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Helga would fantasize about her first Valentine’s Day with Arnold every year as the date had come and gone. Fancy restaurants, violin playing, undying declarations of love as they kissed under a starlit sky, the moon hanging low as they affirmed their affections with dramatic speeches and deep kisses. As she’d gotten older, the fantasies became more elaborate, but she never had the heart to reach out to her football-headed crush and tell him how much she wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him.
Real life had no patience for such a thing, of course.
Her alarm went off at the usual time, and Helga slumped out of bed. After slamming her hand down on the button with more force than was probably necessary, she stomped out to the bathroom, took her morning shower, and brushed her teeth afterward. However, as she stared into the mirror, examining her haggard hair. Something was niggling at her mind, filling her with a sense of dread. She simply straightened her bow (she really should stop sleeping with it on) and headed downstairs to find whatever meager breakfast Miriam had cooked up.
As she munched on her cereal and drank her orange juice, Helga’s eyes drifted to the calendar on the wall. Seeing the date, and the heart drawn around it in her swirling pink penmanship, her eyes went as wide as dinner plates.
Valentine’s Day.
Her first Valentine’s Day with Arnold.
Helga bolted upright and then rushed upstairs. She couldn’t see Arnold like this! She ignored Miriam’s cries and grabbed her phone, mashing out a text quickly.
‘Phoebe please, I need your help! It’s my first Valentine’s Day with Arnold and I need help!’
The reply came quickly. ‘Helga, no offense, but I’m not the best at this sort of thing. Also I have my own date with Gerald, you know.’ Helga groaned. Of course her best friend had a date. ‘What do you need? Advice? A plan? A makeover?’
Helga thought it over. What did she need? She blanked as she actually tried to form the question. Her thumbs shook as she typed out a message. ‘I need…to know how to make this good. I don’t want to disappoint him. I…want to go above and beyond for him because…because he deserves it.’
There was a long pause, and Helga had untied and retied her bow three times before Phoebe finally sent her a reply back. ‘Have you considered asking him if he has plans? Communication is the bedrock of a blooming relationship.’ Helga groaned once more. She knew that. Over the past eight months, they had been practically forced to communicate. It was so difficult, but Arnold’s smile made everything worth it.
‘Fine.’ Helga sent back, and she didn’t want to imagine Phoebe’s sly little smile when she knew she won. She quickly pulled up Arnold and sent out a text, gulping down the lump in her throat.
‘Morning, Arnold. Got any plans for today?’ She sent, and her anxiety seemed to increase even more the longer the seconds ticked by.
‘Yep. I figured we could go out to a nice Italian place I know of after school. Grab a pizza, y’know?’ And Helga let loose a little sigh as she imagined herself and Arnold sharing spaghetti and slowly inching closer…before she reached up and slapped herself out of it. Her boyfriend was expecting a reply, dammit!
‘Sounds good. How fancy are we talking about this Italian place? Do I need to be Cecile again?’ And she could almost hear his laughter.
‘Nothing too fancy. I know you don’t like dressing up. Follow your instincts and dress naturally. I’m still getting to know you, so I’d rather you just act like yourself, Helga. <3’
Helga’s face turned bright red as she saw that little heart emoji, her vision blurring as she held her phone close to her chest, grinning like a loon. “Oh Arnold! How could I have ever overthought this situation with you by my side? If I just act like myself, my TRUE self, not the cruel armor I hide behind, I’ll never have to worry about driving you away!”
She quickly stopped and typed out a ‘Great. I look forward to it, football head <3’ Filled with renewed confidence, she gently pulled her pigtails out, letting her hair fall down. It looked a bit like Cecile, but she tied her bow securely to make it clear it was her. Her dress was cleaned and pressed and she stepped out, ready to head to school and face her peers and Arnold.
For once, Helga was cautious as she walked to school with Phoebe, meaning that she DIDN’T just slam into Arnold for once. They met at the corner, and Gerald gave Phoebe a smooth smile and took her hand, laying a kiss on her knuckles.
