Last time:
"Tonight at seven?" (Yes, I know, I changed it. But it goes better with the story).
"It's a date stranger boy."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Vegeta crept through the foyer and into the hall, pulling Bulma along with him, his other hand clamped over her mouth. He knew for a fact that his mother was in the living room, just around the corner, and that if he made it to his room, he'd be home free.
But, unbeknownst to him, Bulma wasn't about to make it that easy. Just as they were about to reach the stairs, she slammed her foot down on his, causing him to let out a tremendous yowl of pain. His glare was sufficient in expressing his anger for her, and he stomped upstairs to his room, just missing the entrance of his mother at the other end of the hall.
"Hello," the dark-haired woman said, an impossible-to-hide smile stretched across her features. "You must be Bulma."
"What makes you say that?" she replied, crossing her arms uncomfortably across her hoodie-clad chest, all the while thinking that she must look like crap compared to what Vegeta usually brings home.
Mrs. Ouji held up a tabloid, plastered with images of her and Vegeta at The Lion's Den. One picture showed her flipping off the camera as Vegeta dragged her away, and another caught her angry face as the reporters insisted on shoving video cameras in her face. None were flattering, and all had captions that proclaimed her and Vegeta's love.
"Wow," Bulma finally laughed, a little more at ease. "I didn't know we were married. We moved faster than I thought."
"So you two are dating?" she asked hopefully, the tabloid rolled tightly in her hands.
"No, just getting to know each other, you know?" Mrs. Ouji nodded, though inside she wondered how Vegeta ever came across a girl who didn't want to end up in his bed. For, as much as she didn't want to believe the tabloids, she knew there was truth in there somewhere. "That was our first and only date, in the tabloid I mean. My friend Maris challenged Vegeta on a video game and bet that if she won he'd have to go on a date with me, without my permission, of course. So I agreed. No offense, but he can be a real pain sometimes."
"Oh sweety," she laughed. "You don't know the half of it. But I'm sure you want to get going to see him, so I'll let you alone." She turned to leave, but as she approached the entrance to the living room, turned back around and said, "You really should come by more often. I'd really love to get to know you."
"I'd love that," Bulma squeezed out, only releasing a breath when she was gone. "Oh Kami," she sighed, ascending the stairs, wondering all the while why she felt the need to impress this woman that she barely knew.
"What took you so long?" Vegeta grumbled, as Bulma entered his room, knowing his door at the first glance; it was painted black. "I hope you weren't talking to my mother. She'll brainwash you."
"She was just showing me some baby pictures of you."
Vegeta's face immediately paled.
"I'm kidding!" she laughed, patting his knee as she took a seat beside him on his bed. "Geez, you looked like you were going to faint or something. She only wanted to know who I was."
"Right…"
"She asked if we were dating."
He gave her a look as if you say, "Well, what did you tell her?"
"I said no, of course. She seemed surprised when I said we were getting to know each other. I mean, I know it's bullshit, but I didn't think she would."
"That's because she knows how I am," he sighed, falling back on his pillows, his hands beneath his head.
"You don't mean…?"
"Yes," he confirmed matter-of-factly. "I have no secrets from that woman…She must have almost had a heart attack when she realized you weren't 'just a screw' as everyone likes to say."
"Then what am I?"
Instead of answering, Vegeta reached beneath his bed and pulled out a large rectangular object wrapped in what looked like a sheet.
"Well?"
"I think you'd like this," he said, handing her the hidden object.
Carefully, she unfolded the fabric, revealing a dusty brown book with intricately detailed designs and drawings of flowers, animals, and women; no men. No wait, it was all one woman. A woman with blue hair, like hers.
She turned it over in her hands, examining all the corners and the spine, though it bore no name or title or any indication of what the book was. But, as soon as she opened it, her eyes nearly bulged from her head, as the name inside was one she knew, and loved.
"Holy kuso!" she swore, jumping off the bed, her hands tightly securing the book to her chest. "I've heard about this book! But no one has it…ever! Holy Kami!…Kuso! Oh Kami…" She turned it over and over in her hands, then looked up at him, her eyes wider still, if that were possible. "This…this is an original," she gasped. "There are only four originals he did himself and this is one of them! Kami! Where did you get this!?"
"An antique shop, the other day. Just kind of wandered in there. It's in Townsend. Cost me a couple of pennies, too."
"How much?" Her eyes still hadn't reached their normal size.
