According to my document, I've spent 633 minutes editing this chapter.
Trunks sits far away from me in the backseat of the limo. His whole body seems tense, especially his jaw, as he stares out his window. He's angry, or most likely disappointed, with how our date is going. It doesn't take a genius to know that our date is a complete failure. The silence between us drags on. My ego bristles at the thought of Trunks ending the date prematurely.
"Be nice to him. My brother has been looking forward to this date for a long time." Bulla's words from earlier echo.
I unclench my left fist and slowly move my hand across the leather seat. My heartbeat quickens. His right hand is just out of my reach, so I slowly retract. Trunks senses the movement.
"How… how was my graduation?" I blurt out nervously, pulling my hand back one second after Trunks turns away from the window. My ears are ringing and sweat collects beneath my armpits. I've never been the one to initiate contact with Trunks first, it's terrifying! How does he seem to do it so easily?
Trunks arches his brow, no doubt noticing my aborted attempt to hold his hand." I don't know. You told me not to go to your graduation, remember?"
I let out a nervous laugh. " Oh, right! Yep, I did say that. Sorry. . . I just thought that maybe you'd come anyway since your sister was graduating too. Did Bulma record the whole thing? I'd love to have a copy!"
Unless I have another PTSD flashback, I'm probably never going to remember my graduation, the most important day of my teenage life.
"I heard you fell off the stage when they handed out your diploma," Trunks smirks.
I gasp." Are you serious?"
Well, maybe it's a good thing I can't remember my graduation.
Trunks slides across the seat so quickly I don't have time to pull back or think of turning away. His blue, humorless eyes entrap me. All I can see is him. I lick my lips, preparing myself for his advances. He makes no attempt to kiss me, though. After a few heart pounding moments, Trunks presses the back of his hand against my forehead.
"You don't have a fever," Trunks mutters, sounding disappointed. "There's something off about you lately, Pan. I can't figure out what it is."
Once again, uncertainty washes over me. Dr. Uub said I was just having vivid flashbacks caused by my PTSD, and husband-Trunks insisted that time travel was impossible without a time machine. . . but, I'm not so sure. If I told the Trunks in front of me that we marry in the future and he has an affair with his best friend's girlfriend, would he believe me?
"My memory has been a little foggy lately," I admit. If I told Trunks the truth, my flashback would end, and I'd find myself back at home trying to deal with a reality I'm not ready to confront just yet.
Trunks studies me. Maybe he knows that I'm hiding something, or maybe he's finally noticed that we're alone in the backseat, and our lips are within inches of touching. I close my eyes and angle my chin, encouraging him to make the first move. We both know I don't have the guts to do it.
"You're different," Trunks whispers, stroking my cheek. I can't stop myself from leaning into his touch." But in a good way."
He kisses me so intensely that I fall back onto the seat with him on top of me.
Our tongues clash together, and I bunch my fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt, eliciting a soft moan from him. He lowers more of his body onto me, knowing that I can take his weight, and needing to feel the pressure of my body against his. My thighs quiver, and I know that soon kissing won't be enough to satisfy me.
"Do you want me to stop?" Trunks asks when I break apart from our kissing long enough to catch my breath. We both know we should stop before our hormones take over. I shake my head at the offer and allow my hands to explore the sculpted abs beneath his shirt.
"I thought you hated me," Trunks says, kissing me on the lips, then breaking away to leave small, wet kisses along my neck. I growl, wishing I had picked the dress with a lower neckline.
"I do hate you," I reply, kissing him below the ear." You're spoiled. Arrogant. Selfish. Perfect."
"You complain a lot, and you're stubborn," Trunks retorts, resting his hand on my waist, not daring to go any lower. If I want things to go further between us, I'll have to be the one to guide him.
"I'm easy, too," I sigh, adding that to his short list of faults.
That dampens the mood. Trunks pulls away from me and sits up. " You're not easy. I'm the one who was being too aggressive."
I sit up and lean my head on his shoulder. Now I'm the one who can't stand to be separated from him. " I didn't try to stop you." My voice sounds so weak and small that I almost don't recognize it.