“Hey Phoebe. Happy Valentine’s Day, hun.” And Phoebe giggled into her hand. Helga and Arnold locked eyes.
“...Your hair looks nice, Helga.” Arnold offered, and she couldn’t help but smile for a moment, although she only barely kept it up long enough for him to see. “H-Happy Valentine’s Day.” He added, extending his hand to her.
“...Yeah. Happy Valentine’s Day, Arnold.” She answered, gently taking his hand in hers. He shot her a winning smile that made her heart melt. The matter settled between all four of them, they walked to PS 118. Helga’s heart pounded and her face was red, but she tried to keep her mind occupied. School was going to distract them. They’d never had a crazy Valentine’s Day at humble little PS 118, and they were in the sixth grade now. So school was likely to be…simple. Uncomplicated. Just try not to swoon, don’t make grand romantic gestures, and then have a nice dinner with her boyfriend afterward.
Then they turned the corner. And chaos reigned.
The entirety of PS 118’s austere building was covered in pink, red, and white. Heart-shaped streamers hung from every window, fluttering in the slight breeze. Kids walked around, exchanging chocolates and candies. And sitting at a table festooned in pink, selling long-stemmed red roses wrapped in plastic, and surrounded by eager customers, was Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd, wearing sunglasses despite the February dreariness providing ample cloud cover.
“Roses! Valentine’s Roses! All proceeds are going to the Hillwood Children’s Cultural Fund, you’ll look generous and romantic. Win-win!” Rhonda called, and the kids were going crazy for it. Stinky offered a rose to Lila and got a peck on the cheek in return, the tall, thin boy almost being carried away by the wind. Sid bought three shouting that they were ‘just in case’. Harold was proclaiming that they were stupid…before buying two and giving them to Patty. Curly slapped down a 50 dollar bill with a mad grin and just gave the bouquet back to Rhonda, who tried to look angry, but the faint dusting of red on her cheeks gave her away.
Gerald walked forward, placing down a bill, and offering the rose to Phoebe, who accepted it happily, and allowed Gerald to gently tuck the bloom into her hair.
Helga felt her stomach twist. She crossed her arms, and Arnold’s gaze found hers quickly. “I hate this.” She sneered.
“Yeah.” Arnold breathed. “It’s…a lot.”
Curly danced through the air, holding a rose Rhonda had given him (from his own bouquet) like it was a sacred relic.
“We uh…don’t have to do the rose thing.” Arnold breathed, and she melted as she realized he was trying to make her more comfortable. “U-Unless you want to.”
Her eyes flicked to the table, Arnold noticed. Because of course he did.
Helga scoffed. “What a scam! Roses are just an overpriced, overrated symbol of capitalistic nonsense! I’d be jealous of Rhonda’s hustle if it weren’t so annoying.”
“Well, they are for charity, Helga.” Arnold reasoned.
“Don’t you dare bring your preachy morality into this football head.” Helga replied. Any further discussion was stopped dead in its tracks by Rhonda lifting her sunglasses and locking eyes with Helga, her smile turning a touch feral. Helga could only grind her teeth, the last thing she wanted today was the feeling of being watched.
“Helga! Arnold! Happy Valentine’s Day!” She greeted in her usual grandiose fashion. “Step aside, people! Power Couple Alert! Make room, make room!” She grabbed a clipboard and smirked at them, twirling a pen in her fingers. “It’s the last call for early delivery you know. Nothing says romance like a rose before homeroom, you know.”
“Yeah right, Princess.” Helga sneered. She noticed Arnold scratching the back of his neck and grabbed his elbow, hauling him inside. “We don’t need your garbage roses.”
“Oh? So sure are you?” Rhonda called, her triumphant laughter ringing through their ears the last thing they heard before the doors finally shut.
“Well…” Arnold huffed. “That uh…escalated.”
“Yeah.” Helga agreed, eyes glancing back at the door as if she needed to physically hold it shut. She squeezed his arm for a second before letting go. “If you buy me a rose, I’m going to hate it.”
Arnold just gave her that usual sunbeam smile of his and walked with her to her locker. “Whatever you say, Helga.”
