own baby with her in about a year then? No, he was getting ahead of himself. His parents were country folks who lived by different rules. The people at this high school, on the other hand, were modern people. Like Bulma, who had a baby first before any wedding bells rang. That would never fly with his Mom, who would insist he did things in the right order.
On one of those days when they were walking together after school and he instinctively said We're just friends as a classmate passed by and faked a cough, she finally said something.
Does it bother you?
He wasn't sure what she was referring to. What does?
That people are teasing us about being a couple.
Oh. He wasn't sure how to respond to this. It just seemed too forward to blatantly admit he liked the idea of being a couple with her. Not really. I just don't like it when the attention is on me.
You know people only enjoy teasing you because you react the way they expect you to. And anyway, we need to finish what we started.
. . .what did we start? Now he was lost.
Remember when you tried to ask me out at the Hyperbolic Chamber? she asked. We never did go out for real. We sort of just started hanging out, which is fine by me, but if we want to make it official we need a first date.
Make . . . it . . . official? he repeated, not following her.
You know, she said coyly. So the next time somebody implies we're going out, you could stop panicking and stop saying "We're just friends."
She didn't look particularly upset, but something clicked in his head. He stopped in his tracks. I'm sorry. Does it bother you? That I keep telling everyone "We're just friends"?
She turned around to face him. A little bit. I mean . . . are we just friends? Now even she seemed a little unsure of herself. That wasn't good. She was supposed to be the confident one in this relationship.
I . . . he faltered, struggling to get the words out but understanding the urgency of the situation. I kind of want you to be my girlfriend . . . if that's okay with you.
She smiled and reached for his hands. That's perfectly okay with me. Now, let's plan for that date.
As they went on walking and talking with their hands held, a group of classmates passed by and teased them over their first public display of affection.
We're just . . . he started to say, but stopped himself when he felt her squeezing his hand. A reminder of the earlier agreement. He tried again. This is my girlfriend.
Something he'd have to get used to saying, but not a bad taste in his mouth.