Arnold's POV
Helga drove into the next lane, honking impatiently, cutting off other cars like she was off her rocker.
So like any wise person would do my fingers hold on tight.
Once gaining the courage to release my keen focus on the road, I peek over spotting that tiny hint of glee showing through her angry scowl.
Uh-Huh, just as I expected. Wicked Pataki was doing this on purpose, getting a sick pleasure out watching me squirm. I felt a smirk stirring because what else is new right?
That smirk is for another reason too...
I don't know if Helga ever picked up on it, but I'm sure very few knew of my secret, shameful thrill for danger. My lifestyle as a kid was pretty adventurous but because my goody-two-shoes reputation people just thought I stumbled into these situations.
My lifestyle as a kid was pretty adventurous but because my goody-two-shoes reputation people just thought I stumbled into these situations.
I'd rather her think I was a punk; which she thought anyway…. Then think I'm getting some charge from her pro driving skills.
My squeezed my eyes shut when she beamed past incoming traffic. Opening them, they fell on her thighs, watching as the muscles there tightened with her impulsive movement.
She continued to swerve the car until finally wheeling into the parking lot and breaking abruptly into a tight space.
I shook my head slowly, eyeing the side of her face with a heated glare. "Okay, I'm entirely convinced that you're acutely insane."
Instead of taking offense like most, "I never pleaded sanity." she smiles proudly, gloating some. "Besides that was your punishment for that long drive out of my way."
"Quit exaggerating," It's closer to my house," I suggested.
Helga took a pause; her face froze for a splitter of a second. I wonder what the cause of that was. I could never know with her. "Like I would ever suffer through sitting in your stale, boring room listening to your geeky Kenny G. albums."
"You did for a whole six months straight," I muttered under my breath, unsure if she heard me or not. Not really caring to aggravate the person who had my life in her hands.
Her fingers gripped the steering wheel as she continued into the food joint.
If I was going to endure long hours with a girl who loved to argue my every word, I need plenty of fuel. And Carl's was an affordable way to get it.
Helga was mumbling something I couldn't make out. Not that was really trying to uncode her angry rants. Sometimes, even in her rage, her vocabulary sounded like someone with a master in linguistics.
I found the sign at the first booth in clear eye view, and I started to get images of the past, the way things were.
Memories I tried to shake because they were reminded of the horrible freshmen year I endured.
The slamming of the door made some air jump from my lungs, and I look over to see the primary source of that already half way to the building.
She still strode and stumbled her feet like always, wearing that black shirt paired with leggings.
Her dance uniform, not the same one from three years earlier. I figured as my eyes dropped to her legs. Judging by the way her lower-half has filled out.
My eyes lifted to that curvier hind and I my pants got snugger in a particularly ah, awkward area.
Fuck
I bit my lip.
why does she have to look like that, why couldn't she have gotten ugly instead of more attractive = I thought as I ogle her appreciatively.
My eyes snap away in annoyance, I refuse to notice shit like that. But I watch her fists ball up and that snarl form on her full lips barking out orders to some poor, most likely new employee.
A familiar smirk forms on the corner of the mind, watching this. Because that damn when will Helga G. Pataki ever learn the concept of patience.
But then it became less amusing when I saw the manager come out with his hands on his hips. "Same old Helga." I sighed, losing a thread of my own patience. "Here we go again," I said as I climbed out of the car.
Thank God, the kitchen is in clear view because the way Helga acted, I wouldn't be surprised if got a wad of spit in our food.
Helga elbowed me while moving out of the way of the next customer.
"Sir my friend and I, are just trying to get a bit, we're a little, uh, stressed from a long day and just want some refreshments." I smiled the best I could while feeling Helga's eyes burning into the side of my head.
The manager threw back his towel and shuffled back into the kitchen.
Her sharp elbow hit my arm, I nurse it for a second before turning to her. "Do you have to be such an annoying little ass kisser?"
I elbowed her back, meeting her glare straight on with one of my own. Sometimes I get the feeling Helga really hates me and not in that weird way she did as children but more grounded in reality. Not that I blame her. I still cannot allow myself to back down. "Do you have to be illogically crude and rude to everyone 24-7?"
Her eyes simpered but thankfully the cook shouted out our number, interrupting another useless fight. His hand was shaking as he handed the tray over to Helga. Poor guy.
Still scowling, she propped herself on the stool right next to counter. Snarling when I came to sit next to her.
I chuckled at that, and my eyes wander outside only to snap back to hers.
"You do realize you forgot to put the alarm on, right?"
Helga rolled her eyes at me, scarfing down fries. "Like anyone would dare go near my car."
I huff at that, but Helga had kicked up quite the reputation over the years. "Anyway," She started not even bothering to finish chewing as she spoke. "How's your clan of bimbos?"