"Eight hundred—" Bulma gasped. "—thousand."
"Kuso! Damn! You must really love Anzai to buy this for that much."
"Not when I bought it. That's the first book I read. Pretty good actually. Didn't think it would be, the way my mother raves about it."
"Your mother likes Anzai?" She nearly tumbled to the floor, though caught herself at the last second and sank onto the bed. "Kami, this is too much. Let me think for a minute."
Vegeta only rolled his eyes and grabbed for the other Anzai book he was in the process of reading; Magnolia's Slaughter. After a few moments of Bulma's silence, with her staring far off in the distance, he held his book up and asked her if she'd read it. She turned towards him with a few second's delay.
"Yes," she said, her voice low, her eyes knitted together. "That's the first one I read. I love the imagery." She took a deep breath, and then continued, her scrambled brain finally calmed. "You almost feel like you're in one of those battle scenes. I felt so dirty after I read it that I took a shower. Felt like I was covered in blood, instead of Magnolia."
"Yeah," he commented, closing the book on his lap. "I'm halfway through. She just cut her father's head off with that saw." He leaned over and set the book on his nightstand. "Took a damn page and a half to describe it."
"But you liked it, didn't you?" she asked, curling her lip.
"Who wouldn't?" came his reply. He slipped off the bed and pulled on the boots he'd discarded upon entering the room.
"Where're you going?"
"The stupid antique shop."
"Well I want to go!" she all but pouted.
"Why the hell else would I go back there?" he snapped. "Now hurry up. I want to finish that book tonight."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Yamcha switched uneasily from one foot to the other, his eyes darting back and forth along the narrow street in search of the blonde bombshell drummer he was supposed to meet. Several times he almost lost his nerve, only to remind himself that he was there for Bulma and that nothing should keep him from making his proposal.
"Yamcha!"
The voice was loud enough to startle him into a near fit. When he finally located the source, he was staring deep into the big blue eyes of 18 Gero. He was almost too stunned by her beauty—and the fact that she was one of the most famous rockstars in the business; in the world—that he could barely choke out a hello.
"So, you've called me here about Bulma, correct?"
"Yeah," he said, forcing away all thoughts other than his project at hand. If he was going to get over Bulma, and help her out in the process, then this was the perfect way to go about it. He hoped.
"Well, let's go inside. It's too muggy out here and I have a craving for tea."
"You're Japanese," he pointed out. "You'll always have a craving for tea."
Her laughter was sufficient enough to finally break the ice for him and he opened the door to the café, motioning for her to go first.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The moment Vegeta walked through the door of the Townsend antique shop, the owner, the middle-aged woman from a few days before, came rushing towards him, grabbing his arm frantically. It took him a moment to realize why she was acting so strange and excited to see him; she was holding a copy of the picture she'd taken of him.
"So," he laughed, shrugging her away. "I see your daughter liked what she saw."
"Holy Kami! She almost fainted on the spot!" the woman cried. "I need your autograph."
"You have my check," he reminded her.
"I cashed it!"
"Baka," he snarled, taking a pen off the front desk and scribbling his signature on a small note pad. "There, now she can faint for real." He turned from her, ignoring her suppressed squeals of delight, only to find that Bulma was no longer at his side. "Where the hell did she go?"
"Down the hall," the owner replied as she dialed the desk phone and turned from him.
Moments later he found her in exactly the place he figured she'd be; the library. She was perched atop the ladder, a book open on her lap, her eyes moving fluidly across the page. For a minute all he could do was stare at her, the innocent way she was just sitting there and reading; a big smile crept onto his face. And, as she finally looked up, he fought to enforce his scowl.
"I found this great book," she announced, waving him over. "It's a Sayoko Wakai novel. The first one she wrote. She was only thirteen, but the book didn't get published until she was in her thirties. And she's lucky for that, too. One of the first woman writer's of her time." She held the book out for him to see. Again, it was a tattered, barely held together book. Didn't she read anything that was printed before the 16th century? "See." She pointed to the drawing on the title page, a hideously beautiful depiction of a dragon eating a samurai whole. The caption beneath it read: Atasuke in his final battle with Kaan the Dragon. "The story isn't as cheesy as the picture though. Atasuke actually stabs the dragon over a hundred times, though, just as he's about to pierce it's heart, his adversary, Sharaku, runs at them and tackles Atasuke to the ground. The picture doesn't show that Sharaku was devoured first. But, it's all good, because Atasuke regains consciousness in Kaan's belly and slices him open with his dagger. Very bloody scene, or so I'd imagine."