Trunks gulps and clears his throat, before asking." How many guys have you…?"
He leaves the question hanging but I know what he's trying to figure out. How many guys have I had sex with? How many guys have I kissed? How many guys have I dated or loved? I don't want to admit that his years of bullying and pranks have worked, that no guy has found me desirable, so I don't answer.
"Sir, we've arrived," The limo driver announces through a crack in the window. There's a large, dark window separating us from the front seat of the limo. My entire body burns red, suddenly realizing that we weren't as alone as I thought. We were too busy making out to notice that the limo stopped. How much of our make out session had the driver uncomfortably witnessed?
"Thanks. Feel free to enjoy a smoke break while we're gone. This might take a while," Trunks responds in a composed voice. The neckline of his shirt is stretched out, there's a few small scratch marks on his arms and face ( I don't remember scratching him), and his cheeks have a rosy glow to them. Only the driver and I can see that Trunks is not as composed as he sounds.
The driver laughs." Whatever you say, sir."
The black window rows up. The limo's engine shuts off, and I listen to the driver exit the vehicle. Trunks stares at me with hooded eyes, hoping that I'll be the one to pick up where we left off. It's better not to complicate our relationship any further, so I reluctantly pull away.
I make an effort to smooth out my hair and dress. If Trunks looks like he got attacked by a pack of rabid fangirls, then I could only imagine how I must look.
"Why are we at the mall?" I ask, finally looking out the window. It's a Friday night and the parking lot is packed with cars and people. Shopping on the first date is like paradise to some girls, but not to me. " I thought we were going out to dinner!"
My stomach growls, as if to say," Yeah, what the hell!"
Trunks quickly puts on his hat and gets out of the limo. I stubbornly cross my arms, making no attempt to get out and join him. If he has some important shopping to do, then I'll wait for him right here.
Trunks opens the door, and I open my mouth to protest.
"I want to buy you some new shoes," Trunks quickly explains." I can tell those shoes are uncomfortable since you were limping a little at the aquarium. I don't want to be known as that asshole guy who dragged his girlfriend all over West City on blistered feet. Please, let me do this one thing for you. "Trunks offers his hand and smiles." For my reputation's sake?"
It's impossible to resist Trunks' charm.
I uncross my arms, put on the matching hat, and allow Trunks to help me out of the limo. To my surprise there are four body guards waiting outside the limo with him.
"To keep the crowds away," Trunks explains, releasing my hand and shutting the door behind me." It would look suspicious if I charged my ki and blew away every journalist, businessman, or desperate woman that got too close. The bodyguards were my mother's idea."
I nod to show that I understand.
Trunks juts out his elbow." Shall we head to the shoe store at the Northern entrance, Mrs. Briefs?"
I roll my eyes, feeling so sorry for the bodyguards that have to endure listening to his corny pickup lines, which somehow work on me." It's going to take a lot more than a pair of new shoes for me to agree to become Mrs. Briefs." I link my arm with his and lean my face against his strong upper arm as we walk to the mall.
"I knew you weren't easy," He playfully whispers.
. + . + . + . + .
It's madness. Women all around us are screaming for Trunks' attention while other people silently record him on their cellphones. Our hats were useless disguising us. Maybe it was the bodyguards that gave him away. Whatever it was, everyone recognized Trunks a few seconds after stepping into the mall.
"Trunks, is that your girlfriend?" Some woman shrieks, attempting to break through the bodyguards and get to Trunks.
"I want to have your babies!" Another woman screams from further away.
"I love youuuu!"
A teenager manages to dodge through the bodyguards and charges after Trunks, her eyes and hands dead set on his hair. One of the bodyguards tackle into her before she can get the chance to touch her dreamy idol. The rest of the crowd takes a cautious step back after seeing the girl get tackled.
Trunks carries on as if the crowd wasn't there. He thanks the shoe salesman for retrieving the shoes in my size from the back, then gently begins to take off the shoes Bulla had bought for me. The crowd gets louder, envious of my position.
I jerk my foot away. "You don't have to do that. I know how to take off my own shoes, just give me a minute."