Arnold was the first to crack. After homeroom ended, he made sure Helga had already gone to her class before sneaking over to the table Rhonda was still manning, and she was looking like the cat who ate the canary.
“My my Arnold, I thought Helga said you don’t need my, what did she call them, garbage roses?” Rhonda smirked, letting out an imperious laugh.
“Keep your voice down.” Arnold replied, face serious he pulled out his wallet. Smirking, he slapped down a bill. “Just give me one, Rhonda.”
“I’m afraid lunch deliveries are full.” Rhonda batted her eyelashes at him, making him roll his eyes.
“I don’t need a delivery. I’ll do it myself.”
“Oooh, a more personal surprise. I knew you were a man of culture, Arnold.” She handed over the rose and lifted her sunglasses to give him a wink. Arnold ignored her and stepped back, examining the rose in his hands.
“Okay…just gotta hide this until lunch…” He muttered. He thought about it for a moment before gently stuffing it in his locker sideways, gently avoiding having it be crushed by any of his other items. He knew it wouldn’t really matter to Helga, but he wanted it to look perfect when he gave it to her.
Helga had just been leaving third period, looking forward to a short history class before lunch, when she spotted Arnold talking with Gerald. He looked so cool, so calm, so collected…Helga’s eyes narrowed.
He was up to something.
So she stomped away, a few fellow classmen fleeing in terror as Helga G. Pataki stormed through the halls like she owned the place, before finally seeing Rhonda’s table.
She slammed her palm on the counter, a five dollar bill in her hand. “One rose, can the commentary track, Rhondaloid.”
Rhonda’s grin only widened, like she knew some big secret no one else did. “For Arnold?”
“I said can the commentary track Princess, unless you want those expensive-looking shades in pieces on the ground.” Helga snarled.
“Oh, perish the thought Helga.” Rhonda replied, although she pushed her shades further up her nose protectively with one hand and slid Helga her rose with the other. The stem on it was particularly long and Helga bit back an insult as she stuffed it into her jacket and stomped away, ignoring Rhonda’s whistle of feigned innocence.
The hour and a half until lunch had been nothing but pure torture. The rose scraped against her, a thorn escaping the plastic packaging and digging into Helga’s side, and every time Arnold looked at her she shifted as if he had X-Ray vision and could see what was hiding in her coat.
They sat next to each other in history, and Arnold sniffed. “Huh…you smell like roses, Helga.”
“Y-Yeah, so?” Helga sneered. “News flash, Arnoldo, every stupid kid in the school bought a rose!”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He replied, believing her implicitly as always and walked off, leaving Helga to facepalm. Why couldn’t she just be nice?
By the time they made it to the cafeteria, both of them were practically vibrating in their places in line. Both Phoebe and Gerald had seen the impending explosion coming and politely excused themselves to their own private table. They finally sat down, eating quietly. It wasn’t until Helga threw down her half-eaten pizza in disgust that things shifted.
“Arnold–”
“Helga–” They both stopped. Helga’s eyes narrowed. Arnold’s relaxed, as if he already knew what was going to happen, the cheater.
“You first.” Helga grumbled. Before Arnold could insist that she went first, she raised a hand. “Alright, Football Head, we both know what we did. So let’s just do it together, okay? Criminy…”
Arnold could only offer a sweet smile. “Sure, Helga. On three?”
“Yeah. One, two…” And then she reached into her jacket and gently revealed the slightly smooshed rose at the same time Arnold pulled out his slightly better-looking one. His locker had not been kind to it, his backpack bending the long stem.
They looked each other in the eye for a few seconds, before Helga chuckled. The laughter was contagious and they were soon giggling like a pair of crazies, slumping on the table, still holding the roses. When they finally died down, they quietly exchanged the flowers with a soft smile.
“I was going to say I hated it.” Helga muttered, running the pads of her fingers around the petals.
“I was going to say it’s not a big deal.” Arnold added, spinning the stem between his index and thumb.
“You’re an idiot.”
“You love me.” Arnold retorted, sitting next to her, and Helga couldn’t help but notice the aura of smugness that surrounded him.
