"I'm sorry, uh-"
Gertrude stopped her story to look over at Helga. "Yeah, I don't follow. What do you mean wait for you? I mean, you married 'im, so that's obviously not the end of that story."
Gertrude laughed quietly and gently elbowed Helga in the arm.
"The point is: opportunities can be missed all the time. You can't let fear stand in the way of a connection. You know what I'm talking about, right?"
Helga looked away, silent.
"Well you can stay up late, I know how you young kids are, partying till all hours, but this old lady's got to get some shut eye."
Helga huffed a laugh through her nose. "Sounds like a plan Grandma. I was just gonna head up back to bed too."
Gertrude's hands grasped Helga's shoulders and pulled her into a hug, "Give Arnold a kiss for me?"
"S-s-sure thing," Helga stammered.
Gertrude patted her gently on the cheek, "Good girl."
Helga padded her way back into Arnold's bedroom, overwhelmed by how loud the silence was, engulfing her in the stillness with only Arnold's breath rhythmically breaking through. She approached the bed in slow, measured movements, careful not to wake Arnold. She looked down at him, judging herself and him, their relationship, and how she was going to climb back into his arms.
Would he wake up and push her away? The emotions had been thick in the air last night, driving them to reach out to one another, but now, waking sobered from sleep, would he pull her close? Would he crave her presence and touch as she did his?
Sigh.
Only one way to find out.
The heels of her hands found the mattress, pressing down and supporting her as her knees scooted along the length of it, one swinging over Arnold's knees.
He stirred, and she held her breath, as he breathed in a broken yawn and stretched.
A large hand came down and rested on her knee. His eyes were still closed, but his thumb pad was driving her mad with soft strokes.
"You okay?" he asked hoarsely, his already mellow voice drowned in the haziness of sleep, deepening to a raspy, throaty sound.
"Yeah," she whispered, preserving the hushed tone of the room.
His whole hand moved up and down her thigh in a comforting gesture, one she was sure Arnold didn't mean to make sexual, but being the magnetic man he was, she couldn't help the embers that burned beneath his touch.
"Where did you go?" he questioned as she gently rolled onto her side of the bed and scooched under the covers. His hand searched for her and eventually he cracked open one eye, regarding her as she came closer, allowing him to finally find the curve of her waist and pull her to him.
"I just needed some water," she said in a soothing tone.
He breathed a sound of understanding.
"Did she trap you?" he asked. She muffled a laugh as her heart swelled, and it came out as a snicker. God, he knew his family well.
"No," she murmured, sighing in contentment as her face fit into the crook of his throat again, "She didn't trap me. She helped me find a cup and then we talked a little. Don't worry."
He sighed this time, his warm breath washing over the top of her head and his body melted into hers. Man, she wished she could snapshot this moment.
"Okay," he said, closing his eye and shuffling into her.
Missed opportunities.
Now that was an understatement.
Helga was proud of herself for not pushing him away here, but she . her lifetime with the flaxen-haired angel that she couldn't almost forgot that they were even opportunities. She saw them as never-ending blows to her soul, something that she would always have to fight, no matter what. Arnold was an unattainable man for the likes of her, but wow. The torture she suffered at his unbeknownst hand, and all because she was a coward.
She couldn't banish the memory of their last close encounter, one that if she read differently seemed like an expression of interest from him….maybe if she were any other girl. But she wasn't any other girl. She was Helga G. Pataki, and he would never again look at her the way he did that night.
The reception space was tastefully decorated.
"I'm pretty impressed," Rhonda said breezily, looking around as she sipped on one of the specialty wedding cocktails.
Helga tried not to take immediate offense to the self-appointed fashonista (who actually was a clothing designer...so apparently that title fit now) tone, but still ground out, "Why do you sound so surprised?"
Rhonda of course paid no heed to the way the question was posed, but only answered. "Well, not so surprised. Phoebe and Gerald have both always been stylish in their own individual ways, but of course I don't always see eye to eye with them when it comes to fashion, but this wedding has been the most tasteful of which I have ever had the privilege to attend."
It was true. Helga was thankful for the classic beauty of the wedding her best friend had decided upon, keeping the colors red and black. That forgiving detail alone allowed Helga to wear a buttery black halter gown instead of any gaudy, shiny fabric that wouldn't know flattering if it bit it on the ass. The cut clasped behind her neck and hugged her shoulder blades, leaving the expanse of her back open to just above the dimples of her hips while the front had a modest plunge. It was probably the most flattering dress Helga had ever worn. Wasn't there a saying when it came to taking attention away from the bride?
