Can't Buy Me With Strawberries

Everything was perfect.


That day, Yamcha and Puar were alone in one of the many living rooms of Capsule Corporation, talking about their old life in the desert.

- I miss it, admitted Puar, sad looking.
- I sure miss it too, agreed his friend, resting his feet on the low table. It was a great time. Total freedom, no rules, no...
- YAMCHA!! Don't put your feet on tables, for God's sake! You're not in the desert anymore!
- Hi, Bulma...

He put his feet back on the floor, sighing. He started to get used to the girl's fits of mood.

- You come with me, she continued, pulling him up from the couch.
- Where?
- Shopping for school stuff!
- ...School?

Bulma's eyes narrowed, scanning the perplex face.

- You're sixteen, you must go to school, she stated, frowning.
- ...Hum, ok... If it pleases you...
- It's the law!

She dragged him out, leaving Puar behind. Before he disappeared behind the door, Yamcha gave his friend a sorry smile.

Once alone, Puar stopped floating and stayed immobile on the couch.

Things had changed since they had moved here. And they weren't happy changes for him...

~ ~ ~

Yamcha sighed heavily. He was now sure of it: he hated shopping. At least with a girl. Well, at least with Bulma. She had been trying dozens of clothes of all kinds, asking him his opinion just to not buy it. She had talked about school stuff, but all he'd seen so far was clothes.

Bulma stopped out of the cabin once again, posed for him with a playful smile. She obviously adored pointless shopping.

- So? she asked, moving her hips slowly.

The short-but-not-mini-yet skirt slid a bit and Yamcha reddened.

- Ah... Huh... Yes... he managed to say, the eyes locked on her belly.

Bulma rose an eyebrow, rolled her eyes. Yamcha's phobia hadn't entirely vanished... She shrugged and went back into the cabin. Anyway, she didn't like the way this skirt was brushing her thighs at every move she'd do.

She was trying a dark blue dress when she heard a voice, a feminine voice.

- Excuse me... Could you tell me what you think of that outfit, please?

The young girl rolled her eyes once more. "That kind of girls can't do nothing by themselves. Poor..."

She then heard a familiar groan. The girl was asking his opinion to Yamcha! Her Yamcha! She slightly opened the cabin's door and frowned at what she saw. The girl in question was horribly sexy and the outfit was a quite suggestive bikini. Opening the door a little more, she saw her boyfriend, eyes three times too big, jaw approaching the floor, hair sticking up in a scary way. That did it.

- YOU JERK!!

Even a trained fighter like Yamcha couldn't escape from the monumental punch that hit him right on the nose. The poor boy flew into a rack of little shirts that all fell down, on him or on the carpet.

- Go the Hell!! screamed Bulma as slamming the door of the cabin.

Yamcha rubbed his nose, shocked and confused. The girl in bikini shrugged and disappeared in another cabin.

"What did I do? I was just... It's not my fault if she..."

"That bastard! Drooling over some hot chick like that!"

~ ~ ~

It's when Bulma had asked the salesman to call the security instead of talking to him that Yamcha knew he was better to leave her alone. So he apologized and left quickly, alone and lost. He'd guessed she was angry because of the girl in bikini (just the thought of her made his knees shake weakly), but he didn't understand why exactly. He'd done nothing...

As he passed by three teenage girls, he caught the words "...real cutie..." one said as looking at him. "Me? Cute? Naah..."

He stopped by a barber shop, stared at himself in a mirror. He had black, deep eyes, his newly cut hair was just as dark and a bit messy. He had a nice carnation, pleasant facial features... "Maybe..." Then he noticed the strange looks he was receiving from other costumers and quickly walked away. A sixteen years old boy staring so intensively at its own image didn't seem to be normal.

"I hope she won't stay mad..."

~ ~ ~

- Bulma! Huh... Where's Yamcha?
- He better be in Hell as I told him to go! sharply answered the purple haired fury, heading to her bedroom.

Puar stayed in the air, shocked. But surprise quickly vanished to leave the place for worry. He hoped Yamcha was fine and would come back soon...

As bad as he knew it was to think like that, he thought it'd be good if his friend would decide to go back to the desert and live like before again.

