Hi guys! This was a long wait for a rather mediocre chapter,but it was meant to ride with the last chapter. Then I decided I didn't like it all in a lump, so it sits a bit awkwardly on it's own. But I have a fondness, cause I was looking forward to this little man-time.

Also, I'm going to explain the disjointed jumping style of the first half of this. As this is first person, I feel Arnold is on a short fuse during his narration. Thus, it's disjointed, choppy, and rushed. I know this. I just don't want you guys wondering if I just gave up writing.

As always, song suggestions and such at the end!

remaining chapter count (for real this time) is one. I think I can sum this up in the next one. We'll see.

Even though I now had an inkling of an indication of how she felt about me, I had no idea what I was actually supposed to do with it. Was I supposed to run out after her? A resounding crack of thunder and the stinging in my cheek said it was probably a better idea to let her cool off before I attempted to chase her down and work things out. I bounced on the balls of my feet for a minute, feeling like I should still follow despite her mood. I could not only hear the rain, but I only had to look up to see the giant drops splattering against the glass. I had to at least make sure if she was going to run home in the rain that she made it there safely. I stumbled as I made my way down the stairs, deciding to just jump over the bottom half all together. I winced as I landed heavily on my feet, but I pressed on down the next set of stairs just as quickly. I pulled an umbrella from the small holder next to the door, opening it as I stepped out onto the steps.

The wind almost knocked me over, but I tried to plant my feet as best as I could against the slick the concrete. I peered down both directions of the sidewalk, but I saw absolutely no indication of her anywhere. It was as though she had completely vanished into the coming twilight, or she had held open her jacket and rode the wind like a flying squirrel.

God I needed to go back to bed.

There are a lot of things I need to do that I don't, so I drug myself into the kitchen with an air of depression lingering over me. I was still confused as ever, my face was stinging like I'd been punched by a boxer, I was suddenly feeling exhausted, and to top it all off Helga was upset with me. I don't know what to do with upset females. Should I get her another gift? Did I need a big apology? Did she even want to talk to me anymore? Why wasn't that one of the lessons?

I sighed heavily, dragging the percolator down from the cabinet and filling it with water and coffee grounds from grandma's somewhat elaborate stash in the back of the cabinet. I sat down heavily at the table, laying my head down on the cold wood as I tried to figure out what my next course of action was going to be. The deeper I got into the situation, the more I just wanted out. I was not mentally equipped to deal with all this emotional turmoil. I kind of wanted to talk about it, but I hated to call Gerald again. It wasn't like I had anything else to say other that what I had already said before. Of course I knew what I was waiting to hear. I was waiting for someone to give me a step by step plan of what to do that didn't end with the cliché "But it's your choice what you do." I didn't care that it was my choice. I wanted somebody else to tell me what to do, wasn't that the point of asking? The more I complained, the more hypocritical I started to feel. After all, for years I had always preached to do the right thing to my friends, but I had always let them make their own choices. Who was I to expect any one of them to do any different for me? I needed my coffee.

For the rest of the weekend I tried in vain to get ahold of Helga. I sent her text messages, left her voicemails. I waited for her to get online on any social media sites I knew she used, but it did nothing but frustrate me. I could see where she read the message, and then her status would go to offline. I came pretty close to just throwing my laptop against the wall at one point, but then I reminded myself I didn't have enough funds for another one. I even stopped by her house on Sunday afternoon. I could see where her mom was sleeping on the kitchen table, but no one came to the door when I knocked. I walked around to the side, knowing which window was Helga's. I saw a light, so I cupped my hands around my mouth and called, "It's me, Arnold! Please, why won't you just talk to me?" She responded by jerking the curtains shut, so I trudged home with the firm resolve that she would talk to me tomorrow. After all, we had classes together. She couldn't avoid me forever.

Unless she didn't come to school, which she chose not to do on Monday. I gave her the benefit of the doubt, refusing to believe she'd skip school over me. We would talk on Tuesday. She would be there on Tuesday.

I was right, and when Tuesday rolled around she marched into class with intent to kill. She would not look at me, she would not speak to me –she even opted out of being my partner in an assignment for Mr. Simmons's class, instead specifically asking to be put with Lila. I think I broke my pencil. I worked with Rhonda, and I don't remember anything she said to me the entire period other than 'Pay attention!'

I was going insane by this point, so I settled for my hastily decided on Plan B.

When lunch rolled around, I made sure I was poised and ready. I had a feeling Helga wouldn't actually come into the lunch room, knowing I would try and talk to her. So I'd have to settle for the next best thing.

"Phoebe," I called, waving to her as she carried her tray across the lunch room. She spotted me, then immediately flushed and looked away as though I had offended her.

Gerald shoved another handful of fries in his mouth, turning to look at me curiously. "Wha dith ya do?"

"I didn't do anything," I grumbled, not even hungry anymore. I pushed my tray away. "It's what Helga thinks I did, and that's the problem. I'm going to make Phoebe talk to me." Gerald merely blinked as I got up from the table and made my way over to Phoebe as though we were about to have a good old Western gunfight.

"Phoebe," I said coolly as I took a seat across from her at the small table she had chosen. There was no one else sitting except for Phoebe and myself. I was right in my earlier assumption.

"Arnold," she said in a curt tone, ripping the corner off of the packet of salad dressing she was holding. She took her time, and I knew she was stalling.

