"Other places always make me sad, no other city ever made me glad except New York." - I Love New York, Madonna

"A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts." - Unknown

Twenty-One Forever - Chapter Three

Fifteen minutes later, Arnold and Gerald were pacing on the roof of Helga's apartment, simultaneously running their hands through their hair. The atmosphere on the roof was very tense.

"Arnold, man, what were you thinking? You keep forgetting why we're here!"

Arnold stopped pacing and faced his friend, "To visit Helga."

"That's Phoebe's reason! We're here to get you used to the area!" Gerald slapped the back of his right hand into his left palm to emphasize his point. "You've never been on your own before, much less in a new city, and you start school in two weeks!"

"But I won't be alone!"

"If you keep up with that 'beautiful' shit you will be!"

Taken aback by the bluntness of Gerald's point, Arnold slid against the side of the roof, leaning his head back against the concrete. "What makes you say that?"

Gerald finally stopped pacing, but he kept his arms locked tight behind his back. "Phoebe told me everything." Arnold couldn't help but stiffen under Gerald's downcast glare.

"Be a little more specific."

"I don't know how much clearer I could be," Gerald muttered, eyes pointed up towards the steel gray sky. "I know that Helga was in love with you. Poems, shrines, the whole deal. Phoebe told me after you left, but I knew it just couldn't be true. My fifteen-year-old mind was blown away. . . . and yet the more I kept thinking about it, the more it made sense. And then when you started asking about her in your letters it all started to fit together."

"What are you talking about?"

"You liked her too. Deny it all you want, but everyone saw you two become incredibly close during seventh grade. Whatever happened, you guys just became friends, tolerating each other and helping each other and just acting different."

"Nothing unusual happened. Everything was the same as always. Our families both took summer vacations to the beach, we hung out, went back to school -"

"Wait, you hung out at the beach together?"

"Yeah. Ever since our families booked the same house in fourth grade, we just always went back. Even if we weren't in the same house, we'd call each other and hang out."

"Interesting," Gerald mused. "Wait a second. You're not denying that you liked her."

"I just sort of figured it was obvious," he shrugged before returning to his feet. "I mean, by the end of seventh grade I couldn't have a conversation with her unless it was giving advice because I'd fumble and stutter like an idiot."

"I wonder why I didn't notice?"

Arnold laughed, "You were too busy sucking Phoebe's face off every chance you got."

Gerald nodded. "But seriously, after all this time, you still like her? I mean, you had this look on your face at the diner, this overwhelmingly creepy look of adoration that I thought you had fallen in love with her or something. I know how you work, Arnold, and with one look you're head over heels. Think of every girl you've ever liked. . ." Arnold nodded, realizing his friend had a valid point. "I'm so freaked out right now."

"Why did you take it back?"

Why did you take it back? . . .No answer.

Why did you take it back? Heat of the moment.

Why did you take it back?

. . .Because I'm scared.

Helga covered her face with a pillow and screamed in frustration. This wasn't happening. Now was not the time for a mental breakdown. Why did Phoebe go check into their hotel now?

"You okay?" her roommate asked as she appeared out of her bedroom. She rested her arm against the back of the couch and smiled at Helga.

Helga nodded, ignoring the painful tug in her throat. "We're having a party tonight, down at Johnny's place. Invite everyone I know and get lots of alcohol."

"Why am I in charge of planning this party?"

"Because you love me and have nothing else to fill the empty void in your life since we're not in school?" Helga batted her eyelashes for added effect.

Her roommate groaned before grabbing her purse and keys off the counter. "I hate you" was the last thing she said before shutting the door.

Helga released another cry before jumping to her feet and slamming her fist into the wall. She needed to shower. The combination of hot water and peaceful solitude would provide the perfect environment to figure everything out.

Helga locked the bathroom door and began pacing while her showered warmed up. Why was she so freaked out? She knew this day would come, the day she came to terms with everything she'd been ignoring. As the steam began to overflow in the bathroom, Helga peeled off her clothes and slowly inched her way under the burning water.

"I'm okay," she muttered to herself, "Nothing to freak out about. Arnold's just talking about fourth grade again like it's no big deal, no need to panic." Oh my god, I'm doing it again! She hadn't talked out loud to herself in such a long time. "Everything will be alright. I mean, it's not like I've actually - " her voice trailed off. Helga slammed her head into the wet tile, letting the tears mix in with the burning water that streamed down her face.