"I'll do it." Trunks says. He looks so focused, I know it's best not to argue. Besides, the sooner I put on the shoes the sooner we'll get to leave.
Trunks doesn't simply slip the shoe on my foot like I thought he would. Instead, he rubs his thumb in circles above my ankle, then glides his hand down my heel to my big toe. I lower my head to hide my face, thankful to have the hat from the aquarium. I seriously hope Trunks isn't getting some sexual thrill off touching my feet. People are recording us! My parents shouldn't have to see this!
"You have soft skin," Trunks remarks, finally taking out the simple – but comfortable - black shoe from its box and putting it on my foot.
"Um, thanks."
"Are you sure you don't want something better?" He raises his eyebrows.
I sigh." Expensive isn't always better. I'm fine with these, thank you."
Trunks has me stand up and try out the new shoes before buying them. The crowd follows us out of the store and we attract more attention as we walk back through the mall. Trunks possessively puts his arm around me, and the "Is she your girlfriend?" questions stop.
"How's your feet?" Trunks asks when we get into the limo.
Wearing comfortable shoes feels a hell of a lot better than those demon shoes Bulla made me wear. I don't care if high heel shoes make a woman's butt look good, they're not for me.
"My feet feel so much better. Thanks. I promise I'll pay you back."
Trunks squeezes my hand and leans in to whisper." If you want to pay me back. . . say yes to a second date with me."
I've felt nervous and uneasy since going into the mall. So long as Trunks is the CEO of Capsule Corporation, our dates will probably always be chaotic. Just like our future.
I force a smile." We haven't finished our first date yet. Let's see how dinner goes, then maybe I'll say yes."
"Put your head on my shoulder."
I raise an eyebrow. " Why?"
He scoots closer to me ( if that's even possible), and taps his shoulder," You look tired. It's alright. Put your head on my shoulder."
"Um, okay?" I hesitantly do as he asks.
He kisses the top of my head, then leans his cheek on me, hugging me close to him by my shoulder. We used to cuddle like this when I was younger, back when our love was familial.
"I forgive you for bullying me and for being a jerk in the past," I tell him, closing my eyes, feeling at peace with our relationship for the first time in years. "I just wanted you to know that."
He kisses my head again
. + . + . + . + .
I stand awkwardly in the hotel lobby while waiting for Trunks to finish talking with the restaurant manager. Instead of fangirls, we now have to deal with the curious gazes of men in expensive black business suits. Trunks is a big deal in the business industry, and even I can tell by the buzzing tone of their voices that they can't wait to approach him and pitch business deals and partnerships, or whatever it is they do.
Trunks and the manager laugh, shaking hands as they agree upon a solution. The manager contacts the girl sitting behind the desk with his ear piece, and Trunks lightly jogs back to me.
"Should we go somewhere else to have dinner?" I ask." We don't have to eat anything fancy. We can order burgers at a drive thru window. It's always hilarious seeing the worker's faces when I order 200 fries and burgers."
"That's not necessary. We'll eat here. Follow me," Trunks takes my hand and we jog across the lobby and down the hall to the elevators. Trunks guides me into the elevator, pushing the button for the top floor. The elevator doors close, humming as it slowly ascends.
Trunks leans into one of the corners and lets out a loud, relieved sigh. " Whoa, for a second I thought I was going to have to work on my date. I'm so glad to be out of there. If I had known there was going to be a huge business seminar this weekend I never would have made the dinner reservation. I'm so sorry about that, Pan."
"Hey, it's not a problem. Really." I lean against the wall next to him. " So…what's the plan now? Is there another restaurant on the top floor or something?"
Trunks looks at me and smiles.
"What?" I ask.
He continues to beam at me, proud of whatever solution he and the manager came to in the lobby.
I roll my eyes." If this is some ploy to get me into bed with you It's not going to work. There's zero chance of that happening now, Briefs. You should've made your move in the limo when I was all hot and ready."
"Maybe you'll feel differently after you eat," He purrs in my ear, causing my flesh to prickle.