After her small speech about the book, she looked up at Vegeta, only to be startled as his eyes were already on her. She doubted he'd heard a word of what she'd said.
"I'm going to buy it," she managed to say, and eased herself off the ladder, which only brought her even more uncomfortably close to him. "It's a copy from the 18th century. Not very valuable."
"You know woman," he all but purred, placing a hand on a rung of the ladder, thereby enclosing her. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were purposely avoiding looking at me. Tell me you don't feel that tension."
"The only thing I am feeling is INSTENSE annoyance at you. Let me by."
"You really should give me a shot," he continued, ignoring her demand. "I don't understand you. You're the only woman who knows I'm a star and doesn't tremble when I talk."
"Then I must be the only practical woman you know."
"What do you have to lose?"
"Dignity."
"One more date," he pressed, his face inching towards hers. For a second, she almost leaned in.
"No."
"No cameras. I promise. No one will find us where I'll take you."
"That sounds like a line from a bad horror movie. Now get out of my way, I want to go home and look at this."
"Or get away from me?"
"Both," she snapped, shoving at him. This only furthered his desire, and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, pressing his lips to hers. This time, she didn't hesitate, and pushed at him so hard that he had to take a few steps to regain balance. "I'm not going to fall for you, Vegeta, so you can forget it. I know how you are, you even admitted so yourself. Why on earth would I put myself through something like that? And for a jerk who could care less about a single soul other than himself?" She sighed deeply, suddenly feeling sorry for having pushed him so hard. "Look, I'm sorry about shoving you, but when a girl says no she means it. I'll hang out with you, yes. I'll discuss Anzai with you if you want, ok. But a date? Come on Vegeta, be serious. We clash, and besides, I'm not interested in you, and the only reason you're interested in me is for the challenge. So let's go back to your house, watch a movie with your mother and eat popcorn, ok?"
"You know I can't stand my mother," he said, as if not hearing all of what she'd said.
"Yes, I'm aware. And if there's one thing I want to accomplish out of our friendship it's getting you two to be civil with each other. Well, more like getting you to forgive her for whatever you think she's done to you."
"Did you say friendship?" he balked, shaking his head.
"Why? What's wrong with that? We hang out, share interests, fight. What else is there to a friendship?"
"I'm not 'friends' with girls."
"You're friends with 18. Why am I so different?"
"Because," he explained, as he made for the door; Bulma followed suit. "I'm trying to get into your pants. We can't be friends."
"You'll never succeed," she laughed. "Face it, buddy. We're friends."
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18 shook her head slowly as she sipped her tea. After hearing Yamcha's proposition, and weighing everything out, she'd come to the conclusion that what he was asking was too much. It not only put Bulma's emotions at stack, but those of everyone around her, including 18 herself.
"I just don't think it'll work," she sighed, setting her cup down. "Do you realize what could happen if it doesn't work? How many people could be hurt? Yourself included."
"Yes, I know." He hadn't touched his tea. "But I just don't see it not working. I don't understand how it could backfire. Sure, Bulma is stubborn and closed-off, but I really see something there. If it doesn't work, I'm the only one to blame. All I want from you is the information. If she gets angry, I'll take the fall."
"It's so risky though. I mean, how the hell are you going to pull it off in the first place? Let alone force her into a situation that may back her into a corner. She'll hate you."
"But if it works she'll be happy."
"You would risk that to make her happy?" she asked, arching her brow. Never had she seen such dedication to a single person. What she was seeing now was love, no question.
"Of course I would. We wouldn't be having this conversation if I wasn't willing to risk it all."
"Kami," she sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Well, if you can set things up, then I'm in."
"Great!" he nearly yelled, a huge grin stretching across his features.
"Just remember that you're toying with other people's lives, Yamcha."
"I know. It's not a game. I'm really giving it my all. Thank you so much!"
"Don't mention it. But hey, I think I'm gonna split. I'll call you when I have something, ok?"
"Sounds great."
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As Bulma and Vegeta emerged from the antique shop, a strange sight caught her eye, and she couldn't simply continue walking.
"What?" Vegeta growled as she stopped in the street.
"Over there." She pointed to a small café down the street. "That's my ex-boyfriend, and he's with 18."
