I'm sorry to interrupt before you start reading the chapter, but please doheed the WARNING: Vegeta's thoughts may be crude and vulgar (from now on till the end of the story), but give the guy a break; he's in an M rated fic, alright?
Upon realizing that this time I hit the jackpot, my posture straightened by what seemed my body's own accord and I quietly closed the door, jumping to the self-defense act of politeness. My idiotic weak heart leapt a beat as it registered in my mind that I'm in the same room as Him . . . My limbs felt numb and I can't even begin to comprehend what I just said to the whole class, and need I mention how much I'm proud of the mysterious ways my mind "shuts off", making it impossible for others to see it does. . . My head moved in a well-mannered bow and I wished it could stay low against my collarbone forever as I knew what would be the first thing my traitorous eyes would scan the room for and find immediately once I lifted it up . . .
With an inaudible sigh to anyone but myself I looked at my new classmates yet those betrayer eyes of mine, as I figured before it even happened, instantaneously landed on his form in the back of the room, sitting by himself on the two-seated desk. What came as a surprise to me, even though it shouldn't have, was not that his lurid aura had even intensified, amplified by the elapsed few years more, and most definitely not his crossed arms over his chest that was a trademark of his even two years ago, but rather the fact how much he had changed . . . No, how much he had grown up . . .
I had no time to ogle at him as the teacher mumbled something to me about my seating. I wasn't stupid; I could see my seat from my position. It was the only available option as the class consisted of twenty-seven people – twenty-eight counting me – and there were only fourteen two-seated desks, the last vacant one next to my voluptuous prince. I wasn't quite sure if I should have jumped up in joy or gone dig a hole in the ground and writhed in it till I died . . .
Without a tone of resistance whatsoever my legs moved on their own, saving me from an even more embarrassing situation than the one I got into after bursting through that door like that and I walked with a grace to be envied for unceremoniously next to him, trying to ignore my intermittent pulse and the power with which the blood literally slammed into my ear drums, making the cycle of the crimson liquid in my body now fully audible for me to hear. I didn't utter a sound as the chair I was forced to choose screeched against the wooden floor with a scarring sound which I paid next to no attention at all.
By the time I was fully aware and capable to react coherently to anything, the teacher had already begun droning on about the rules I have heard three times already, the prohibitions I never broke and the students' rights that I used to my fullest whenever given the chance to. My eyes kept fidgeting to their very boundaries set by the pair of my lids trying to catch a decent glimpse at him.
I must say that even though I am well acquainted with the fact boys start growing rapidly after their tenth grade, the change in him caught me completely off-guard and could've knocked me off my solid feet if he wasn't actually present in the room within eyeshot as well as a throng of strangers I have never seen in my life and preferred not to humiliate myself before of until at least I have learnt their names. I am not sure why his utter transformation had baffled me so . . . Perhaps it was that I always thought him perfect in every possible way that I couldn't imagine him becoming better . . . There couldn't possibly be any better, the borders of my imagination always screamed in ecstasy, engaging in another fit of girlish fantasies afterwards, but he proved me wrong once again.
The last time I saw him his face still had a trace of infancy, a note of that adorable childish ignorance and innocence hidden well in the corners of his eyes, cheeks, curvy full lips . . . Now his jaw line was stronger, his elegantly pointy nose and robust profile of a masculine beauty solidifying his aristocratic radiance. His once pre-adolescent glow that made him beautiful, in a slightly genderless manner, was lost to the massive blow of his puberty kicking in. There could be no question now that he was perfect in every possible way now – perfectly and well emphasized male features accentuating on his masculinity more than ever, making me shift uncomfortably in my seat as I felt a brisk fire ablaze between my legs.
His expression spoke volumes of the same intolerable boredom I felt as well, though he had the audacity I didn't not to hide any of it. I observed those plump lips of his, the lower slightly ampler than the other, as his pinkish tongue licked them to keep them satisfyingly moist, making me shift my eyes away from him as I felt a sharp stab in my gut as an assault of warmth washed my innards from inside.
