A/N: So, this story came about out of cabin fever. With this stupid ice storm, I've been off work, and have been bored out of my mind.

I've tried to take a crack at writing in first person. I really hope you guys like it.

Summary: They've been together for a year and a half so far, and have been in love with each other even longer, but they are the only ones that know. But after they go away together for an extended weekend to a secluded and romantic Inn, their relationship is threatened when someone finds out about them.

You know, sometimes, I really hate being a teenager.

And I know, I know, but it's not for the reasons you hear those whiny, uptight, MTV teens you hear spouting on those stupid reality shows that my generation seems to be obsessed with. It's not because of the pressures of being a teenager, or the temptations that are out there, the decisions that I'm told have to be made, like colleges, careers, et cetra. It's because I seem to have the brain that's too mature to be trapped in a teenagers body.

Yeah, I get it. It sounds a bit stuck up and presumptuous to say that. I mean, I sound like 'The Rhonda Wellington Lloyd' when I say that. I can even picture myself shoving my nose into the stratosphere and sashaying as I say it, but come on, these idiots I have to put up with on a daily basis do nothing but prove my point. There's a saying that I've heard that we are one chromosome away from chimpanzees... and it shows. And it shows pretty obviously in the imbeciles at the high school I'm forced to attend.

Another crappy song starts playing on my phone and I dig it out of my pocket, hitting skip on the next few until I can find something that actually sounds appealing. There are just times when none of my music sounds good, and this morning is one of those times. I always hate these times. I settle on an old punk song and shove my phone back into my pocket, picking up the speed of my walk. I don't know why. It's not like I'm in a rush to get to school, and it's not like the bell is going to ring in ten minutes, and I'm still fifteen minutes away.

Bob may have been able to make his profits soar when he branched out in product, but his ego went with it. I mean, I'm the daughter of the famous 'Big Bob Pataki', you'd think someone with that kind of reputation wouldn't want his own flesh and blood to be seen walking to school every morning. But alas, I'm stuck with my old skate shoes being my only mode of transportation.

What was I saying before? That stupid pop punk song that came on distracted me. Oh yeah, hating being a teenager.

I guess it's not all bad. And I guess when you compare my life to others, it isn't so bad, when you look at it as a whole that is. But I guess I was always one to focus on the small details, and I've found that it's always the small details that are always the most damning in a person. It's always been my biggest flaw. I always look for a persons weakness before their strengths. I guess it's because when they decide to cross me, it's so I can exploit it that much easier.

Damn it, there I go again, talking about something that has nothing to do with what I was saying before. My mind is usually one big jumbled mess, but I've learned to live with it, surprising as that is.

Geez, I can almost gag looking at the morons I have to share eight hours of my day with, sitting on the steps outside of the school. All their cliques, how they all pass judgment, as if they were somehow endowed with the position to deem me worthy of them or not. What sickens me even more is that it's exactly who you'd expect it to be. The jocks and their cheerleaders. How much more cliche can you be?

Before I cross the street, I dig my phone back out and turn up the volume on this fast paced punk song that I just restarted. Not because I want to drown out their stupid gossip, but because I want them to hear it, just because it's not that sappy, emotional garbage they call music, done by some jerk off with a keyboard in his basement. I look away and avoid eye contact as I always do and jump up the steps just as the bell rang to go to class.

I guess I'll have to catch up with Pheebs a little later. As Hillwood High's front page saunter ahead of me, taking their snobby attitude with them, I scoff loud enough for them to hear me, and only roll my eyes when that stupid Kathy glares back at me. I know I'm a bitch, but in high school, it's survival of the fittest.

I catch the eye of one of the schools hall monitors, and this one knows me by name. He sends me his usual glare and I let out a sigh and pull out my ear phones. Man, I didn't know they could go that loud. I chuckle as I pause the music on my phone. That balding douche hates it that I have no respect for authority. I slid my thumb across the screen of my two year old phone, caught up in turning it to silent, that when I absentmindedly turned the corner to head to first period, it wasn't until I felt my ass hit the linoleum that I realize I ran into someone.

Great, now my ass is going to hurt all day thanks to whatever mindless idiot I just ran into. I suck in a breath, preparing my vocal chords to tell off the person, until I look over and see him sitting on the floor, rubbing his head. The deep breath I had breathed caught, and I guess it's lucky he hadn't met my eye line yet. I look past him and over to the cheerleaders and their arm candy, seeing some of them looking over at me. If they were to get wind of us, it would ruin me.