"Yeah, what's the big deal?"
"Yamcha doesn't know her. How the hell—"
"Forget about it. I'll ask her later, ok?"
"Alright," she replied hesitantly.
As they climbed into his car, parked just outside of Townsend, Vegeta suddenly asked Bulma something that would change their relationship from then on. And though the words seemed simple, they illustrated a whole new meaning.
"So, what movie are we watching?"
They were now officially friends.
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The next morning Bulma awoke to the sound of someone banging on her bedroom door. When she finally forced herself out of bed and to the door, her mother was nearly in hysterics.
"What?" she yawned, glaring at her. It was only 10:00 am, on a Saturday.
"There's a package for you."
"Yeah, what's so great about that? I order stuff all the time."
"I know," her mother sighed playfully, handing her the box. "But this is different. Look. It only says 'Bulma' on it. Someone hand delivered it. Bulma, dear, you have an admirer."
"Mom, stop talking crazy. Sheesh. It's probably just from Chi or Krillin."
"Nope."
"And how do you know?"
"Because, silly, I saw the boy who left it for you. Thought no one was awake."
"So who was it?"
"Just open the package, dear. Breakfast is on the table."
As Bulma shut the door, her wondered if her mother was on any medication that she didn't know about. Taking a seat on her bed, she carefully pulled the tape off the box, finding it stuffed to the brim with packaging peanuts. She shoved most of them out of the box, and onto her bed, until she came to the contents; a large rectangular object wrapped in a sheet.
She yet out a gasp.
"No," she told herself. "It's a coincidence."
But, as the sheet revealed the object, her heart fluttered and she nearly squealed.
Immediately she grabbed her phone and dialed the number she'd been given last night. One ring. Two rings. Three—
"Hello?" came a groggy and annoyed voice.
"Yes," she said excitedly, still clutching the present to her chest.
"Yes what?"
"Yes I'll go on another date with you."
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---Chapter 12! Well, well, well, would you look at that? Vegeta and Bulma going on a date? One they both actually want to go on? It looks like things may be heating up for them. Woo! Could this be the beginning of something? :D
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters) And I mean it.
Next time: The date? Hmm…maybe. Let's see where I go with this :P
"Tonight at seven?" (Yes, I know, I changed it. But it goes better with the story).
"It's a date stranger boy."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Vegeta crept through the foyer and into the hall, pulling Bulma along with him, his other hand clamped over her mouth. He knew for a fact that his mother was in the living room, just around the corner, and that if he made it to his room, he'd be home free.
But, unbeknownst to him, Bulma wasn't about to make it that easy. Just as they were about to reach the stairs, she slammed her foot down on his, causing him to let out a tremendous yowl of pain. His glare was sufficient in expressing his anger for her, and he stomped upstairs to his room, just missing the entrance of his mother at the other end of the hall.
"Hello," the dark-haired woman said, an impossible-to-hide smile stretched across her features. "You must be Bulma."
"What makes you say that?" she replied, crossing her arms uncomfortably across her hoodie-clad chest, all the while thinking that she must look like crap compared to what Vegeta usually brings home.
Mrs. Ouji held up a tabloid, plastered with images of her and Vegeta at The Lion's Den. One picture showed her flipping off the camera as Vegeta dragged her away, and another caught her angry face as the reporters insisted on shoving video cameras in her face. None were flattering, and all had captions that proclaimed her and Vegeta's love.
"Wow," Bulma finally laughed, a little more at ease. "I didn't know we were married. We moved faster than I thought."
"So you two are dating?" she asked hopefully, the tabloid rolled tightly in her hands.
"No, just getting to know each other, you know?" Mrs. Ouji nodded, though inside she wondered how Vegeta ever came across a girl who didn't want to end up in his bed. For, as much as she didn't want to believe the tabloids, she knew there was truth in there somewhere. "That was our first and only date, in the tabloid I mean. My friend Maris challenged Vegeta on a video game and bet that if she won he'd have to go on a date with me, without my permission, of course. So I agreed. No offense, but he can be a real pain sometimes."
"Oh sweety," she laughed. "You don't know the half of it. But I'm sure you want to get going to see him, so I'll let you alone." She turned to leave, but as she approached the entrance to the living room, turned back around and said, "You really should come by more often. I'd really love to get to know you."