The teacher was now announcing who our teachers for the year will be for every different subject, reminded us to hurry with choosing a subject to master in upcoming University and the rest of his speech I ignored as I noticed that Vegeta's coal black eyes were now fixed on me, his arms on his chair which he had pushed back and looked painfully close to falling on his back.
I turned my head around ever so slowly when I noticed that my desk-mate would still not stop staring at me shamelessly, uncaring that I have actually caught him while at it. My eyes kept returning to his form shifting from looking forward to the corners, catching mere meek glimpses at him still studying me, his head cocking to the side every once in a while, as if trying to remember something . . .
The last thought made my blood freeze in my veins. Remember something . . . Oh, no, please don't remember me, as ironic as it may sound. I don't want him to remember me, I don't want him to recall that idiotic encounter in ninth grade, please don't remember . . .
My heart started pounding mercilessly against my ribcage knocking the wind out of me and I could swear I turned paler than usual at the thought of the way he'd look at me throughout the entire year during which we would sit together . . . I wouldn't be able to bear the nauseating stare of his, looking at me as though I'm filth on his shoes, as though I'm inferior than he is . . . Thinking of the claustrophobia that would embrace my entire being through the year if he recalled who I was, if he remembered whom the name I have belonged to made my breath quicken with the scary idea.
He crossed his hands again and leant on the desk, his head resting on his crisscrossed arms, and dark gaze directed straight at me. I swallowed dryly and quietly enough for him not to notice my nervousness that only my body's secretions could hint, like my profusely sweating brows. He just stared and stared at me, as if trying to read something hidden in my eyes that I never managed to see in my mirror's reflection. I'm not really sure, but I think I stared back at him with the same indifferent yet slightly curious expression he gave me.
Now that he was closer to me by leaning forward, I caught an odd whiff of an unknown aroma – a sharp, chocking scent, masculine in its entire bitter sweet smelling glory. The essence penetrated my nostrils ruthlessly, settling comfortably in the back of my tongue, leaving a lingering thick feeling long after initially inhaled. The stifling odour stratified in my mouth with each breath I took, mesmerizing me and sending me hurling into a state of delirium where I could completely enjoy the knowledge that I was close enough to Vegeta to catch the scent of his body . . . And then the most puzzling thing for me happened.
"Are you an asthmatic?"
He spoke.
Music to my ears was that deep baritone of his, a caress to my ear drums. I have never, even in my bravest dreams and reveries, thought that he would actually speak to me. And then my proud spoilt self that I have somehow lost throughout these years of insane obsession finally kicked in when my brain registered what he had said.
My eyes reduced to mere malicious slits and I glared heatedly at him.
"Excuse me?" I gagged out, disbelieving my ears. Of all the things he could've said, of all the ways to start a conversation, to make a first impression on me, a stranger, a newcomer, he had to ask me something so . . . preposterous! Not to mention it was completely uncalled for and out of the blue. He shrugged and smirked at me in amusement, shattering what little backbone I grew for a second, making the only thing I could register the racing repeating thought in my head: ohmigod, he smirked at me, he smirked at me, he smirked at me . . .!
"It seems to me you have difficulty breathing and the other thing I could've asked would make heads turn our way." His expression changed to a demure smile that held a very impish glitter in it that made me whip my head forward sharply otherwise he would've noticed the pink flush that had all of a sudden risen to my face. Of all the years I lived, incapable of blushing, of my face adorning with any other colour than its natural faint white one, I had to choose today to start flushing. God hates me, it's official now.
I could still see with my periphery vision that his handsome face still held that evil grin as he continued looking at me, obviously aware how uncomfortable that made me and enjoying torturing my petty self. I think his sudden interest in me that sparked out of no where in particular made me feel more claustrophobic than when he was ignoring me. My hands were in tremors but thank goodness under the desk in my lap so he couldn't see that. I had my poker face on, but I knew my determination would falter any moment. Wouldn't yours if you had the object of your desire for four entire years sit next to you, staring at you the same unwavering way you looked at him during all those times, thinking he'd never as much as acknowledge your existence? Then imagine he finally does . . . What can you possibly do to make your rapidly beating heart cease because your breath wouldn't ease any other way? Tell me just how would you react in my place?