"Is that stupidly shaped head of yours still too thick to hold a brain in it?!" I crack, saying the first sarcastic remark that comes to mind. I get to my feet again, groaning at the dull, throbbing pain pulsing in my aching tail bone. I brush off some imaginary dust from my pant leg, just so I don't have to help him up. If I were to do that, I might just blow it all.

"Sorry Helga, I guess I wasn't looking."

His voice is so sexy when he's apologizing to me. "You guess?" I rhetorically ask him, still brushing my hands against my thighs. "Why don't you do me a favor and have an idea the next time you're walking?" I know it will kill me, especially with them watching, but I can't help it. I know he is smiling at me. I flick my eyes up to him, and sure enough, that stupid, shit eating smirk is gracing his lips.

"I'll remember that." He says and steps around me, brushing past me way too close. He's only smiling because he knows that they can't see him. What the hell is he thinking?! I look over my shoulder with a scowl, just to make my irritation seem real to them. I'm already late for class, and Mrs. Leonard already has it out for me anyway. That old bat likes everybody but me. I guess it's because I have a little something called a spine.

By the time I decide to turn ahead to actually go to class, the schools celebrities are gone, and the bell buzzes over my head. I can feel that stupid hall monitors eyes bore into the back of my head, probably trying to make me actually care that I'm late for my french class. But come on, the only reason I took this stupid class was because I needed a foreign language and the options were in alphabetical order, making french the first on the list, and the amount of how much I care the last on mine.

I open the door to the classroom, and disregard the eyes going to me, including the teachers and her stupid french accent, greeting us for the morning. I bet this bag of bones hasn't even been to France. I tune out when I sit in my seat in the back of class while I doodle in my notebook. When I hear the class go quiet, I look around and see that she has assigned us some crap that she didn't go over with us. Stupid broad doesn't know how to teach, but what do you want for thirty grand a year?

I look up to the clock and smile to myself. He's always right on time. And it's amazing, and not amazing that we haven't really drawn any suspicion. I pull out my planner from my backpack and go up to her desk and tossed it down in front of her. I shift my weight and cross my arms and look away, waiting for her to sign it. I see her hand it back to me and I grab it and make for the door, trying to hide my anticipation.

I turn and head down the hall towards our usual meeting place, and decide to look over my planner. Holy crap, we've done this a lot. It's only a month and a half into our junior year, and the back of my planner is almost full of teachers signatures, signing me out to give me permission to 'go to the ladies room'. I laugh and pick up my pace. I slow down a bit when I see another one of the stupid hall monitors look at me. It's not always a good thing to be on a first name basis with those pricks. I slow down to a very slow walk until he looks away and walks down the hall way that cuts across the one I'm in.

I let out a sigh of relief, but hear a door open next to me. I know it's him, but still, my heart skips gleefully as I feel his warm hand grab my wrist and yank me in. I feel myself giggle as darkness clouds my vision, hearing the door slam closed. I never have time to brace myself whenever he gets here before me, but then again, neither does he when I get here first.

Just like he usually does, he grabs onto my other wrist and pins them against the wall down by my sides, my skin already crawling with excitement. He was busy helping his parents all weekend, so my body is a bit frustrated. But as he steps into me, I can tell that he is to. My sense of victory over him is stolen when I feel his warm breath fan off me, and sense his lips just centimeters away from mine. "Apologize..." He said in his husky voice, even sexier than it is when he's playing along with my insults.

"For what?" I ask, keeping my voice down so no one who might be passing can hear us... although it's an exciting thought.

"Helga..." He warns me. I chuckle and lean my head forward to try and catch his lips, but I can feel him pulling back.

"Fine." I give in. I don't know why he always makes me apologize. I'm just keeping up the act, and he knows that. "I'm sorry. Can we make out now?" I whine. I haven't seen him all weekend, and he was busy with band on Friday.

I expect him to accept my apology, he always does. But this time he surprises me by smashing his lips against mine, kissing me with the passion that we usually have to work our way up to. He legs go of my wrists and pushes me against the wall, his hips pressing against mine so much so that I can feel the weight lift off my feet. His tongue finds mine after not that much effort given into looking for it, and I wrap my feet around his calves, my arms going around his skinny shoulders.