Helga let an unladylike snort find its way out of her. As if anyone could look away from Phoebe for a second, let alone for her. She was absolutely stunning in a wedding kimono, with the outer robe a white silk, and inner obis gradient shades of red to cherry blossom pink. Instead of a headdress, her hair was pulled back into a sweeping updo, decorated with delicate pins and flowers that had been hidden under her head dress before the reception. Gerald had worn a classic tuxedo, though he insisted to Phoebe he would wear traditional garb, but she had kindly reminded him that it was his wedding too.
"Well," he had replied, "My wedding's gonna have a DJ and tons of dancing." His then-fiancee had agreed. Phoebe herself seemed to be having a great time dancing with her new husband on the dance floor, surrounded by the people who they have stayed friends with longer than Helga would have ever imagined. 'I mean, really...the fact that Sid was in the wedding party makes my head spin. Whatever, I am staying well away from that hardwood where our friends of twenty plus years are busy making fools of themselves. In the mean time: food,' she thought to herself.
The cake had already been cut, and with all of the slices available to guests there was also a fairly wide range of dessert options, ranging from cheesecake to the crowning glory that Helga was beelining toward: the four-teared chocolate fountain...next to which a smaller man with greasy black hair was eyeing the confection with poorly veiled temptation.
"Oh, Chocolate Boy. What's up?" Helga greeted boisterously, giving an aggressive head nod. The man's face instantly contorted into a frown that he leveled at the blonde.
"I told you not to call me that! I haven't eaten chocolate in almost 15 years."
Helga faltered slightly, but not visibly, instantly recovering. "Yeah, well, old habits and all that. Been calling you that since I've known you. Sorry. Anyway, Eric," (Man that sounds weird) "Having a good time?"
Helga nearly gagged at her own small talk when he leveled her with a disdaining look and turned to walk away.
"Yeah, well. Not like we have much in common to talk about, buddy boy," she muttered under her breath. It was just as well that he left. Savoring the smooth sweetness of the chocolate fountain in front of that guy would be like getting drunk in front of an alcoholic. Not her problem, but she'd still feel weird enough that she wouldn't be able to enjoy herself.
Now, what do dip? Strawberries were obviously out of the question...the marshmallows seemed like an odd choice...thank the stars there were some other berries: raspberries should go well, oh, and blueberries, kiwis.
The choices of fruit that were available to her were small and bite sized, and even with the skewer, it was messy work. By the time she had a few choco-fruit kabobs ready to be ingested, she had licked her fingers once or twice to get any remaining chocolate off, careful of her meticulously applied make up.
Satisfied with her current level of spoils, Helga turned to find a seat at a table instead of hovering over the confections like a vulture only to meet the green eyes of Arnold.
In his hands, he held two glasses of red wine and on his face he sported a—in Helga's opinion—ridiculously goofy smile, one typically sported by people who were a little more than buzzed.
His wide smile shifted into one of mild chagrin as his gaze dropped to her hands.
"Here I was trying to be a nice guy and offer you some wine, but you have your hands full with chocolate!" he lamented with blooming humor.
Helga scoffed. "There's these things that were invented a little while ago; they're called tables. If we can find one, I can put my plate down and accept your humble offering." She was more than comfortable playing along with joking banter between the two of them. Often, their conversations devolved into such an interaction.
"Will this one please the madam?" Arnold asked, raising his eyebrows and holding the glasses of sloshing liquid ahead of him, using them to gesture towards a hightop table. No chairs, but it would serve the purpose of relieving them of their tasty burdens.
"I suppose," she said, pretending to sound waspy and aloof.
Arnold laughed at their antics, and for once, she didn't feel so self conscious about laughter in her direction, at least not when she was purposefully inciting it...just like when she did impressions at the Coco Hut.
Helga thanked Arnold for the wine, grateful that Phoebe again made (too many, in her opinion) concessions for her, double checking that none of the fruit drinks had strawberry in them. Silence began to stretch, aided by the near deafening beats pulsing from the speakers.
"Gerald and Phoebe," Arnold started, pausing to take a sip. "Who would have ever guessed."