Leaning back slightly, I couldn't help but chuckle a little at that. "Jealous much? Don't hate me because I'm charming..."
She snorted bubbles in her ginger ale, a habit she developed in preschool and never let go. "Oh please, you've got as much charm as a slug."
"Just eat your food so we can get back to work."
Helga stopped chewing and peeked at me out of the corner of her eye. Before I knew it old Betsy was on top of my burger smashing it.
"This was your stupid idea to come by here." She took her last bite and jumped up.
Sometimes I can't believe how unreasonable frustrating she can be.
"Ah, what a bitch," I muttered, thinking endure whatever amount of time with this girl at the same time. Still, something about those thoughts excited me in spite of myself.
Helga POV
—-
After a painful drive to my house full of bickering and me slapping Arnold's hands away from the radio because he had terrible taste in music, we finally made it to my house.
"Next time you need a ride, call an Uber because I am not driving your lame ass around like a damn chauffeur, dealing with your shit every time we get together for this fucking project," I grumbled, walking to get a snack from the kitchen.
"My god, Helga, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" he asked, a hand resting on his chest in mock shock.
He walked to the couch and slumped down into it, taking the books out from his backpack. I walked into the living room, sitting at the other end of the couch, farthest from him.
"And I told you before already," he continued, "This is the only time you'll have to be picking me up and dropping me off. My parents are out of town and the borders are out are off doing god knows what with the remaining car. So, this will be the first and last time you'll be having to do a favor for me, thank god."
I rolled my eyes, huffing as I stuffed another chip into my mouth. Hurriedly, I grabbed the books and supplies from a side table where I had left them earlier, prepared and ready for our Saturday project session.
"Whatever. Did you bring that book we need?" I asked, studying some of the detail on our version of the Roman Coliseum.
"Yes, mother," He rolled his eyes, scooting down onto the floor, so he could work better on the structure we were close to finishing.
He'd laid the book on the table in a position that was easy for both of us to read. We worked in silence, except for our bickering of the placement of certain things and if it was perfect enough.
Arguing with him got me worked up in a way that I couldn't explain. Getting him mad was addicting. The way his eyebrows scrunched and his face flushed, veins in his neck and forehead bulging if I managed to really get under his skin. Not even halfway through, he'd thrown his snap back off, and his already messy hair had been ruffled with so many times it stood in all different directions. If I didn't hate him so much I'd say he looked adorable.
But I did hate him. And he most certainly was not adorable. Or hot. Regardless of what some sheep at school whispered about him. It only angered me more when I heard them talk about how delicious he looked, sweating in his gym clothes at school. Or them wondering if he was as good a kisser as everyone thought he'd be based on how his lips looked….
Whatever.
Some part of me was satisfied he'd been paired with me and not any of those girls. Because if they tried to make a move on him, with Rhonda's doing, it'd be must be in school. And instead of getting a googly-eyed girl stroking his ego, he'd ended up with me, someone who challenged him and wasn't a part of the football headed fan club.
In my reverie, I'd been leaning over our structure, not noticing the proximity my body had come into with Arnold's. My face was set in concentration while trying to glue a piece onto the structure. I was so lost in my thoughts so I didn't notice that the side of my body was pressed right up against the side of his. I needed another piece to attach to the piece I was already gluing on so I reached behind me to grab the bag of them off the side table.
This was a bad move. My breasts pressed flush up against Arnold's arm. He turned his upper body to me, a look of surprise on his face. I squeaked and lost my balance as I was leaning forward to reach the table behind him and instead ended up falling against him, our chests flush against each other now.
It all happened so fast that instead of putting us upright, Arnold fell with my force. I ended up on top of him, him lying under me and our startled breaths intermingling as we stared wide eyed at each other.
The first thing that registered was how solid and firm he was under me. I felt the muscles in his stomach contract through his thin Henley as our silence went on prolonged; we studied each other's faces. I had never noticed how long his eyelashes gotten or how he had a small scar just at the top of his forehead. I felt an urge to ask him how he'd gotten it.
But then his hands slid under the hem of my shirt and my brain fried. His hands felt large and warm, making my skin burn at the contact. My eyes slid shut as I felt his thumbs gliding over my skin in circles, caressing me in a way that made me want to moan.
That's when I snapped my eyes open. Realizing the inappropriate position I was in with a guy I absolutely loathed.
Nope, nope, nope! No way was I letting his annoying ass think he could seduce me. I jolted clumsily upright, still in shock of what I'd just done, what he'd just done. Instead of swiftly getting off him though, I ended up almost falling backward. My core was in a direct contact with his and I squeaked at the feel of a large bulge, as I awkwardly climbed off him, resisting the urge to grind down into him. He let out a strangled noise that almost sounded pained as I did this and my whole body flushed with heat.
Holy shit. My arch-nemesis just got a boner. And I caused it?
But I burned when I remembered - this wasn't the first time.