"Helga," He says into my mouth. He changed his toothpaste again. It's either to bug me or give me a reason to bug him. He knows I like the cool winter mint. "Gerald's getting suspicious again."

My pounding heart stops briefly, but he keeps kissing me and takes away the worry he just slapped me with. "I thought I told you to get rid of any of the clothes I leave in your room."

"I can't." He tells me. Ugh, I hate it and absolutely love it when he gets all mushy on me like this, especially when we are making out.

"Then learn to hide it better."

I hear him sigh when our lips are locked in a long kiss that I try to continue, but he is talking again before I can. "Helga, why can't we just tell them? Just Gerald and Phoebe." He says to me, pulling back but still holding me up against the wall.

"Have you lost your mind?!" I scold him, still keeping my voice low so no one will hear us. "We tell them, they tell someone else, and then we are outed to the whole school and before you know it, we are a laughing stock."

"But they're our best friends, Helga. If we tell them to keep it a secret, then they will."

He's been pushing me to tell them about us for a while now. A part of me knows that if we sit down with them and tell them about us, and tell them that they are not to tell anyone, then they will respect our wishes and keep their mouths shut. But... how do I put this lightly? Gerald's not my biggest fan. He's always held a grudge against me. And I know that he always gets the same speech about how if he just gives me a chance, blah blah blah, but if he gets wind of us, he would end us. "There is no way in hell I'm taking that chance, Arnold."

"But Helga, aren't you tired of sneaking around? Constantly having to lie to everyone, make up stories about where we go on our dates, and... making out in supply closets like a couple of horny teenagers?"

I bite back the laugh I feel threatening to burst out and bite my lip. "Are you serious? Newsflash, Football Head, we are a couple of horny teenagers."

He lets out a sigh and looks at me, silently asking me to be serious. He should know by now that I can't take him seriously when we are making out at school. "I'm just tired of hiding, Helga."

His pleading tone gets to me, and I feel my heart sink. I feel my gushy side rise up, and that's always a bad thing whenever I'm with him. But then again, the only time my gushy side comes out is when I'm with him. I meet his soft eyes, that even in the darkness of our closet seem to sparkle with his gentle and loving nature. "Listen Babe," I say, running my fingers through his soft hair, enjoying how soft it feels, and knowing how it makes him feel, "if we were to go public, they would tear us apart. The rumors would start, and then people start acting differently around us, and then the stupid cheerleaders start telling people how you're only going out with me out of pity, and..." My mind whirls from the endless possibilities that the savages of this school could use to tear us apart. My eyes fall to the narrow space between us, his hands still holding me up against the wall he shoved me against. He knows I'm a natural born pessimist, why does he always have to make me show it?

I feel his soft lips touch mine, kissing my worries and fears away like he always does. Sure, I love it when he's aggressive and primal when he kisses me, but it's times when he's slowly working his lips against mine, reassuring me that he's actually there and not going anywhere when I love him the most. He lips make one more run against mine, and he pulls back, looking into my eyes again. "I have a few hours before my sectional this afternoon. Why don't we go see a movie?"

I raise my brow, intrigued by his offer. "One of those cheap, foreign black and white movies, where it's two hours of some douche bag pointing a camera at a plastic bag floating around in an empty parking lot?"

"Mhm," He hums, smirking up at me, "but we're not sneaking in." He tells me seriously.

"Oh come on, Arnold! That's the only thing I was looking forward too!" I quietly whine, my legs still around his waist and my arms lazily draped over his shoulders. He cocks his head off to one side, giving me one of his looks and I roll my eyes. "Alright. I guess having you there won't be half bad." I say with a smile. Oh great, my gushy side is coming out again. And from the look he's giving me, he won't let me leave till I say it.

"Say it." Damn it.

"Do you want me to walk out of hear looking like a doped up idiot?" If he makes me say it, then he'll say it back and I won't be able to wipe the smile off my face all freaking day.

"You know you want to."

"You're killing me right now, I hope you know that."

"Just say it, I have a test next period and it will make me feel better."

I sigh, my heart melting inside of my chest at his pleading with me. He's going to pay for this later. Despite my annoyance, I can't help but smile at him softly and run my fingers through his hair again, "I love you."

I see his teeth gleam, and he leans up to kiss me. He pulls back after I giggle against his lips. "I love you too, Helga."