Helga rolled her eyes as she pulled a piece of fruit off the end of a skewer. "Literally anyone, Arnoldo."
"Seriously?" Arnold asked, gaping slightly.
"Yeah, seriously. Come on, football head. Those two have been crazy about each other since we were kids! You can't tell me you never noticed." She took another bite and then took a sip of whatever red blend was in her glass, letting the flavors of the fruit, chocolate, and wine mingle. Mmm.
"Well, yeah, once they started dating, it made sense, but before I never really noticed. But, I guess I've never been good at that?"
"Mr. Sensitive-To-Everyone's-Feelings never noticed how totally enamored his best friend was with my best friend?"
Arnold shrugged, taking a sip of his own wine and making a harsh sound as he swallowed a little too quickly, wanting to reply immediately.
"Well, no. But I've never been good with that type of thing. I'm usually oblivious to people's subtle clues when it comes to romantic interest. Heck, I can never even tell when a girl's hitting on me."
Helga didn't look at him, focused as she was in moving a berry up to a reachable area of her skewer with her tongue, trying not to get chocolate on her face.
She did find time to sneer at him once the tart, sweet treat was in her mouth. "Ugh, of course you don't. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?"
"I can imagine," he conceded, smiling and supporting his face in his own hand, cheekbone to heel, as he regarded her in a half-lidded gaze that she tried to ignore and not squirm under. "Is there something I should know, since I frustrate you so much."
Helga sputtered around the sip of wine, the sharp blow of air from her nose splattering some of it against the smoothly curved glass it rested in.
"I never said you frustrate me, football face. Just the sheer density, which I have encountered with other guys, is frustrating." Stellar save, Helga, real smooth.
"Mmm," he hummed in assent, leaning towards her, voice low and teasing as his eyebrows raised. "And I'm sure you're just an expert in reading people's body language."
"Probably better at it than you," Helga retorted in a clipped tone.
"You've never been oblivious to someone's attentions?" he asked skeptically.
Helga scoffed in what she hoped sounded less bitter than she felt, "What attentions? Please, if I have a 'someone' that I have somehow been ignoring, enlighten me."
Then Helga jerked back, Arnold suddenly having stepped close and in her personal space. She leaned away, but was stopped by his large, warm hand, spread across her lower back.
A blush blossomed on her cheeks, red and possibly spreading to her ears as his eyes locked onto her mouth, a lazy smiled playing on his lips. Arnold licked his own and ('dear God') bit his lip as his face drifted closer.
The DJ was yelling something, this voice blaring over the speakers, but it all faded away, the loudest thing in the room was the blood pounding in her own ears. Arnold raised a hand and brought his thumb pad to her bottom lip, dragging it along the slack oral muscle. Arnold's eyes were on hers as he painstakingly slowly made this movement. A breath escaped her slightly open mouth in a pant and she felt herself rock towards him.
As he pulled his hand away and revealed his thumb to her gaze, she noted the brown smear of chocolate. Oh.
Reality started to come back gradually until she heard the DJ calling out again, this time she realized he was thanking the guests for coming, congratulating the couple, and calling for a speech...from the best man...who was standing right in front of her.
Helga immediately felt embarrassed for even considering that Arnold had been coming onto her when he was simply wiping her mouth off, but she could have sworn she saw it. But...no, she must have been mistaken, she thought, color reaching down her neck now in embarrassment.
Arnold, however, didn't seem to be rushing up to the DJ stand to take the mic. Instead, he brought his thumb to his lips and opened his mouth, pushing the digit into it and closing his lips around it. He sucked the chocolate right off, keeping eye contact with Helga and there it was again, the thing she swore she saw. Unmistakable: the heat in his eyes and Helga heard herself let out a whimper. Oh, God, he heard me. That's why he's smiling like that.
Arnold withdrew his thumb from him mouth and fixed her with a grin. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."
Then he was gone, jogging up to where the microphone was being held out to him, just in time for the bride and groom to sit at the head table.
Helga's heart was hammering in her chest as he started his speech, sincere and not at all corny like most speeches made by best mans.
"Cheers to the happy couple!" he finished, raising his glass to invite everyone in a toast. "May we all be lucky enough to realize when The One is right in front of us."
Arnold's eyes locked with Helga's.
sigh...I love Arnold being flirty :D hope you guys did too!