The top floor turns out to be the roof. I don't know how they managed to do it so quickly, but our table has already been set up with silverware and a red tablecloth. Our glasses are filled with ice water. An older woman beautifully plays her cello not far from our table, but she's so lost in her music I don't think she's aware any of us are here. The railings of the roof are decorated with hanging lights, and our server has just finished lighting the candle on our table when we step off the elevator.
"Is it too much?" Trunks asks while studying my expression. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a nervous laugh." I actually flew a piano up here the first time, but Bulla said that was too much. I guess I should've asked what type of music you like before hiring the cellist. I could've gotten any band to play for us. Ah, dammit. I should've asked you first –"
I fly off the ground a little and throw my arms around his neck. " It's perfect. I'm serious, Trunks. I wasn't expecting this at all. No guy has ever been this nice to me before."
This time, it's Trunks' turn to blush.
Trunks pulls out my chair for me. I smile my thanks, smooth down my dress, and carefully lower my bottom onto the chair. The old Trunks undoubtedly would've pulled the chair out from under me at the last second, but it's clear he's not like that anymore. The waiter pulls out Trunks' chair, then says." Your appetizers will be here shortly." He bows, then takes a few steps back, joining the cellist's side, ready to fill our water glasses if needed.
I raise my glass." Here's to our first date!"
Trunks raises his glass." To our first date!" He agrees, tapping his glass against mine. A different waiter appears to serve us our appetizers: cheesebread , hummus, and exotic dishes topped with parsley. There's enough food to feed at least twenty people, but Trunks and I are so hungry we finish the appetizers in under ten minutes. It's nice having privacy on the roof. We don't have to hold back and eat like regular people.
Trunks clears his throat." So, Bulla says you guys are moving into your new place tomorrow…."
New place? Oh, right. I'm studying abroad, and Bulla is going to be my roommate, just like we've always dreamed. I vigorously nod my head." Yep, we're moving in together. I can't wait! " I take another sip of my water, hoping he won't ask more questions.
" You think you'll miss me?"
"The whole point of moving was to get away from you," I respond.
Trunks tips his head back and laughs. " Aw, c'mon. My pranks couldn't have been that bad."
"You stuffed a pair of giant panties in my sweater, made my parents think I was obsessed with you, scared away the first guy who liked me from asking me out, and I'm pretty sure you're the reason I've started getting grey hairs!" The list of embarrassing, childish things Trunks has done to me could fill at least three pages. He's the reason I'll probably need therapy in a few years.
"You said you forgive me," Trunks pouts, sounding younger.
"I do forgive you, it's just. . ."
How do I explain to him that I'm holding a grudge over mistakes he hasn't committed yet?
Four waiters arrive with our main dishes. Normal people wouldn't be able to finish that much food in one meal, but Trunks and I aren't normal. We'll probably have the plates licked clean within twenty minutes.
Trunks politely waits for me to take the first bite.
Delicious flavors assault my tongue all at once." Oh my god, this is so good!" I moan, taking another bite. Trunks' shoulders tremble as he laughs. Being rich, he's probably used to eating tasty foods all the time. Still, I scoop up my food with a spoon and hold it out to him." You've got to try this!"
Without hesitation, Trunks leans in and licks the food off the spoon. There's confidence and happiness shining brightly in his eyes. He loves me. He's always loved me, and just being together is enough to make him happy.
If only my feelings were as simple as his.
. . . . . .
…..
…
After dinner, Trunks suggests we fly to another country, one near the ocean, and share a refreshing evening walk together.
"It won't be crazy like it was at the mall. The people there won't recognize me, and we won't have to wear those stupid hats." He links his fingers with mine, slowing his pace so it'll take longer for us to reach the limo. He knows our time together is almost over. He will be flooded with paperwork and business meetings tomorrow, and I still have to pack up what's left in my bedroom. I wonder if he'll find the time to make it to the going away party Bulma has been planning for Bulla and me?
"I want to go home now," I say softly, squeezing his hand to let him know that this is painful for me, too.
Trunks accepts my answer with a solemn nod.