~ ~ ~

Bulma stared at the pieces of broken vases on the floor, wondering why there was so many vases in her bedroom when she needed to throw stuff into the wall, until tears made them too blurry. Then she collapsed on her bed and cried her heart out.

Yamcha was the first guy she loved and that hadn't make fun at her name or hit on her because of her family and wealth. He meant a lot to her... How could he just look at that... Bitch like that?! With that look on his face that made him so ridiculous?!

A box of capsules joined the shattered vases on the floor.

And he was supposed to be deadly scared of women!

"I've been like that with women forever. Especially... Pretty ones."

- Go to Hell with your pretty girls! Bastard!

Her pillows followed the capsules box's flight into the wall, down to the floor.

~ ~ ~

"Ok, I'm lost. Now what..."

Yamcha looked around him, feeling as desperate as a five years old kid in a crowded mall who lost his mom's hand and can't see her anymore. He didn't know the city, Bulma hated him, Puar wasn't even there...

- Hey...

He looked down at a small but pretty girl who was shyly smiling at him.

A fire lightened in his stomac, a wave of panic filled him. But he could control that better now...

- Yes?
- Do you have time?

She did a charming pout, her finger wrapping blond hair around itself. She had the same blue, shinning eyes than Bulma. "No, Bulma's eyes are seas... Hers are skies..."

- Huh... No, s... Sorry...
- Oh. Well hum... Ok... Bye!

She left with a blinding smile, leaving a cherry perfume behind her.

Cherry... Yamcha liked strawberry better.

- Yamcha?

An air-bike came down in front of it. The teenager immediately recognized the lavender hair and the warm voice. Bulma pulled her driver goggles over her head.

- Need a drive?
- ...Yeah.
- Climb.

She gave him her goggles. He put them on as sitting behind her, relieved she was talking to him and being nice, though something in her attitude wasn't right. She was... Colder.

- Hold me well, I'm a fast driver.

As soon as she'd said that, the air-bike rose in the air and flew over the roads at full speed. Gasping, Yamcha wrapped his arms around Bulma's thin waist and held onto herm eyes shut tightly. She hadn't tie her hair that day and it slapped his face, soft as velvet. She had used strawberry shampoo... How this fragrance suited her...

He found himself smelling he collar bone, his nose pulling her very lousy neckline toward her shoulder, his arms pressing her against him.

- Yamcha...

He quickly pulled his head up, almost letting her go and falling from the bike.

- Sorry... he said, red of embarrassment.

"Her skin is too soft..."

She didn't reply. And for the rest of the travel, he felt terribly bad to be touching her.

~ ~ ~

It probably had been better that Yamcha had backed off when she'd said his name, but Bulma missed his strong arms around her, his face against her neck... She'd never been held like that and it'd been so intense, so good...

Now she didn't know what to tell him. He was standing beside the air-bike, worryingly waiting for her to speak. She hadn't taken him t Capsule Corporation, but had driven out of the city, onto a small yet nice hill.

She remembered the mix of relief, happiness and fear on his face when she'd arrived close to him on her engine. He had looked... Just like a kid...

- I'm sorry, he said, breaking the silence. I... I really am.

She perfectly saw he was. It was so obvious. "I'm a monster to doubt of him..." Tears came to her eyes as she shook her head.

- No, it's me... I over reacted... You did nothing bad...

A sob interrupted her. She closed her eyes to stop the tears and, within a second, was tightly held by those muscular arms she loved so much. He gently brushed her hair, kissed the top of her head as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

- I'm sorry, she whispered.
- It's ok, Bulma... Don't cry... Please...

She obeyed, but didn't move. She felt so good in his arms... So close... Protected...

Yamcha couldn't believe he was holding her in such a way without feeling anything else than care, love, comfort... Actually he felt a lot of things, but only good things. No fear, no panic, no irrational heat. Just him and her.

- I love you, she said softly, looking up at him.
- I love you too...

Her lips connected to his, stopping him from talking. He didn't mind at all though. All that mattered was that she was there, she was happy, she loved him and, finally, he felt perfectly good with her.


Chapter III

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