The bell rang faintly in the back of my mind, meekly registered at all, pulling me out of my misery as Mr. Piccolo said we (maggots was the word he used . . . as unprofessional as it seemed to me . . .) are free to go since he didn't want to see our 'mugs' for the remaining part of the day. And that was truly my cue to leave.
I grabbed my backpack which I have no idea why I brought anymore, or what I carried inside of it since he still wouldn't let go of me with those haunting dark eyes of his, reducing my mind to a jumble of fleeting insignificant ideas of thoughts, and I stormed out of the classroom in most dignified way I could muster, my mask shattering in millions of pieces once I was sure I was out of his sight. My cheeks burnt, my limbs were numb from the monstrous amount of blood that coursed through them every second with every intermittent pump of my heart, and my legs felt like jelly and rather unstable as if I'd fall down any second after each stride I made. But thank goodness none of my fears came true and I was soon inside my house, the door slamming behind me, kicked shut in a bad habit of mine built for years and years, and I was finally free to collapse head-first in my pillow and beg the Gods for mercy on my wretched stalker's soul for the vengeance with which they punished my sins. Oh, please, please, don't let him be so adorable and arousing tomorrow, oh, please, please, please . . . I don't know how much longer I can hold on until I break down in front of him, or even worse – jump him . . .
Seeing how the girl got flustered after his comment caused Vegeta to grin widely inwardly, wondering how it was that he had never had this much fun annoying any other of his conquests. It was true; last year had been a complete success concerning his sexually frustrated body, and more specifically an organ below his midriff he hadn't used properly until then, that yearned for release granted by something different than his hand . . . Even before he was a teaser and he showed it during his intercourses too, though his bed mates never really showed any signs they minded it or anything . . .
But now with this girl it was too much fun. She had this . . . how could he call it? She had this steadfast expression on her face with determination not to fall for his charms that he didn't even have to work on to catch a girl's attention usually. She had deliberately ignored his presence and he had been right next to her. Now that was something he didn't see every day, and naturally, it caught his attention.
However, when this Bulma person finally spoke, it was exultation for his rotten soul which enjoyed other's pain when she looked at him as if he had just slapped her ass. She was so amusing and in the same time so stiff and tense. She needed to relax. Besides, she didn't look like she had many friends . . .
Getting up in a swift graceful move Bulma would've surely appreciated highly, he ventured over to a small group of people, an evil scheme in his mind already . . .
An hour after the initial impact with the 'boy of her dreams', the heiress was finally able to bash herself out of all obtrusive daydreams and insidious fantasies that made her heart and knees wobble slightly and she managed to maintain control over her whole body and assure herself that next time she met him she would be prepared better and wouldn't let him know a thing about how easily he could use her, how she could be just like jelly in his hands . . . Nodding at the last thought, she departed from her bedroom towards the nearest kitchen for something to drink and feast on in light of her decision.
However, she didn't go really far as her foot froze in mid-air when she heard moving downstairs. And when she said movement, she meant many people moving downstairs. Her father didn't have any friends anymore, nor did he have living relatives, and Bulma was the incarnation of unsociability, meaning naturally she had no friends either. As a matter of fact, a few people she had met during her life-span reached barely a level where they would tolerate her eternal grumpiness, stillness or her perpetual glare that wouldn't leave her features. But right then and there wasn't really the time or place to think about such things as a burglar had made the grave mistake of robbing the wrong house when there were a few hours till twilight too . . .
She moved slowly down the stairs and then she caught a glimpse of an erect flame-like hairdo and she recognized him immediately, notwithstanding that her tension didn't lift a bit and she even grew stiffer if it was humanly possible.
