It had not been a whole day- not a whole class session- before word of Vegeta was about all the halls of the school like an uncontrollable wild fire; girls were huddled together, whispering frantically with flushed cheeks and whimpers of swooning. Boys were disgruntled, sending off snide remarks of how they could still defeat him, or shaking off the fact that the exchange student now looked like the one to not tolerate such antics without a great fight.

Bulma slammed the door of her Capsule car a little too hard before shoving herself back onto her seat in annoyance and anger. All day. All day long, it was 'Vegeta this' and 'Vegeta that'. She and her buddy 18 were still trying to shake off the morning's encounter-no thanks to the student body.

Even the teachers- for Dende's sake even the teachers!- were in a state of awe or jealousy. However, they could not be as petty as the students; not to mention Vegeta was always a good student and excelled in his classes. The staff was just relieved that one of their brightest students hadn't turned into a mindless meathead over the summer.

And Vegeta, walking around as if nothing had changed, ignored it all; seemed completely unaware of the pointing and staring of the students and staff. Ate his packed lunch in the cafeteria-the same place where he always sat, quietly took his notes in class and did his assignments, and warded off any direct comments with a grunt. And what's worse, despite Bulma and Vegeta both taking IB Lit together, he'd managed to not acknowledge her presence even once in class.

The bluette shoved her key into the ignition and the vehicle hummed to life. It irked her just thinking about it, and she wanted nothing more than to get home. She was just about to step on the gas, but a group of students stopped right in front of her car. It was four girls, clearly freshmen, who had paused to look back at the school. They all bounced on their little freshmen toes with glee, to which Bulma rolled her eyes.

"Oh for the love of..." she never finished her sentence; she spotted Vegeta exiting the school in all of his muscular glory, backpack slung over one shoulder, chiseled expression set to neutral. As he trotted down the steps, Bulma blatantly admired the way his t-shirt bounced against him, pushing closer to him before falling away; giving her imagination teasers.

Engine still running, she watched the young man while he headed through the parking lot and stopped at an old looking black car- had Vegeta always driven, Bulma wondered- slim and rather plain. He opened the door, tossed his bag in before seating himself inside and closing the door with enough firmness that the bluette could hear it faintly. It wasn't until his engine was on that Bulma remembered she had been sitting there the entire time, wasting gas for a little bit of glimpsing.

"What are you doing Bulma?" she asked herself roughly, buckling in and setting her sights on anything but that black car with a firm press on the gas. The stragglers in front of her car had long since made their way home, Bulma not sure when, much to her chagrin.

However, as soon as she hit the gas, she slammed on the brakes, for she nearly smacked clear into the car that had quickly peeled in front of her. It honked immediately upon noticing her pulling out and too screeched to a sudden halt.

In the haze of adrenaline, Bulma was too afraid to see anything beyond that she had nearly gotten someone hurt because she was distracted. It wasn't until seconds later that she noticed the car, still frozen in its spot, black and plain. Bulma turned red as a tomato when she saw the driver glaring at her.

Vegeta's expression was disbelief and disgust, his hands in a gesture that was clearly asking what the fuck she was doing. Bulma could only stare as he turned his attention back to the lot in front of him, shaking his head, face still livid. She couldn't hear it, but his face alone could tell her what he was saying wasn't pretty-or in English for that matter. Still angrily cursing her (Bulma was sure), he stepped hard on the gas and his car pulled off to the lot's exit, and was gone.

Bulma blinked rapidly, shock slowly wearing off. It took a few slow breaths to really gather herself again. Another close call like that, and she'd have more to worry about than some grumpy, mildly attractive teenager. She was about to pull off again, that is until her phone beeped with a text alert. Picking up her cell, she read the new text that flashed on her screen:

'Way to go! That ought to teach him not to mess with us!'

Bulma rolled her eyes and tossed her phone back onto the passenger seat. Eighteen could be so demented at times.

Making sure there were no more cars were driving in front of her, Bulma slowly peeled out of the lot. She made to the exit and was soon on the main road home, silently on the lookout for a black and plain car.

"Hey, Blue, heard about the scarin' you gave Vegeta today!" ChiChi greeted once Bulma opened the door. Her older friend had changed from her rather fancy school outfit to more comfortable attire: some hugging dark green denims and a nude tone, low-cut, V-neck tee. Her heels had been replaced with some basic trainers and her blunt, ink black hair was let down from its ever famous bun. She looked far more approachable in her current state, but claimed to Bulma that she had to keep appearances to "track the right mate", according to her.