She hadn't cried this much in eight years.

After storming off Arnold's roof, Helga sprinted back to her house. Her feet had never carried her that fast in her life. Tears were becoming choked with gasps for air. She darted up her stairs, ignored Big Bob's shouts, then curled up into a ball on her floor. She was a puddle of emotions, just lying on her hard wood floor. It was there, in her mess of tears, that she decided to leave. To run. She only had a few hours since Bob and Miram were going to the airport to get Olga.

Helga tore into her closet, packing only a few clothing items before breaking down her bubble gum Arnold statue. Knowing Olga, she'd tear through every nook and cranny trying to find a clue for her sister's whereabouts. Helga packed away her pink notebooks into the attic, hoping her family would forget to look there.

In sixth grade, Helga started saving all the money she could, just in case Bob ran into financial trouble and couldn't pay for a college education. At that moment, Helga could care less about college, so she snatched up all her money in order to buy a train ticket and food. It was only two thousand dollars, not enough to buy her way into an apartment or hotel room at a young age. Whatever, it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that she was getting away.

Deciding to save her family the trouble, Helga wrote NEW YORK on a piece of paper, stuck it on the fridge, dropped her cell phone on the counter, and left. Helga cried the whole walk to the airport, only stopping for a little while on her flight when she slept, and for her first few days in New York.

After being rescued and enrolled in Franklin High School, Helga forced herself to be distracted. She tried different sports, worked hard in school, joined a rec center, made friends, wandered around the City every weekend, and went to tons of parties. She didn't start to experiment with alcohol until the end of her sophomore year, and that was the beginning of the end for her. She lost her virginity to a guy in the bathroom while she was drunk at her second party of the summer. Parties became the thing, whether she threw them or attended them, all she did was drink from Friday until Sunday. She spent most of her Mondays hungover, and her guidance counselor tried really hard to control Helga. Helga didn't really listen to her, and the counselor didn't put up a fight.

After graduation, Helga was contacted by Olga. Surprised and scared out of her mind, Helga agreed to meet her. Olga simply handed Helga a check, telling her to turn in her deposit for college. Olga asked for Helga's address, and that was it. She was gone. No questions about why she left or if she was going to be coming home. It was weird, but Helga didn't think too much about it. Maybe Olga understood her, or maybe Olga just gave up caring. Either way, Helga was happy to be getting money every month from her parents.

Thinking back now, Helga could remember the pain. Her beloved was gone, and she was essentially alone, with no one but her heartbreak to keep her company. It was a rough time, but Helga blocked it out with drinking, sex and dancing.

And those eight years of locked up emotions swirled back violently, causing Helga to cry again. Somehow she ended up on the floor of the shower, curled up in a ball, letting the cold water pelt her skin. Helga continued to sob.

"Helga!"

Helga forced her hand over her mouth.

The bathroom door flew open and Helga screamed out of surprise. "What?" she hissed.

"Are you okay?"

Helga returned to her feet and turned off the water, "Fucking fabulous, alright Football Head. Get out! I'm in the shower!"

Arnold backed away and returned to the living room only to see Gerald doubled over, laughing. "I told you not to go in there."

Helga emerged in her robe a few minutes later, "Why don't you guys go to your hotel? Phoebe's been there for almost an hour now."

Gerald kept his attention focused on the TV, "We don't know where it is."

"And calling her would be too difficult because. . .?"

"We're comfortable," Gerald shrugged and sunk deeper onto the couch. Arnold smirked, "I'll call her."

"Good. You guys come back here at seven, alright? And dress nicely, Johnny's a little bit like someone else we know."

"What does that mean?" Gerald asked as he tugged open her apartment door.

Helga smirked, arms crossed over her chest, "Does the word soiree mean anything to you?"

Knock knock.

Helga jumped off her couch, wrapping her robe around her half-clothed body and opened the door. She assumed that her roommate grabbed the wrong set of keys, or couldn't get to them with all of her bags of alcohol. She opened the door to see. . ."Helga?"

"Shit!" she replied before slamming the door shut in Alex's face.

Alex counted to five before knocking again.

"Just a second!" Helga screamed as she struggled to pull her jeans over her legs. Fucking skinny jeans! she cursed as she tripped over the ends of them, falling to her face in the kitchen. She forgot about her step down from her bedroom to the living room.