“You’re lucky I do, Football Head.”
As they resumed eating, no one noticed Rhonda pumping her fist in victory.
The entire walk home after school, Arnold and Helga tried not to hold hands. It wasn’t meant to be anything, just a simple walk before going their separate ways to reunite at Giuseppe's for a simple dinner. Nice and simple.
But fate seemed to have other plans.
“You want a hot chocolate or something?” Arnold asked.
“Sure thing, hairboy. I could go for something caffeinated after the exhausting experience of being watched all day at school. Power couple my butt. I swear if Rhonda calls us that again I’ll be shoving those Prada heels up her–” She froze in her tracks as the door to the coffee shop swung shut behind her. Arnold right in front of her.
The coffee shop was festooned with pink streamers just like the school. Sitting next to the counter was a sign saying “COUPLE’S TRIVIA CONTEST! WIN A PRIZE! 3:30 PM!” Helga checked her watch. 3:25.
“We should leave.” She said icily.
“Oh c’mon, Helga.” Arnold smiled. “We’re just getting some hot chocolate. We’re not entering the contest.” He says, and Helga had to groan as she followed him up to the counter.
The barista smiled at them as she delivered their hot chocolates. “Ah, here we go, for Arnold and Helga. Are you two together? Like, formally?”
Helga was about to snarl out an insult and deny it on reflex, when Arnold took her hand, brave as always. “Yeah actually, we are.”
“Perfect! I’ll put you two down as contestant number five!” The barista chirped, completely ignoring Helga’s face going red.
“Oh no, I’m not doing this stupid contest. No way, no how. I refuse!”
One minute later, Helga was sitting on a stool next to Arnold, her arms crossed and her scowl looking suspiciously like a pout. “I can’t believe we’re doing this stupid contest.”
“Oh c’mon, Helga. It’ll be fun.” Arnold replied, and she hates how easily he can make her go with the flow. “It’s just a silly contest.”
“I’m gonna lose on purpose.” Helga groused, and Arnold laughed quietly as the barista handed each couple a dry-erase marker and a board to write on.
“Alright folks, here are the rules! I’m going to ask you a question about your partner. You aren’t allowed to look at your partner. You say your answer, and your partner reveals the right answer on the board. After five rounds, whoever has the most points wins! Fun, right?”
“Oh I am so throwing this.” Helga sneered. Arnold rolled his eyes.
“Alright, question one! What is the color of your partner’s eyes?”
The answer leapt from her mouth too fast for her to catch. “Green.” And her face burned as Arnold flipped the board, revealing she got it right. He wordlessly passed her the board.
“Second question: What is your partner’s favorite fruit?” Helga tried to lie, but the only thing she could think of was strawberries, and Arnold would be mad if she mentioned the one thing she was allergic to. So she scribbled down the first thing she thought of.
“Bananas.” Arnold answered smoothly, and Helga audibly groaned as she flipped over the board. Another pass. She could feel people looking at her, seemingly in awe of their ability to be in tune with one another, but Helga just flinched like she’d put her hand over a hot stove.
“Question three. What is the one thing you like most about your partner?” Helga’s face flushed. That question actually was difficult. What did Arnold like most about her? She wanted to glance at him, but he turned away, a soft smile on his face as he wrote down his answer. She thought fiercely, the memory coming all too easily.
‘I’ve also seen you be loyal and super brave.’
The flashback almost made her miss the answering window, and she grumbled out an answer quickly. “He likes that I’m really brave.” And Arnold’s smile only grew as he flipped over the board. Three for three so far.
“Question Four: What does your partner do to relax when no one is around?” Helga’s face flushed. She could once again lie, trying to avoid getting a perfect score at least. But the image of Arnold glancing at her with that small frown of disappointment made her stomach twist in knots. She knew he knew the right answer.
“I like to write.” She moaned, and Arnold flipped over the board to show that he had indeed gotten it right, along with a small doodle of her, no doubt writing poetry. She tried to ignore the barista’s cooing and shot Arnold a look, and he just shrugged at her before passing the board back for the final question.