All the same, Bulma quickly shushed ChiChi's high tone with an urgent wave of hands. "Shhhh! The parents!" she hissed lowly. ChiChi had the decency to wince in apology, and Bulma opened the door wider to let her pal in.

The Brief's home was one of luxury. It had a tall ceiling, sparkling marble floors, and top of the line furniture that complimented and pulled the place together. The living room mostly consisted of warm, dark reds and browns, while the spacious kitchen was black, white and silver, and the bathrooms were flourished in hues of blues and greens. Bulma's room, she did with her own since of style, which was semi-opposing like her parent's neat, upscale taste. She went for a nice, lavender accent wall covered in photos of her trips and summer vacations. The rest was a plain, but large vanity littered with her make-up and hair products. Her walk-in closet was stuffed with clothes and shoes she barely wore, along with tools and gadgets she had slipped from her father's workplace to tinker with on her own time. There was also a desk/work station off to the corner, and its surface too was covered with things: books, a CPU that she'd built, oil stained rags, a few office supplies, a printer and lamp.

Bulma's bed was her favorite, as it was plush and covered in printed sheets of her favorite Pow Pow Kitty characters. She had the plush toys of the engineer cat and crew all over her bed, underneath, and along the edges like a shrine. But she'd grown up with the cartoon show, and it had inspired her as a little girl, so why not keep the tradition going? For the most part, her room looked messy and exactly like a teenager's room should look.

Both girls quickly walked inside and closed the door behind them. Bulma tossed her bag carelessly at her desk while ChiChi laid hers next to the bed. They took a moment to rearrange the slew of plushies and plop heavily on the soft comforter before the brunette spoke again, this time minding her tone. "So, this afternoon."

Bulma groaned and dropped her head back. Her eyes rolled in annoyance of it all, partial embarrassment, and the need to talk about anything that wasn't Vegeta. "C'mon, Chi. Haven't you heard enough of him already? All over school and now he's invading my sanctuary of a bedroom?"

ChiChi giggled at her friend's dramatics, immune to them. "Be as it may, it's the best thing I've heard all day about him. So, did you wreck his car? Scare 'em straight? Raise his insurance rates?"

"It- it wasn't like that!" Bulma waved away the questions defensively. She felt her face prickle with heat from embarrassment. "I wasn't paying attention, and we pulled out at the same time-!"

"Oh. So it wasn't a vengeful attack to regain our wounded honor?" ChiChi frowned in disappointment, her interest depleting almost immediately.

The bluette had to laugh at that. "No, sorry."

"What's she sorry for?" came a feminine drone from the door. Both girls looked up just in time to see Eighteen slip inside, just after waving at Bulma's mother in thanks. She shut the door and deposited the bag, rushing over the bed to get in on the story. Her short, blonde hair bounced when she all but dove on the mattress next the teens, knocking over a few Pow Pows in the process. Bulma made to protest, but she was cut off but her electric friend.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. That punk got exactly what was comin to him!" Eighteen declared.

Bulma sputtered to protest that too, but ChiChi intervened, looking at her nails dismissively. "She didn't do it. On purpose. Bul's just a lousy driver."

"Chi!"

Eighteen's eyes widened and she looked from her brunette friend to the bluette with betrayal in her ice blue eyes. She leaned away then, touching her hand to her chest in overplayed hurt. "You bitch." she gasped. It earned her a hard shove from Bulma, and they all laughed off the friendly banter.

"I can't believe you!" the blonde cried once the laughter died down. "And here I thought we were gonna get together and make plans to destroy the twerp! I thought I was gonna get in on some high-time misery. I ditched my brother for this!"

"Well too bad! Mr. Deaton dropped an end-of-the-week test, and you're gonna help me with it, you literature geniuses!" Bulma stood from her bed, ignoring Eighteen's wail of protest, and the pout from ChiChi. "Not to mention I'm starting IB Universal Studies, so at least with you two here, I can knock one thing out and know I don't have to stay up all night!" She opened her book bag and pulled out both textbooks. Not to sound like a dork, Bulma had to admit to herself that she was really excited about learning what the other planets in the universe held in store. It was a huge dream of hers to be able to travel to them one day and meet the people. She tossed both books on her bed and settled in with her mildly complaining buddies.

Oh Snaps! What's this? A new chapter? After YEARS?! Oh yeah, baby. Oh yeah.

If you really like this story, let me know. Constantly. I'm a master procrastinator though. And honestly, I didn't know where I was gonna go with this one, and it was gon' die. But alas, a plot has begin to spin. More in the future. More about Vegeta.