"I'd love that," Bulma squeezed out, only releasing a breath when she was gone. "Oh Kami," she sighed, ascending the stairs, wondering all the while why she felt the need to impress this woman that she barely knew.
"What took you so long?" Vegeta grumbled, as Bulma entered his room, knowing his door at the first glance; it was painted black. "I hope you weren't talking to my mother. She'll brainwash you."
"She was just showing me some baby pictures of you."
Vegeta's face immediately paled.
"I'm kidding!" she laughed, patting his knee as she took a seat beside him on his bed. "Geez, you looked like you were going to faint or something. She only wanted to know who I was."
"Right…"
"She asked if we were dating."
He gave her a look as if you say, "Well, what did you tell her?"
"I said no, of course. She seemed surprised when I said we were getting to know each other. I mean, I know it's bullshit, but I didn't think she would."
"That's because she knows how I am," he sighed, falling back on his pillows, his hands beneath his head.
"You don't mean…?"
"Yes," he confirmed matter-of-factly. "I have no secrets from that woman…She must have almost had a heart attack when she realized you weren't 'just a screw' as everyone likes to say."
"Then what am I?"
Instead of answering, Vegeta reached beneath his bed and pulled out a large rectangular object wrapped in what looked like a sheet.
"Well?"
"I think you'd like this," he said, handing her the hidden object.
Carefully, she unfolded the fabric, revealing a dusty brown book with intricately detailed designs and drawings of flowers, animals, and women; no men. No wait, it was all one woman. A woman with blue hair, like hers.
She turned it over in her hands, examining all the corners and the spine, though it bore no name or title or any indication of what the book was. But, as soon as she opened it, her eyes nearly bulged from her head, as the name inside was one she knew, and loved.
"Holy kuso!" she swore, jumping off the bed, her hands tightly securing the book to her chest. "I've heard about this book! But no one has it…ever! Holy Kami!…Kuso! Oh Kami…" She turned it over and over in her hands, then looked up at him, her eyes wider still, if that were possible. "This…this is an original," she gasped. "There are only four originals he did himself and this is one of them! Kami! Where did you get this!?"
"An antique shop, the other day. Just kind of wandered in there. It's in Townsend. Cost me a couple of pennies, too."
"How much?" Her eyes still hadn't reached their normal size.
"Eight hundred—" Bulma gasped. "—thousand."
"Kuso! Damn! You must really love Anzai to buy this for that much."
"Not when I bought it. That's the first book I read. Pretty good actually. Didn't think it would be, the way my mother raves about it."
"Your mother likes Anzai?" She nearly tumbled to the floor, though caught herself at the last second and sank onto the bed. "Kami, this is too much. Let me think for a minute."
Vegeta only rolled his eyes and grabbed for the other Anzai book he was in the process of reading; Magnolia's Slaughter. After a few moments of Bulma's silence, with her staring far off in the distance, he held his book up and asked her if she'd read it. She turned towards him with a few second's delay.
"Yes," she said, her voice low, her eyes knitted together. "That's the first one I read. I love the imagery." She took a deep breath, and then continued, her scrambled brain finally calmed. "You almost feel like you're in one of those battle scenes. I felt so dirty after I read it that I took a shower. Felt like I was covered in blood, instead of Magnolia."
"Yeah," he commented, closing the book on his lap. "I'm halfway through. She just cut her father's head off with that saw." He leaned over and set the book on his nightstand. "Took a damn page and a half to describe it."
"But you liked it, didn't you?" she asked, curling her lip.
"Who wouldn't?" came his reply. He slipped off the bed and pulled on the boots he'd discarded upon entering the room.
"Where're you going?"
"The stupid antique shop."
"Well I want to go!" she all but pouted.
"Why the hell else would I go back there?" he snapped. "Now hurry up. I want to finish that book tonight."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Yamcha switched uneasily from one foot to the other, his eyes darting back and forth along the narrow street in search of the blonde bombshell drummer he was supposed to meet. Several times he almost lost his nerve, only to remind himself that he was there for Bulma and that nothing should keep him from making his proposal.
"Yamcha!"
The voice was loud enough to startle him into a near fit. When he finally located the source, he was staring deep into the big blue eyes of 18 Gero. He was almost too stunned by her beauty—and the fact that she was one of the most famous rockstars in the business; in the world—that he could barely choke out a hello.
"So, you've called me here about Bulma, correct?"