“Alright, let’s end this on a bang, people!” The barista cheered. “Last question: If you could do one thing with your partner that you haven’t before, what would it be?”
Helga’s mind swirled. What would Arnold answer? What would he say? She couldn’t predict it. She was supposed to write what she honestly wanted, but what did she want? She quickly scribbled an answer, face red.
“Alright, time’s up! What do you say?”
“We haven’t really had a quiet day to ourselves since starting our relationship.” Arnold answered quietly. Helga groaned and flipped the board, the words “Some peace and quiet” stood there like a billboard showing just how connected Arnold and Helga were.
“Wow! A perfect score!” And the other couples grumbled a little. Helga managed her anxiety by chugging her no-longer-hot chocolate like a woman possessed. “Here’s your prize! A free dinner for two at Giuseppe’s!”
Arnold looked at the coupon, and Helga’s blood ran a little cold, a memorable night at Chez Pierre sticking in her head. “We were uh…already going there tonight.” Arnold blushed.
“Well then, now it’s on us! Congratulations to you two, and see you next year!” The barista looked far too happy, and Helga resisted the fantasies of throwing her cup at the overly-chirpy woman’s head.
“Ugh…that was so embarrassing…!” Helga groaned the second they were outside.
Arnold chuckled and held her hand, smiling. “I think it’s pretty cool. And we won because we know each other so well. I thought for sure we’d lose.”
Helga groaned. “I tried to lose, but I didn’t want to write something stupid so you’d give me the eyebrows of disappointment.”
Arnold chuckled. “I figured. You didn’t throw it on purpose.” He smiled. “I like your integrity, Helga.”
Her face went red, and she gently socked him in the arm. “Criminy, football head, you’re gonna make me combust if you keep complimenting me.”
Arnold’s chuckle turned into full-blown laughter. “I mean it, though!”
“That’s the problem, ya yutz!” But Helga couldn’t keep her annoyed armor up for much longer and began to laugh with him. The rest of the walk back home was filled with subtle punches to the arm and Arnold grabbing her hand before she could pull away, the crisp February air keeping them closer than they otherwise might have.
They parted ways at Helga’s house, Arnold lifting her hand and kissing the knuckles with a bashful smile, and Helga’s entire face goes red as a giddy smile spreads across her face. “I’ll see you at Giuseppe’s at seven, okay? Wear something…” He thinks for a moment. “Cecile-adjacent, I think is the right word.”
Helga’s smile doesn’t vanish, but her eyes have an edge to them as she sticks her tongue out at Arnold. “Never should have told you about that. Just makes your head swell to the size of a blimp.” But then she smiled, reaching forward to cup his cheek. “See ya later, Football Head.” She slowly pulled away, waving as she entered the house. And if she stayed to look through the peephole to watch him looking at the door with that soft, easy smile on his face before literally jumping in the air and clicking his heels together before running off, well, that was between her and her breath on the door.
Helga waits until she nearly has no time left to pick her outfit. She decides on only the barest of essentials for makeup, lip gloss, the tiniest hint of mascara, and a tiny bit of blush. She’d long since learned that with her appearance, less was more when it came to makeup. Her hair dropped from its pigtails, resting past her shoulders in a golden tidal wave that curved just so without unnatural curling. She found a little rose-shaped hairclip and attached it to her hair, just above her eyes. A simple fancier pink dress and a pair of white heels completed her outfit. She asked Bob for a ride to Giuseppe’s, and actually got it for once.
The atmosphere didn’t feel as oppressively romantic as Chez Pierre. It was warmer, more friendly, reds and golds instead of blues. The lights were dimmed, music piped in from a speaker system instead of a live band. And when she told the hostess she had a reservation with Arnold, she didn’t make a big deal out of it, guiding her to a private corner booth where Arnold sat, in a simple blue blazer and matching tie. A single candle illuminated the table, making it look way more fancy than Arnold had advertised.
“Hey, Arnold.” She greeted casually, trying to seem mysterious and flirtatious, and he simply smiled back.
