Chapter Four
Could It Be . . .?
AN: What's up my peepy peeps? This is POAS with another chapter of goodness.
She blinked at her computer screen blankly, vivid thoughts of last night running rampant in her mind. Then earlier today Vegeta came up and poked her in the ribs because she had been ignoring him for most of the week. He was starting it again, even though he seemed to ignore her, seemed to hate her, he started his flirting again and she hated it, she hated him for stirring up these buried emotions. He poked and prodded her heart open again while locking and welding it within the hour. He had to be toying with her, he had to be. It only made sense, there was no way he really liked her, I mean he played games and wrestled with her but . . . but . . . stupid brain SHUT UP! She sighed in annoyance, stupid brain, stupid Vegeta, stupid mind games! Her mind was wandering for she let Vegeta sneak up on her, prod her a few more times before she snapped to, and nearly bit off his hand.
"Feisty," he chuckled simply.
"You irritate me," she said sweetly.
"Lunch time."
"I know what time it is!" she snapped.
Vegeta recoiled slightly at the venom in her voice, he had pissed her off before, on purpose even, but now he was confused and had no idea what pissed her off. He simply blinked at her, before shrugging and walking away, showing little to no emotion toward her. Same ol' same ol'. She sighed softly, her muddled mind and frayed nerves forced her to yell out his name, grab her purse and follow him to lunch. He carpooled her, and another friend and ignored her the whole time. On the way back, she was forced into the backseat with three other people, her being squashed against the car window and door. When they finally got back to the office, she was angry and depressed and it seemed Vegeta was exacting revenge for her small outburst. Well, small compared to the full out verbal battles and battles of wit and knowledge the two shared almost every hour. And so, she sat at her desk, answering customers concerns about their crashing operating systems and the occasional "I hate you, you didn't help me worth a damn, you stupid . . ." the list went on and on. There she sat, alone, hating herself and hating Vegeta for being . . . well Vegeta. She curled up on the inside, her feelings balling into small balls and disappearing into the deep abyss. There was no higher being that could bring her out of her slump, there was no one who could help her except THE one. But, the one seemed to hate her, despise her very being, gobble her up and spit her out, she felt numb. She was numb.
"Hello?" Bulma answered the phone with no emotion.
"Hey," came Vegeta's smooth voice. "Found your number."
She made a small noise, his voice made her heart skip a beat or seven. She sat there, listening to him talk, just talk, talk about nothing really but she listened. He needed someone to listen to, and here she was, listening. Now she needed someone to listen to her, to sit there and listen, to not talk, just to listen, to hear her voice, think and help, to listen.
"Vegeta, I need to talk to you."
"About?" he made the word roll off his tongue ever so slowly.
"You know I still have feelings for you. No matter how hard I tried to bury them, no matter how much I tried to ignore you, to stay away, you come back and dig them up. You leave me confused, lacking. You keep telling me you have feelings for you ex repeatedly and yet . . . yet you go out of your way to talk to me, to bother me, to prod me. You leave me thinking, yearning, and I know you have mixed feelings about the whole matter. I need to know . . . do you even like me like that, or am I just some conquest, some unattainable goal?"
She let her words sink in, she finally told him, finally after all this time, those buried emotions surfaced, and here she was, waiting. Her heart nearly did the same as the line went dead a few moments later. Her breath caught in her throat, her feelings would not be returned. She choked back a vicious sob, but her tears . . . tears flowed freely down the sides of her face and soaked into her clothes. She didn't hear her door unlock, she didn't hear his footsteps, and she barely saw his face in front of hers. She let her sob go and it racked her skinny frame, it shook her being, it violated her soul. Bulma closed her eyes tightly, shutting out his blurred image, shoving it away like a mirage, but he was no mirage, he was there, in the flesh, staring.
"Bulma," came his voice.
Her ears rung violently as another cry wracked her form, even in her own home his voice haunted her. His voice burned and branded her soul, her very essence, she gasped for air as she wept and he watched. Vegeta knelt in front of her sobbing form, he heard her hiccup and mutter things he would never understand. He placed his large hands on her small knees, causing her to whip her head up and open her eyes wide. She swallowed hard, she never let herself cry in front of just anyone and she had done it in front of Vegeta of all people! Wait a minute, how did he get into her house?
"What?" her voice was thick with anger and sadness.
He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, not one sound, not a breath of air, nothing. He looked into her ocean colored eyes, floating in a sea of their own. His breath came out as pants, as he forced himself to breathe. Her eyes held all he needed to know, all he wanted to know; he sighed and pressed his eager lips to her pert lemonade ones. How could he have been so blind as to not see this beautiful woman before him who, dare she, loved him with all she had to give, how could he shun her and pick someone who would never love him again, who used him like one ply tissue over her? She responded almost immediately to his kiss, something she had longed for, for as long as she could remember. Her emotions burst forth onto her closed eyelids causing spirals of light and exploding shells of happiness to form.
He pulled away slowly, his lips still burning from a small kiss, a tiny enormous kiss. They stared at each other for sometime as Vegeta began to wipe her tears away with his thumb. He never wanted to hurt her, and when he did, he felt so damn guilty, as if he was killing her.
"Bulma," he murmured softly.
She shook her head slowly to silence him and as she looked into his chocolate eyes, she saw emotions she had never seen in him before, ones he refused to show. She inhaled quickly as she spotted the one emotion she had longed to see from him, that one that now had her trapped. Again, their lips met in fiery passion.
AN: More edits.