"Yeah," he said, forcing away all thoughts other than his project at hand. If he was going to get over Bulma, and help her out in the process, then this was the perfect way to go about it. He hoped.
"Well, let's go inside. It's too muggy out here and I have a craving for tea."
"You're Japanese," he pointed out. "You'll always have a craving for tea."
Her laughter was sufficient enough to finally break the ice for him and he opened the door to the café, motioning for her to go first.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The moment Vegeta walked through the door of the Townsend antique shop, the owner, the middle-aged woman from a few days before, came rushing towards him, grabbing his arm frantically. It took him a moment to realize why she was acting so strange and excited to see him; she was holding a copy of the picture she'd taken of him.
"So," he laughed, shrugging her away. "I see your daughter liked what she saw."
"Holy Kami! She almost fainted on the spot!" the woman cried. "I need your autograph."
"You have my check," he reminded her.
"I cashed it!"
"Baka," he snarled, taking a pen off the front desk and scribbling his signature on a small note pad. "There, now she can faint for real." He turned from her, ignoring her suppressed squeals of delight, only to find that Bulma was no longer at his side. "Where the hell did she go?"
"Down the hall," the owner replied as she dialed the desk phone and turned from him.
Moments later he found her in exactly the place he figured she'd be; the library. She was perched atop the ladder, a book open on her lap, her eyes moving fluidly across the page. For a minute all he could do was stare at her, the innocent way she was just sitting there and reading; a big smile crept onto his face. And, as she finally looked up, he fought to enforce his scowl.
"I found this great book," she announced, waving him over. "It's a Sayoko Wakai novel. The first one she wrote. She was only thirteen, but the book didn't get published until she was in her thirties. And she's lucky for that, too. One of the first woman writer's of her time." She held the book out for him to see. Again, it was a tattered, barely held together book. Didn't she read anything that was printed before the 16th century? "See." She pointed to the drawing on the title page, a hideously beautiful depiction of a dragon eating a samurai whole. The caption beneath it read: Atasuke in his final battle with Kaan the Dragon. "The story isn't as cheesy as the picture though. Atasuke actually stabs the dragon over a hundred times, though, just as he's about to pierce it's heart, his adversary, Sharaku, runs at them and tackles Atasuke to the ground. The picture doesn't show that Sharaku was devoured first. But, it's all good, because Atasuke regains consciousness in Kaan's belly and slices him open with his dagger. Very bloody scene, or so I'd imagine."
After her small speech about the book, she looked up at Vegeta, only to be startled as his eyes were already on her. She doubted he'd heard a word of what she'd said.
"I'm going to buy it," she managed to say, and eased herself off the ladder, which only brought her even more uncomfortably close to him. "It's a copy from the 18th century. Not very valuable."
"You know woman," he all but purred, placing a hand on a rung of the ladder, thereby enclosing her. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were purposely avoiding looking at me. Tell me you don't feel that tension."
"The only thing I am feeling is INSTENSE annoyance at you. Let me by."
"You really should give me a shot," he continued, ignoring her demand. "I don't understand you. You're the only woman who knows I'm a star and doesn't tremble when I talk."
"Then I must be the only practical woman you know."
"What do you have to lose?"
"Dignity."
"One more date," he pressed, his face inching towards hers. For a second, she almost leaned in.
"No."
"No cameras. I promise. No one will find us where I'll take you."
"That sounds like a line from a bad horror movie. Now get out of my way, I want to go home and look at this."
"Or get away from me?"
"Both," she snapped, shoving at him. This only furthered his desire, and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, pressing his lips to hers. This time, she didn't hesitate, and pushed at him so hard that he had to take a few steps to regain balance. "I'm not going to fall for you, Vegeta, so you can forget it. I know how you are, you even admitted so yourself. Why on earth would I put myself through something like that? And for a jerk who could care less about a single soul other than himself?" She sighed deeply, suddenly feeling sorry for having pushed him so hard. "Look, I'm sorry about shoving you, but when a girl says no she means it. I'll hang out with you, yes. I'll discuss Anzai with you if you want, ok. But a date? Come on Vegeta, be serious. We clash, and besides, I'm not interested in you, and the only reason you're interested in me is for the challenge. So let's go back to your house, watch a movie with your mother and eat popcorn, ok?"
"You know I can't stand my mother," he said, as if not hearing all of what she'd said.
"Yes, I'm aware. And if there's one thing I want to accomplish out of our friendship it's getting you two to be civil with each other. Well, more like getting you to forgive her for whatever you think she's done to you."