We sit close together in peaceful silence during the ride back to my home. There's nothing left to be said between us. Our timing sucks, but we've finally expressed our true feelings for each other. All we can do now is wait.
Wait, and wonder, "What happens next?"
. + . + . + . + .
The limo comes to a smooth stop in front of my apartment building. Neither Trunks or I attempt to get out. We're not ready for our date to end.
"You could just stay here," Trunks says, referring to my moving away tomorrow and studying abroad plans.
He's right. I could stay. He's not the same Trunks I had to deal with in high school anymore. But…
What about Bulla? She's so excited for us to become roommates. We pinkie swore a long time ago that we'd never let a boy come between us. Abandoning our plans just to have a more convenient relationship with her brother isn't something a best friend should do.
There's also the matter of Valese and Fable to think about. . .
"How do you feel about Valese?" I ask in a rush, startling us both.
Trunks blinks dumbly at me for a minute.
" Who…? Oh, you're talking about Goten's girlfriend, right?"
He stutters and fidgets uncomfortably in his seat.
" I don't really know her. She's seems kind of air-headed and weird to me." Trunks coughs, then scratches the back of his neck." Goten seems to be in love with her, so don't tell him I said that. Why did you bring up Valese all of a sudden?"
I shake my head and force a smile on my face." No reason."
I quickly jump out of the limo. Trunks has just cracked his door open when I shout," You don't have to walk me to my door! Thanks for dinner, I had a lot of fun! See you tomorrow!"
Trunks says something, but his voice doesn't reach my ears.
My arms glue themselves to my sides as I fly over the stairs at maximum speed. The front door isn't locked. In my current mood, I probably would've walked right through it, leaving behind my body's outline in the metal.
My legs wobble, allowing me to reach as far as the foot of my bed before giving out. On the hard floor near my feet my cell phone vibrates. It could be Bulla calling me, dying to know how my first date went….or it could be Trunks calling, wanting to ask in a deep, serious voice," How did you find out?"
Frustrated tears and sobs escape from me, and I kick my phone underneath my bed.
I'm allowed fifteen minutes to cry my heart out in private before two concerned, gentle knocks come from my door.
"Just a minute," I croak, wiping away my tears only to have fresh new ones stain my cheeks. I'm a complete mess. There's nothing I can do about it except cry it out. "Come in."
My body automatically turns away from my visitor. A part of me is afraid it will be him. My anxiety doesn't get the chance to build up since my visitor speaks.
"We need to have a talk, Pan." My father says, sitting down on my bed. He's alone. Somehow, my sobs didn't wake up my mother. I can sense her resting peacefully in their bedroom.
"Mama already had that talk with me," I joke, inhaling deeply to keep myself from whimpering. Hopefully he'll see that I'm not in the mood to talk about what happened and leave.
Papa doesn't apologize for pushing me to go out with Trunks. He doesn't demand to know what happened. He doesn't promise to beat Trunks to death. He doesn't even try to comfort me.
No, of course not.
Relationships and boys are Mama's department, not his. If there's a boy that needs to be beaten then it's Mama, his first love, who gives the command, not his irrational daughter.
My curiosity is enough to keep the tears away. I turn to face him.
Papa has his hands clasped together. His jaw is clenched, and he's staring straight at me with his similar dark eyes. Yes, whatever he wants to talk to about is much more important than the embarrassing sex talk Mama had with me years ago.
"What is it?" I ask, weary of my father.
Papa inhales through his nose and his chest rises. Whatever it is he needs to talk about it isn't going to be easy for him. Perhaps he sends the message to me mentally, or maybe an unspoken understanding passes between us...
Your mother must never know this.
I nod.
Papa parts his lips. For a few seconds, no words come out, then he speaks.
"I need to talk to you about your great-grandfather, Bardock," Papa's face darkens," and the gift he has passed down to you.. . to both of you."
My head snaps toward the empty space to my right, sensing him one second before he appears via instant transmission…it's my Unlce Goten. He looks pale and exhausted like he hasn't slept for days.
"This really sucks, Pan," Goten says, the corners of his lips twitching like he's trying very hard to smile, when really he sounds like a man who's lost everything.