“Hey, Helga.” He replied, guiding her to sit down. “You look…stunning.” The sheer honesty in his voice made Helga flush.
“You said this would just be a casual dinner, football head.” She says, her tone even. “This is…way more romantic than you told me it would be.”
“Are you mad?” Arnold asked, his smile still steady, as if he could see right through her.
“No, Arnoldo, I’m not mad.” She says with a happy roll of her eyes. They order, and somehow things feel…easy. It’s just her and Arnold, in a private corner, ordering some garlic knots and a salad as appetizers.
“Finally…” Arnold sighs. She knows his appetite well (twenty bucks lost at the eating contest still makes her wallet feel lighter and her heart a pinch heavier for daring to doubt her Arnold could win anything) so she’s not surprised when he digs in. He blushes as he realizes how that sounded. “I mean…we finally have a quiet moment. Nothing too loud, too in your face, too romantic.”
She rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t worry about it Arnold. I know your appetite. You can just be happy that the food is here.” She chuckled at his sheepish look.
From there on, the conversation flowed naturally. Class projects, school gossip, Arnold’s parent’s new project for wildlife conservation, Bob’s new business strategy. It was never awkward or anything but perfectly casual. They slowly scooted closer together, bumping elbows as they ate their spaghetti bolognese and chicken parmesan, the elbow bumping escalating into a shoving contest that ends in them almost shoving each other’s faces into their plates.
They’re shoulder to shoulder by the time the entrees are clear, quietly reading the dessert menu together. As they’re browsing, a large man with a moustache that looks like it belongs on a pizza box at the grocery store walks up to their table.
“Excuse me you two, are you enjoying your meal?” He asks smoothly, his voice filled with that classic Brooklyn accent. “Wonderful! I’m Antonio Giussepe, the owner, and I have an offer for you.” He extends a piece of paper to them, and Helga leans forward to read it critically.
LADY AND THE TRAMP CHALLENGE
EAT TWO FOOT LONG NOODLE TOGETHER, FREE DESSERT
She fixed Arnold with a look, who shrugged helplessly. “You want us to do this?”
“And then post it on our instagram, yes.” Antonio pulled his collar gently, Helga’s look was quickly becoming venomous. “But you get free dessert out of it! Our famous chocolate cannolis!”
Helga looked at Arnold, whose face was getting redder and redder. She rolled her eyes. “Give us the stupid noodle, Antonio.” Arnold’s face lit up like a christmas tree. Antonio clapped his hands in delight and ran off.
“Are you nuts, Helga?” Arnold whispered, and Helga reached up to flick him in the forehead.
“Don’t worry about it, hairboy. We’ve got it. Besides, free dessert right?” She says calmly, pointedly ignoring the way her locket jumped with every beat of her heart. Her face was slowly getting redder and redder.
‘Don’t panic, Helga. Don’t panic! It’s just a small little thing. A silly little thing where we eat a big noodle together! We’re going to kiss with a noodle in the middle. It’s going to be silly and probably gross.’ She thinks. ‘WE’RE STILL GOING TO KISS! AAAAAAAAAAA-’
Arnold’s hand finds hers and he smiles, and all thought stops in her head.
Antonio comes out with the noodle two minutes later, smiling joyously as he laid the plate on their table. It wasn’t like a spaghetti, it was thick, and wide, like a massive fettuccine, covered in butter too. Helga grabs the salt shaker and sprinkles a little on her half. Arnold chuckles.
“Alright, Helga.” He lifts up his half of the noodle, and smiles as Helga grabs hers. Antonio pulls out his phone and points at them.
“Just a picture, I swear!” He promises when Helga stares. She rolls her eyes and begins to bite down, slurping up the noodle, and Arnold reciprocates. They’re getting closer and closer, and as they get closer to meeting in the middle, their eyes meet, and a burst of giggles wells up inside her. The situation is just so ridiculous that she can’t help but laugh. Arnold begins to chuckle, and by the time there’s only one bite left of the noodle between them and Antonio has taken the picture, they’re almost separating, they're laughing so hard.