"Alright," Alex replied.

In her panic, Helga never put on a shirt.

"Hello," she exhaled and opened the door. Alex smirked, "I have your coat."

"Thanks." Helga forcibly removed it from his hands. She watched as his eyes shifted and traveled down her body. It was an unsettling feeling, especially since she was sober. "Do you mind?"

Alex blushed, "Sorry. I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight."

Gotta give kids props for being persistent, Helga thought as she put on her disappointed face. "I can't, I'm so sorry. My friends and I are going out to celebrate their arrival."

"Where are they now?"

"Their hotel," she replied, suddenly realizing she just left herself wide open for the afternoon. Shit. "But I actually have to get ready, I need to go get drinks and stuff for a party."

"Oh, yeah, Johnny's thing, right?"

"How did you hear about it?"

"He Tweeted," Alex handed over his iPhone, "'PARTY 2NITE MY PLACE. THANK HELGA PATAKI.' I didn't even now you knew him."

"Yeah, Johnny and I go way back," she shifted awkwardly and walked farther back into her apartment.

"That's cool. Anyway, he said it's open house. . .Wait, why am I telling you this? You already know."

"Yeah, I really need to go though, so I just. . .please."

Alex could sense Helga's odd sense of panic. "Alright. I'll see you later then?"

"Yeah, at the club," Helga waved her hand to dismiss him. Alex shrugged before shutting the door.

As Alex returned to the cold of the street, he felt as if maybe pursuing Helga was something he should give up.

Johnny owned the entire building and had the first five levels emptied out and opened up to be a giant dance floor with bars at every corner. He had a club in his house! He opened it at eight every night and closed it around three, depending on the crowds. He charged a low admission and allowed in more people than recommended, but made tons of money on selling drinks. He had a strict dress code that required girls in dresses and guys in button downs and nice pants. He preferred his club goers looking classy, even though the club was barely decorated. The walls were painted black and there were disco balls hanging from the sixth floor, where Johnny built in very large shelves to seat V.I.P.'s in booths. The "shelves" were like a catwalk in a theater, except wider and nailed to the wall. They formed a frame around the dance floor and were the prefect way to let Johnny watch the happenings in his house.

The seventh floor was empty except for bathrooms and a smoking room with a large window that let the air circulate out into the street. The eighth was where Johnny lived, and the last three levels were smaller versions of the club downstairs reserved for smaller parties. Helga's was originally going to be held on the eleventh floor, but Johnny decided to call in a thousand more people and opened up his whole club. Everyone that Helga had invited suddenly became intermixed with the club-goers from Johnny's guest list, but Helga didn't care. She left her roommate, Alex, Phoebe, Gerald and Arnold back on floor eleven while she thanked Johnny on the shelves.

"Johnny, you are an absolute doll," Helga sloppily kissed his cheek and tousled his slicked back black curls.

"I know, baby, I know," he laughed and leaned to his right, draping his arm around the stunning brunette who looked as if she just walked off the set of a fashion show. "That's Helga," Johnny pointed, "and it was her idea for the party!"

The girl giggled and raised her martini glass into the air, "To Helga!" she cheered. Everyone else around Johnny's large circular table threw their drinks into the air, echoing the model girl's exclamation. Helga shrugged before finishing her Vodka and Tonic.

"I'm off!" Helga jumped to her feet and walked back to her friends.

Phoebe and Gerald were curled up on a couch together, talking and slowly drinking. Gerald was drinking a whiskey on the rocks and Phoebe had a very pink and fruity drink in a martini glass.

Arnold was sitting at the bar, talking with Alex and laughing. Helga practically shrieked at the sight. Arnold did seem a little tipsy, though. He was swaying too much on the spinning bar stool and he was laughing an awful lot.

"Helgaaa!" Her roommate slurred her words, draping her arm around Helga's shoulders, slamming the almost empty bottle of Tequila into Helga's chest. "The bottle's almost doneeee! Body shots!"

"I'm so in!" Alex cheered, chugging the last of his drink. Gerald and Phoebe made their way to the bar to watch, Gerald hysterically laughing.

"Get down!"

Helga was shoved onto the bar, but quickly whispered into her roommates ear, "Do not let Alex near me!" Her roommate winked before grabbing Arnold's shoulders, "You're up dude!"