What's he doing here? The question crowded her mind and repeated in it over and over frantically, making her incapable of doing anything other than ogling at him, trying desperately to think fast of a course of action. He was looking around for something (or someone) and he hadn't yet figured she was standing on the edge of the stairs. When she gathered her wits and cut his path short just as he was going to take the way for the kitchen she had been headed to, he glared at her for a split second before crossing his arms.
"You should place maps in here – someone can get seriously lost," he informed her nonchalantly, motioning for the entrance of her huge compound of a house. She looked incredulously at him as if he had just groped her. Even though she tried to maintain her serious posture her mouth was slightly agape as she mimicked his stance and glared viciously back at him.
"How the hell did you get in here?" she snapped when she finally brought her vocal cords back online and actually capable of doing what they were created for. He lifted his dark eye brows at her as she had just told him the most surprising thing he had ever heard and he looked over his shoulder for a bit to make sure the entrance was still there.
"You know, people have those things called doors," he said the word slowly as if talking to a retarded child, making the female cock her head to the side in ire. "And I came through that one." He pointed over his powerful shoulder with his thumb striking out of his fist, making Bulma's glare intensify and her jaw shift as her irritation obviously grew. She took a deep breath to calm herself down before she retorted,
"Oh really, you did that?" He nodded off-handily, being one to hate repeating himself and taking a gilded trophy from the nearest shelf, studying it closely and obviously enjoying himself before the girl ripped it out of his grasp and placed it back where it belonged, making his attention return to her once more. "Honestly, I don't care how you got in, but I have a very good idea how you're going out." She was about to do as she threatened when he smirked at her in that way that sent her in delirium.
"Don't be so taut, I doubt it's healthy," he said, all the while smirking when he did. He turned his head away from her to the left, inserting two fingers in his mouth, whistling loud enough for the sound to reach the third story probably. Bulma glared heatedly at him for his audacity but it did not end there; oh most certainly it did not. He had to bellow atop his lungs, "Kakarot! I found her!" and almost break her ear drums before she realized that his first exclamation had to be a name.
"What the hell was that for?" she screeched incredulously, her arms stiff by her sides.
"You don't want them all over your house for the time being, do you? They're worse than cock roaches, I swear . . ." He chuckled, making her blood freeze in her veins for various reasons . . .
"Did you just say . . . them?" He nodded curtly, making Bulma's heart sink when she, indeed, heard people laughing approaching them, chit-chatting about something that they obviously found amusing. She slowly turned around to be met with her worst fear – a gang of strangers, all weird looking and making you doubt whether their mental health was fine at first impression . . . especially the guy with the hair all over the place . . .
"Whoa, Bulma, you certainly have a big house," the person in question said, running a strong hand through his thick unruly spikes.
"Yeah, I can easily find myself loving this place," the raven-haired girl next to him said with a toothy smirk which moved to the heiress. And our favourite inheritress herself was quite awestruck, if a word could even begin to cover the state of shock she was in.
You see, she had never been really social, what with the news of her mother's suicide all over the media and her father's aftermath newly discovered schizophrenia . . . Well let's just say people weren't really willing to talk to her, probably thinking all she'd do would be piss and moan about how fucked up her life was . . . but even back then no one knew her and they didn't even want to. She didn't blame them – if she was in their place she wouldn't want to know herself either! But that wasn't the point there, now was it? What mattered was that she had no social contacts, no one cared about her anymore and no one called her by her first name . . .
. . . And yet here were those . . . those strangers, barging into Capsule Corporation main building without any guards seizing them? And then again, those people didn't even look like they cared! Hell, they had the face of someone who just won a million dollars! Probably never seen a house this big, which was understandable, because— No, no, no! she screamed in her mind as it had trailed off in a completely different direction than the task she had on hand. Composing herself, she glared venomous daggers at those guys, even though a part of her, a part deep, deep, inside of her was touched by their attention and that they cared enough to come and see her in person for god-knows-what ridiculous reason.
"Look, I have no idea what the hell has got into those heads of yours, but I think you had your fun around here and it's about time you leave." She planned on pushing all of them out through the door, but instead got caught by the two girls present by her wrists and placed to sit on her couch . . . and not by her own free will, I should add.