Arnold reached over and cupped her cheek, and Helga looked him in the eyes, the sight of an easy, comforting smile making her relax. Her eyes drifted closed, and Arnold pushed the rest of the way.
She could taste butter on his lips. It was salty, but it was also…
‘Incredible. Oh Arnold, my football-headed Eros, is there anything you can’t make me do? This ridiculous noodle challenge is so foolish, and yet it’s been one of the best moments of my life. Your lips, as soft as clouds, feel so wonderful against mine. Your hands cupping my cheek make me feel so close to you. I love you more than you can ever comprehend, my beloved.’
The kiss ended, as all things do, and Arnold and Helga’s eyes fluttered open, faces red as they separated. Helga went ramrod straight, turning away, licking her lips and tasting butter.
Antonio clapped, and the massive cannolis filled with cream and stuffed with chocolate chips were brought out. “Amazing! Thank you so much for participating!”
“It uh…was no problem Mr. Giussepe.” Arnold answered, scratching his cheek slowly.
“Alright alright, show’s over. We’re eating and then we’re getting outta here!” Helga groused, and Antonio nodded and headed back into the kitchen. The cannolis were eaten in silence, and Helga hated how good they tasted. Her eyes kept flicking to Arnold, and then looking away, face becoming more and more red. She tried to study his expression calmly, but he was simply smiling and focusing on his food like nothing was wrong.
‘Maybe that’s because nothing is.’ She thought. Helga went ramrod straight again. ‘Maybe…Maybe everything is okay. Maybe it’s okay to just do something silly and embarrass yourself because…it’s with him.’
The walk home was quiet, the moon slowly climbing the sky as the two blondes strolled through the city streets. The silence was companionable, not awkward. Arnold and Helga’s hands clasped through the entire walk back to Vine Street.
“Tonight was…really nice Helga. I like spending time with you.”
“Yeah, me too, Arnoldo.” Helga replied, her face hurting with how much she’s smiling. “I’d say for our first valentine’s day since…San Lorenzo, everything worked out in the end, right?”
“Right.” Arnold replied. He gently removed his hand from hers to press the crosswalk button, and Helga bristled.
“Hey! Who said you could stop touching me?” She demanded. She phrased it like all of her outrageous bullying demands, but Arnold just smiled and grabbed her hand again, this time lacing their fingers together.
“Sorry, Helga.” He answered, but his cool smirk made her heart flutter. All too soon, the boarding house arrived. Helga wished desperately that they could just walk around the block some more, but Arnold stopped in front of his door.
“...Guess this is your stop, huh?” She asked, looking away, rubbing her arm.
Arnold smiled and reached for her other hand, holding it as well. “Helga. This entire time, the time since San Lorenzo, has been really great. You’ve been such a wonderful…girlfriend. And this Valentine’s Day has just been our entire relationship in a nutshell. Wild, crazy, but also…really great.”
“Real talent for words you have there, football head.” Helga smirked, and Arnold chuckled, shaking his head.
“What I’m trying to say is…I…I’m falling in love with you, Helga.” And then he pulled her down, kissing her far deeper than they did at the restaurant. Helga almost freaked out, but Arnold’s hand on her shoulder kept her steady. She slowly pushed against him, kissing back, wanting to pour all of her love into Arnold, and he simply held her tight as she did, accepting all of it.
When they finally parted, Arnold’s smile could light up the entire town. Helga’s face was hurting with the Curly-esque grin on her face.
“I love you, Arnold. Always have. Always will. You aren’t getting away from me that easily.” She answered, her grin not wavering in the slightest when he hugged her and squeezed. Helga let out a little sigh and almost collapsed in his arms, but she pinched herself to avoid just completely swooning.
Arnold scuffed his shoe against his stoop. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You know it Football Head.” She smirked, punching his arm gently. Arnold rushed up the stairs and waved at her before opening the door and disappearing behind the stampede of animals.
Confident she was alone, Helga whispered, “Good night, sweet prince.” Before turning to walk home, only stopping to jump up in the air and click her heels together.
And if Arnold saw that through the peephole, that was between him and his grandma who’d caught him breathing on the door.