POAS
Could It Be . . .?
AN: What's up my peepy peeps? This is POAS with another chapter of goodness.
She blinked at her computer screen blankly, vivid thoughts of last night running rampant in her mind. Then earlier today Vegeta came up and poked her in the ribs because she had been ignoring him for most of the week. He was starting it again, even though he seemed to ignore her, seemed to hate her, he started his flirting again and she hated it, she hated him for stirring up these buried emotions. He poked and prodded her heart open again while locking and welding it within the hour. He had to be toying with her, he had to be. It only made sense, there was no way he really liked her, I mean he played games and wrestled with her but . . . but . . . stupid brain SHUT UP! She sighed in annoyance, stupid brain, stupid Vegeta, stupid mind games! Her mind was wandering for she let Vegeta sneak up on her, prod her a few more times before she snapped to, and nearly bit off his hand.
"Feisty," he chuckled simply.
"You irritate me," she said sweetly.
"Lunch time."
"I know what time it is!" she snapped.
Vegeta recoiled slightly at the venom in her voice, he had pissed her off before, on purpose even, but now he was confused and had no idea what pissed her off. He simply blinked at her, before shrugging and walking away, showing little to no emotion toward her. Same ol' same ol'. She sighed softly, her muddled mind and frayed nerves forced her to yell out his name, grab her purse and follow him to lunch. He carpooled her, and another friend and ignored her the whole time. On the way back, she was forced into the backseat with three other people, her being squashed against the car window and door. When they finally got back to the office, she was angry and depressed and it seemed Vegeta was exacting revenge for her small outburst. Well, small compared to the full out verbal battles and battles of wit and knowledge the two shared almost every hour. And so, she sat at her desk, answering customers concerns about their crashing operating systems and the occasional "I hate you, you didn't help me worth a damn, you stupid . . ." the list went on and on. There she sat, alone, hating herself and hating Vegeta for being . . . well Vegeta. She curled up on the inside, her feelings balling into small balls and disappearing into the deep abyss. There was no higher being that could bring her out of her slump, there was no one who could help her except THE one. But, the one seemed to hate her, despise her very being, gobble her up and spit her out, she felt numb. She was numb.
"Hello?" Bulma answered the phone with no emotion.
"Hey," came Vegeta's smooth voice. "Found your number."
She made a small noise, his voice made her heart skip a beat or seven. She sat there, listening to him talk, just talk, talk about nothing really but she listened. He needed someone to listen to, and here she was, listening. Now she needed someone to listen to her, to sit there and listen, to not talk, just to listen, to hear her voice, think and help, to listen.
"Vegeta, I need to talk to you."
"About?" he made the word roll off his tongue ever so slowly.
"You know I still have feelings for you. No matter how hard I tried to bury them, no matter how much I tried to ignore you, to stay away, you come back and dig them up. You leave me confused, lacking. You keep telling me you have feelings for you ex repeatedly and yet . . . yet you go out of your way to talk to me, to bother me, to prod me. You leave me thinking, yearning, and I know you have mixed feelings about the whole matter. I need to know . . . do you even like me like that, or am I just some conquest, some unattainable goal?"
She let her words sink in, she finally told him, finally after all this time, those buried emotions surfaced, and here she was, waiting. Her heart nearly did the same as the line went dead a few moments later. Her breath caught in her throat, her feelings would not be returned. She choked back a vicious sob, but her tears . . . tears flowed freely down the sides of her face and soaked into her clothes. She didn't hear her door unlock, she didn't hear his footsteps, and she barely saw his face in front of hers. She let her sob go and it racked her skinny frame, it shook her being, it violated her soul. Bulma closed her eyes tightly, shutting out his blurred image, shoving it away like a mirage, but he was no mirage, he was there, in the flesh, staring.
"Bulma," came his voice.
Her ears rung violently as another cry wracked her form, even in her own home his voice haunted her. His voice burned and branded her soul, her very essence, she gasped for air as she wept and he watched. Vegeta knelt in front of her sobbing form, he heard her hiccup and mutter things he would never understand. He placed his large hands on her small knees, causing her to whip her head up and open her eyes wide. She swallowed hard, she never let herself cry in front of just anyone and she had done it in front of Vegeta of all people! Wait a minute, how did he get into her house?
"What?" her voice was thick with anger and sadness.
He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, not one sound, not a breath of air, nothing. He looked into her ocean colored eyes, floating in a sea of their own. His breath came out as pants, as he forced himself to breathe. Her eyes held all he needed to know, all he wanted to know; he sighed and pressed his eager lips to her pert lemonade ones. How could he have been so blind as to not see this beautiful woman before him who, dare she, loved him with all she had to give, how could he shun her and pick someone who would never love him again, who used him like one ply tissue over her? She responded almost immediately to his kiss, something she had longed for, for as long as she could remember. Her emotions burst forth onto her closed eyelids causing spirals of light and exploding shells of happiness to form.
He pulled away slowly, his lips still burning from a small kiss, a tiny enormous kiss. They stared at each other for sometime as Vegeta began to wipe her tears away with his thumb. He never wanted to hurt her, and when he did, he felt so damn guilty, as if he was killing her.
"Bulma," he murmured softly.
She shook her head slowly to silence him and as she looked into his chocolate eyes, she saw emotions she had never seen in him before, ones he refused to show. She inhaled quickly as she spotted the one emotion she had longed to see from him, that one that now had her trapped. Again, their lips met in fiery passion.
AN: More edits.
POAS