"Man, Vegeta said you were stiff, but this goes beyond any boundaries, gal!" the blonde exclaimed with a coy evil grin.
"Yeah, you're almost as grumpy and short-tempered as he is!" The raven haired one laughed at her own joke, but Bulma didn't miss the sour look her dream man sent the amused female.
"If you try to do anything to me, I swear I'm going to scream so hard your ears will ring for months—"
"Aw, now don't be like that, Bulma." The strange-haired guy sat on the arm of the chair she was residing. She glared up at him with a firm scowl. He got up fast and decided that standing was a better idea . . .
"You should just relax and open up to people a little bit." A bald guy crouched down next to her (not that he wasn't short enough to be barely a few inches taller than her chair . . .) as he spoke.
"I don't even know you and you have the decency to tell me what I should and should not do in my own freaking house?" The heiress gave him a disbelieving look, making the other boy shrink back as well.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! She's a little spitfire, ladies and gentlemen . . ." Vegeta licked his bottom lip with a smirk after his comment and the sitting prey-to-be wasn't sure what to make of that. All she knew was that the tangled mush in her gut that had formed when she had first laid eyes on him made a painful wrench after the warm stab she received when initially hearing him speak. And his attitude right then didn't really help much for the growing heat between her thighs that she usually felt when seeing him (and especially this close).
"You can be really fun, girl! Don't be a spoil-sport. Come with us and we'll show you the great life filled with friendly joy and solitude!" The short bald guy had gathered his wits to talk again once Bulma's steaming glare had been smothered some by his flame-haired buddy.
"Although our clique is not really the best choice if it's peace and solitude you look for." The blonde and the brunette shared a sly glance before turning to their apprentice.
"What are you talking about?" Bulma finally managed to squeeze out between her numb lips. It wasn't her fault he just stood there, arms crossed, staring at her as if she was his meal! "I don't—"
"Of course you don't mean any of that, sweetie," the azure eyed light-haired girl smoothed her back, somehow leaving a feeling of mockery . . . "You're just a bit confused right now, but when the night's over, you'll feel a completely new person! Not to mention a bit more sociable too!" She chuckled and got up from the chair. "Now to introduce ourselves properly, because you'll just keep looking at us as if we come from outer space. I'm Juuhachigou Jinzoningen; it's a pleasure to meet you in person, miss Big-shot." Even though it should've sounded as jealous and greedy as Bulma was used to hear it, though not as frankly as the blonde had said it, this time it held no such emotion. It sounded more like the joke it was meant as . . .
"I'm Krillin Roshi and I believe I should introduce myself rightly after my girlfriend." The bald guy shook her hand politely, placing his free one on his obviously taller girlfriend's waist.
"Goku Son and I love your fridge!" The comment would've made her chuckle had it not been for her mouth hanging open and her hand that everyone seemed so keen to shake was as lifeless as her whole body felt. What the—? Who the—? How in Hell did they—? The nerve of those people!
"I'm ChiChi Mau and I really think we should've called before we got here . . ." The mid-short brunette said as she sent a glare towards this Goku person. Well, duh, at least one of them had to sport some brain activity!
What happened next struck her into an even deeper state of shock than before, though it could barely show on her already awestricken face . . .
Vegeta moved to stand right in front of her, making her look up at him.
"Hnh . . . Even though I find this completely useless since everyone in the school has at least heard of me," oh, she had heard of him alright . . . "but for the sake of the fact you'll be my desk-mate," was he implying something or it was just her, "I'm Vegeta Ouji." His hand moved forward for what she assumed (with a brain freeze) would be a handshake, but his limb cradled her chin instead and he gently pushed it up (closed) and she noted with a degree of immense self-consciousness that it had been slightly agape for a while. His smirk, from such a close proximity, looked even more dazzling . . . Oh, the agonizing soul-twisting close proximity to his body!