Arnold was definitely buzzed. Maybe even a little more than that. He wasn't really sure what he was being instructed to do right now, so he just nodded as he was handed the shot glass.

Gerald could not control himself, he was gasping for air as he continued to laugh. He whipped out his phone, recording the entire thing.

Helga quickly stuck the lime in her mouth before laying back on the counter. She shut her eyes, ignoring Gerald's snickers, and waited for someone to put the salt on her. She felt the crystals being applied to her neck, so she tipped her head back even farther to expose more skin. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, she could feel Arnold staring at her.

Arnold didn't know what was weirder, his uncontrollable animalistic urge to just bruise her neck with his lips and teeth, or the fact that he found none of this situation weird. He had to be really drunk.

Ignoring his instincts, Arnold leaned forwards and licked the salt off of Helga's neck in one long stroke, leaving her with a kiss on her jawline before taking the burn of the alcohol in the back of his throat only drove him farther and he quickly sucked on the lime, fully removing it form Helga's mouth with a slip of his tongue.

Helga was frozen into a catatonic state. She went numb from the press of his hot, thick tongue against her neck. Her mind stopped working when he kissed her, and she was pretty sure her heart exploded when he took the lime out of her mouth. Good God, she was imagining some really nasty things that Arnold could do with that tongue.

"Another!" Gerald announced, pouring more Tequila into Arnold's shot glass. Phoebe held the camera now, watching with amusement as Helga applauded. Her roommate quickly unzipped the back of Helga's dress, removing her long sleeves from her shoulders slowly. "Stop teasing me!" Helga hissed, swatting away her roommate.

Helga returned to her original position on her back, laughing as the salt touched her stomach. Her roommate splashed a little on her chest and black lacy bra, hoping Arnold would notice it. She may have known absolutely nothing about Helga and Arnold's past, but she could feel the intense sexual tension between the two. There was a definite attraction there, and it seemed to be really emotional as well. But what did she know? She was drunk and could've been imagining it.

The alcohol was making Arnold feel extremely confident. Normally he never would've even thought about doing one, let alone two, body shots off Helga, but here he was, half-drunk out of his mind with a half-naked Helga getting ready to lick salt off of her torso. She bit the end of the lime, holding it in between her teeth, smiling.

Arnold leaned forwards and licked the path from Helga's bellybutton up to her chest, tongue dipping over the fabric of her bra before removing the last grains of salt off her breasts.

He downed the shot in seconds flat, removing the lime with more force before kissing her gently.

Helga was mentally declaring herself brain dead after that happened.

Gerald hollered and pumped his fist into the air before Phoebe stopped recording. He knew tomorrow was going to be fun.

Helga was dizzy with emotions, most prominent was drunken arousal, but she rose to her feet, adjusted her dress and searched the room for her purse. "I need a cigarette," she announced to no one in particular before disappearing into the club.

Arnold felt like he was going to vomit. It could have been from the Tequila shots he downed, the fact that he could still taste Helga's perfume on his tongue, or just the idea of actually having done a body shot off of her that was making his stomach knot. He stumbled out of the party and down a hallway, hoping to find a bathroom. He opened up the first door and only found stairs. Still a little dizzy, Arnold made his way up the stairs and found himself on the roof of Johnny's house.

"Whoa!" The slap of cold air to his face definitely sobered him up, but the view of the city was incredible! It was so much busier than Hillwood. Dozens of taxis flew down the avenue to the left of the building and all of the apartment lights were still on the building across the street. Groups of drunken young adults were marching from one club to the next, with a few stumbling into Johnny's building.
Helga jumped out of her skin at the sound of the door slamming. "Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?"

"Why are you smoking?" Arnold asked, reaching forwards and plucking the cigarette from Helga's lips.

"I always smoke when I'm drunk," she replied, watching the ashes burn out on the ground. She made no movement to get another.

"Why not in the smoking room?"

"Too many people," she shot back.

Maybe that knot in his stomach was from the fact that he knew he had to tell Helga why he was here and he was afraid to see how she'd react.

Helga turned her attention back to leaning on the edge of the roof. "When are you guys leaving?"

"Saturday." I'm coming back less than two weeks after that.