"Did you say friendship?" he balked, shaking his head.
"Why? What's wrong with that? We hang out, share interests, fight. What else is there to a friendship?"
"I'm not 'friends' with girls."
"You're friends with 18. Why am I so different?"
"Because," he explained, as he made for the door; Bulma followed suit. "I'm trying to get into your pants. We can't be friends."
"You'll never succeed," she laughed. "Face it, buddy. We're friends."
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18 shook her head slowly as she sipped her tea. After hearing Yamcha's proposition, and weighing everything out, she'd come to the conclusion that what he was asking was too much. It not only put Bulma's emotions at stack, but those of everyone around her, including 18 herself.
"I just don't think it'll work," she sighed, setting her cup down. "Do you realize what could happen if it doesn't work? How many people could be hurt? Yourself included."
"Yes, I know." He hadn't touched his tea. "But I just don't see it not working. I don't understand how it could backfire. Sure, Bulma is stubborn and closed-off, but I really see something there. If it doesn't work, I'm the only one to blame. All I want from you is the information. If she gets angry, I'll take the fall."
"It's so risky though. I mean, how the hell are you going to pull it off in the first place? Let alone force her into a situation that may back her into a corner. She'll hate you."
"But if it works she'll be happy."
"You would risk that to make her happy?" she asked, arching her brow. Never had she seen such dedication to a single person. What she was seeing now was love, no question.
"Of course I would. We wouldn't be having this conversation if I wasn't willing to risk it all."
"Kami," she sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Well, if you can set things up, then I'm in."
"Great!" he nearly yelled, a huge grin stretching across his features.
"Just remember that you're toying with other people's lives, Yamcha."
"I know. It's not a game. I'm really giving it my all. Thank you so much!"
"Don't mention it. But hey, I think I'm gonna split. I'll call you when I have something, ok?"
"Sounds great."
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As Bulma and Vegeta emerged from the antique shop, a strange sight caught her eye, and she couldn't simply continue walking.
"What?" Vegeta growled as she stopped in the street.
"Over there." She pointed to a small café down the street. "That's my ex-boyfriend, and he's with 18."
"Yeah, what's the big deal?"
"Yamcha doesn't know her. How the hell—"
"Forget about it. I'll ask her later, ok?"
"Alright," she replied hesitantly.
As they climbed into his car, parked just outside of Townsend, Vegeta suddenly asked Bulma something that would change their relationship from then on. And though the words seemed simple, they illustrated a whole new meaning.
"So, what movie are we watching?"
They were now officially friends.
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The next morning Bulma awoke to the sound of someone banging on her bedroom door. When she finally forced herself out of bed and to the door, her mother was nearly in hysterics.
"What?" she yawned, glaring at her. It was only 10:00 am, on a Saturday.
"There's a package for you."
"Yeah, what's so great about that? I order stuff all the time."
"I know," her mother sighed playfully, handing her the box. "But this is different. Look. It only says 'Bulma' on it. Someone hand delivered it. Bulma, dear, you have an admirer."
"Mom, stop talking crazy. Sheesh. It's probably just from Chi or Krillin."
"Nope."
"And how do you know?"
"Because, silly, I saw the boy who left it for you. Thought no one was awake."
"So who was it?"
"Just open the package, dear. Breakfast is on the table."
As Bulma shut the door, her wondered if her mother was on any medication that she didn't know about. Taking a seat on her bed, she carefully pulled the tape off the box, finding it stuffed to the brim with packaging peanuts. She shoved most of them out of the box, and onto her bed, until she came to the contents; a large rectangular object wrapped in a sheet.
She yet out a gasp.
"No," she told herself. "It's a coincidence."
But, as the sheet revealed the object, her heart fluttered and she nearly squealed.
Immediately she grabbed her phone and dialed the number she'd been given last night. One ring. Two rings. Three—
"Hello?" came a groggy and annoyed voice.
"Yes," she said excitedly, still clutching the present to her chest.
"Yes what?"
"Yes I'll go on another date with you."
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---Chapter 12! Well, well, well, would you look at that? Vegeta and Bulma going on a date? One they both actually want to go on? It looks like things may be heating up for them. Woo! Could this be the beginning of something? :D
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters) And I mean it.
Next time: The date? Hmm…maybe. Let's see where I go with this :P