Bulma's stark mind and body weren't really sure whether to be thankful for Juuhachigou's hand that slapped the back of Vegeta's head and made him glare at her heatedly but it was worth the diversion to try and gather what remaining control she had over her body and try to bring it to function again. I mean, here were those people, those absolute strangers, barging inside her house, literally, and preaching of friendship and togetherness with them, those people she had never met before in her life before today in the classroom . . . They had to be as nuts as her mother . . . There was no other logical explanation to that . . .
"Stop hitting on her, you horny asshole! Don't you see she's in stupor?" The blonde's voice grew solid with anger directed at her friend who glared as maliciously back at her.
"Yes, and you have your share for causing it!" Bulma jumped to her feet suddenly, startling most occupants of the spacious living room connected with a small corridor to the front entrance of the house. "What the hell do you want? I don't even know you and you're already roaming free in my home? When's the last time you had a mental check in the hospital?"
"We're just a bit too rash when taking decisions." Krillin shrugged nonchalantly.
"I prefer the term 'spontaneous' to 'rash' . . ." the Goku person offered friendlily.
"Yeah and you looked like you could use some socializing lessons from us." ChiChi smiled sympathetically.
"Why didn't you wait until tomorrow when we would meet decently?" The cerulean haired girl exclaimed her question in a nearly shrill voice that she hadn't heard from herself in some time now . . .
"Oh, we hate the school and meeting with people in it." Goku explained.
"What? And just why the hell so?" Bulma's head whipped in his direction.
"Because most of the people in our class play roles in school, as goes the same for about any student in that shit hole," Vegeta clarified for her, making her arch a disbelieving eye-brow.
"You're kidding, right?" He rolled his midnight eyes. No, he wasn't . . .
"It's better to meet people in their natural environment."
"I'm not some wild animal to be met in my natural environment . . ." the blue-haired girl hissed. Goku patted her back with enough strength that could've knocked her off her feet had she not been seated already.
"And you just passed the test for normality." He tittered carelessly.
"I passed what?" she muttered dubiously while staring vacantly forward.
"Don't be such a wowser! Get on your feet and let's get going!" Krillin exclaimed, motioning everyone towards the door.
"Where are we going?" Bulma asked alarmed as the two girls grabbed both her elbows and were ready to drag her out of the compound if need be.
"We're celebrating our meeting and seeing how much you can take." Juuhachi nodded to herself and to the cerulean eyed girl next to her.
"How much what I can take?" She already feared the answer.
"Alcohol, of course! We can't have you puking your guts out when we get you to your first party as a senior in high school! You're a star, girl! You skipped a grade and did the impossible! We can't have outsiders seeing you hurl on parties!" ChiChi laughed.
"Besides, you'll have loads of fun, trust us!" Goku assured her after they found the key on the table in the small corridor and have locked the door to the compound – something even Bulma herself rarely did . . . simply because she couldn't bring herself to care.
Swallowing dryly, the heiress wondered just what she had involved herself in . . .
However, at the end of the night, she couldn't deny – she had the time of her life that night. Hell, she even knew how to play pool now! Even though, that didn't slide by pricelessly . . . She had another one of those heart-stopping moments when Vegeta leant nearly over her, trying to straighten her posture.
On the whole way towards the gang's usual hang out place Bulma had walked next to Vegeta and their bare shoulders (Curse this good weather! Why, why of all years this once had to have such a warm autumn!) touching briefly ever so often. Though the boy seemed to be quite ignorant of the innocent impact that repeated time and time again, Bulma's heart was in a knot of nerves that wrenched around it every time her skin touched his flesh, making her grow goosebumps. Again, she was thankful he wasn't paying much attention to anything else but the path in front of him; otherwise she would have turned bright red if their eyes so much as met . . .
When they got to the place, it was already twilight outside because they had so much fun talking, laughing and everything on their way over. They began with a harried explanation of the game objectives for Bulma who had never even seen a pool table in her life, and Vegeta, being her partner in the game (no one noticed that the moment they served her the news she had gripped at her pool stick like cringing to a lifeline), had taught her how to play properly, being the sore loser he was. And, as he had mentioned, Vegeta Ouji never lost a game, no matter the kind.