"Flying on New Year's Eve? I'm surprised you guys are staying for the festivities," Helga laughed and pulled her dress sleeves tighter over her shoulders. Arnold wished he had his jacket with him to put on her shoulders.

"My parents want me home," Arnold said, "first New Year's in the states and everything."

"Right, I forgot, Phoebe mentioned that in the e-mail." Helga pursed her lips as the awkward silence settled in. She tapped her fingers against the concrete. For some reason she could never shut up when she was drunk, "Think you'll ever come back to New York?"

Did Helga already know? Was she hinting at this? "I know Phoebe and Gerald want to during the summer. I know I'll be back sooner, though."

"Why?" Helga chuckled, "This place sucks during the winter."

This was it. Now or never. "I'm, uh. . .actually a student here, at the NYU Steinhardt School of Culture, Education and Human Development."

Helga could've sworn her brain just rewired itself, because there was no way that just came out of Arnold's mouth. It wasn't the fact that the school had a ridiculously long name, it was the fact that the school was a branch of New York University. New York. He'd be living in the same city she was.

"R-really?"

"Yeah," he replied, suddenly feeling very at ease since Helga wasn't screaming. "I start January 10th. Gerald wanted me to come and see the city, take in some sights so I wouldn't feel so out of place. He was worried about me not being able to adjust to life after San Lorenzo, which is stupid, I'm totally fine-"

"Shut up!" Arnold bit his lip, realizing he had been rambling to fill the silence. "I can't fucking believe this! You're moving here?" Arnold nodded. She looked at him, eyes narrowed with suspicion for a minute before declaring, "God, I need a drink."
Arnold was faster than Helga, and he quickly blocked her from returning to the party. Helga tried to shove his arm off the doorway, "Move!"

"Talk to me," he begged.

She continued to struggle, but Arnold had a vice-like grip on the door frame. "No!"

"You don't need to drink your problems away, it's not healthy. You won't be twenty-one forever, Helga, and one day you won't be able to bounce back as easily."

"Then who says I need to bounce back?" she hissed.

"Don't talk like that." Helga rolled her eyes while crossing her arms over her chest. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Well, you're kind of freaking out," Arnold's hold on the door relaxed, "I'd like to know why."

"Don't make me say it," she whispered. Arnold leaned in closer to hear her, but instead of repeating herself Helga locked her lips shut. Arnold continued to stare at her and Helga found it hard to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. He just looked so damn concerned that Helga found herself wanting to open up.

"Just talk to me Helga."

"Don't tell me what to do, Football Head! If I don't want to talk about the fact that you're moving here, then I don't have to! I need to go back to the party!" Helga shoved Arnold back and made it to the door before feeling herself stop. She tried to push herself forward, but instead her heels stayed grounded on the roof. Damn it.

"I left Hillwood to get away from you," she announced suddenly, eyes still focused on the door in front of her.

Arnold perked up, lifting his eyes from staring at the street below to stare at the back of Helga's head. "But I was leaving."

"Don't remind me." Helga finally spun on her heels and faced Arnold. He had back himself up against the edge of the building, giving Helga the chance to leave if she wanted. "I ran away to escape the pain of losing you."

No anger. No sarcasm. No bullshit. Arnold didn't know how to respond for a second. "I wasn't going to be gone forever-"

"Yes, you would have. And you were. Everyone knew that once you found your parents you'd never want to leave. It was a big deal for you to find them, and I'm happy that you did. You deserved happiness. I just. . .I always ruined everything with you."

"No, you never ruined -"

"Oh, that's right I forgot, we had nothing." Helga laughed dryly.

"That's not true. Don't you remember?. . .Seventh grade? The beach?"

Helga visibly straightened, but lied with a simple "No."

Arnold stepped closer, looking Helga up and down to take in her body language. He knew she was lying, she continued to fidget under his gaze. "Yes you do," he teased, taking two more steps closer. Helga backed up into the door, hand turning the handle.

"No, I don't!" She opened the door behind her. Arnold stopped walking and held his hands up. "I'm going to get another drink. I expect you gone when I get back," she demanded before slamming the door.

Arnold counted to thirty before making his way back into the overcrowded and extremely hot welcoming party. He listened to the intense dubstep sounds pounding through Johnny's stereo system, but his mind was playing the sound of the ocean's waves crashing under a full moon.

She remembered that summer night, he knew she did.