And he had been right. Bulma proved to be quite a prodigy at this and her efforts proved worth it when she saw Vegeta's exultant expression as well as the odd sparkle in his eyes. She had smiled distantly, drifting off in thought, trying to print in the image in her mind to treasure . . .
Then they had started drinking, making the heiress try all sorts of alcoholic drinks she had never heard of in her life and, after the third shot of whatever, she found every following glass sweet as melon. Of course, at the end of the night, she looked dead-drunk, but she was finally able to smile for all of them without a second thought. She had also recovered from her initial shyness and finally confided in their madness as well.
All in all, it was one heck of a night . . .
I staggered across my room with the last remains of my drifting consciousness as it had taken quite some nerve to stay dignified along the guys, slumping on my bed and collapsing on my back instantly upon impact. I can say it aloud (though it will be later when I can actually talk coherently) that this was officially the best day in my entire life-time.
At first I have to admit I was both baffled and annoyed by those people's audacity and boldness at coming to the house of a complete stranger and the fact they were so sure of themselves and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer only managed to tick me off to a certain degree, but then I actually thought about it clearly . . . I mean, just realizing that they cared enough about an alien in their class, on their last year of high school nonetheless, to come and try to cheer me up and lead me in this entirely new world void of loneliness and boredom and darkness . . . It was so touching and it made me feel . . . human, for the first time in my life . . .
They didn't pity me and they didn't envy me – the two behaviours towards me that I was used to. They just wanted me to be a part of their fun, to let go of my worries and relax . . . And when I did they didn't disappoint me. I know it already that I love those people, truly, I do . . . And I think that I have finally attained this thing that people like to call 'friends' . . . and my heart is swimming with joy.
Oh, who am I fooling? The guys are great, perfect! But I'm still me – the spoilt selfish rich girl and all I could think about was that I was close to Vegeta, for the first time in my life, for the first time since I got to obsessed . . . He even touched me, though not with the intentions I (am not too sure) wanted him to. We got befriended, something I would've never honestly thought would happen to me yesterday night . . . Who knows, maybe tomorrow . . . maybe tomorrow (speaking purely metaphorically, of course!) we could even get closer than just friends . . . After all, last night I had never been within a few feet distance to him, and now I could call him Vegeta, as freely as I wished, knowing he would turn his head around from whatever he was doing just to see what I was 'bothering him about' . . . because he's my friend . . .
This is the happiest day of my life . . .
After Chapter Note About Their School's Policy:
Orange Star High, in this fic, is a high specialized school where people enter different classes in which they study one subject more than all others. The school has five specialties: two math-centered classes (A and B), one physics class (C), two biology classes (D and E), two chemistry classes (F and G) and one geography class (H). What does this strengthened subjects studying consist in? Well, for an example, if the biologists have five math classes in eighth grade a week, like all other regular schools, the mathematicians have ten, and vice versa – if the biologists have three biology classes a week in eight grade, the mathematicians have two – like all regular schools. It isn't only the fact that in OSH they have more classes – their level is entirely different to that of your every day public high school. To enter it in the first place students have to take two exams – an easy math exam and an exam on the subject they want to master: the biologists take biology; the physicists take physics et cetera, et cetera. Even though the first exam is easy, the second makes most students break a sweat.
Graduates have to take another exam to receive their diplomas and anyone who takes the final exam with an A can enter any University in the country they wish. Also, their twelfth grade is more like their first year in University more than anything, and that's the reason most of OSH students have an easy freshman year after high school. What makes it impossible to skip a grade is the fact, especially in eleventh, that physicists have a really hard time – though mathematicians are renowned to be the smartest in their school, the physicists have to know as much as they do and to be able to apply it in their exercises. All in all, eleventh grade is when you take two ordinary high school grades – eleventh and twelve, so that the following year you can have the first of University's. It is purely ridiculous that any normal human can skip, because the teachers are already applying inhumane pressure with the physics studies. That's why everyone was so baffled to know they have a new class-mate, who has skipped.