"Look, I need you to get Helga to talk to me," I finally caved, my voice pleading. She blinked at me in surprise, but I pressed on. "I know she's mad at me, but she won't even give me a chance to explain or apologize. I don't understand why she won't give me a chance. I know she has feelings for me, and I just-"

"I beg your pardon?" Phoebe squeaked in a voice so shrill, I covered my ears in protest. She slammed her fork down on the table. "You know she has feeling for you? You seem to be rather overconfident in yourself these days."

I blinked in surprise. Was this still Phoebe? "I'm…what?"

"You know, maybe she used to. But that was a long time ago. Honestly Arnold, for you to just lie to her like that."

"I never lied to her, not intentionally." I could feel my leg bouncing on the floor nervously. "I just…I really need her to talk to me."

Her face fell for minute, and she poked around at her salad. "Look Arnold, I'm going to be honest with you. Helga doesn't do well with getting attached to people, nor does she do well in showing her feelings. She was just really excited because her parents never go to her shows, and it really hurt her when she heard you'd made other plans for the same night. She thought she could count on you. So don't expect me to play mediator for you, because you don't know how many times you've put yourself in this same predicament without even knowing it."

I blinked as she grabbed up her tray and left me at the table, even more confused that I had been before.

So when Wednesday rolled around, I was in no place to turn away the guest at the door. It was just past nine and I was heading to the kitchen for a snack when a single loud knock echoed through the room. I blinked in confusion, peering around the room for a moment before making my way to the door. Maybe it was Gerald or something. I opened the door, any greeting I had meant to say getting stuck in the back of my throat.

We stood in an awkward silence for a moment before he said calmly, "Can I come in, or would you like to go out?"

"Out is good," I heard myself stammering, stepping out onto the stoop and shutting the door behind me.

He raised his eyebrow, looking at me curiously. "I'm sorry, is there a problem?"

"You threaten me," I admitted honestly, and he replied with a simple 'ahh' and a nod of his head. "You wanted something?"

"You want to go get something to eat?" he asked, and the question was so far from anything I expected that the only response I could manage was a swift nod of my head.

"Okay then," he said, and I wasn't sure if he was trying not to laugh at me, or starting to think I was complete lunatic.

He pushed his bike to the backyard, and we walked in a tense silence down the sidewalk. There was a small diner about three blocks from here, and we said nothing the entire walk. But honestly, I did know what to say to him. Here I was, average build, walking in the dark with a guy at least a head taller than me with muscles I could only dream of having. The leather jacket and spiked bracelet didn't help me feel any safer, so I was fine. If we weren't talking, I couldn't say something that would prompt him to beat the crap out of me. Instead, David opted to look at the mixture of dilapidated old buildings mixed with the newer. He didn't speak again until we sat down at a table, and even then I still found I wasn't really ready to have any sort of conversation with him.

"I suppose you already know why I'm here," he said coolly, flipping open one of the menus on the table.

My mouth felt really dry as I tried to reply in the same tone, "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. I know Helga must have said something, though I don't what."

"You'd be correct." He crossed his arms on the table and looked up at me with a serious expression. "Listen, you know our show is on Friday. We have one more rehearsal left, and Helga is doing very well, as always. But Helga is very driven by her emotions, and dance is meant to be an extension of that. So as well as she is doing, I can tell she's hurt. I happen to know you're the cause of it."

I dropped my gaze guiltily. "It was misunderstanding."

"So then help me understand it," he prompted. We paused as he ordered coffee and an omelet, and I ordered pancakes, for whatever reason.

"She never gave me a chance to explain!"

"So explain it to me, I already get that you didn't do that."

I frowned a bit at his tone, but continued. "She thought I lied to her. I didn't lie. I told her I had a date, and I told her I was coming to her show. I fully intended to come, after my date. I had it in my mind I'd be able to do both. I never actually lied," I reiterated.

He took a moment to stir his coffee before replying, "Do you have feelings for Helga?"

"Why, do you?" I shot back, blushing. I didn't see what that part had to with anything.

"Yes," he replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. I felt my stomach sink at his nonchalant tone, and I slumped in my seat. "We've gone on dates and I've brought up the subject of making it a bit more exclusive, but she's always declined." For whatever reason, that last bit gave me a bit of satisfaction. She had denied him. "Do you know why?"

I shook my head.

"Because of you." I swear my cheeks were on fire as he was sitting over there casually collecting creamer containers on a napkin. Me? Because of me? "Look, it's not my business, I know that. But I've always been a bit nosy, and I'm very nosy when it comes to people I care about. I care about Helga, I'm already aware of it. She's aware of it. So tell me, do you have feeling for her?"

"I just-"

"Dammit, answer the question!"

"Yes!" I blurted. He had looked like he was two seconds away from coming across the table.

"Then why are you worried about going on this date with the other girl?"

"You know, you're right to say it's not your business," I commented a bit bitterly, sipping on my coke. I didn't need him interrogating me.

He rolled his eyes as he laughed at me, and his laughing at me just made me all the angrier. "You do have a problem dealing with emotions, don't you?"

"It's…not manly," I retorted. I suddenly feared for my life again as he glared at me across the table.

"I'm starting to think you just resent me. Personally, I happen to know a lot of people think I'm gay because I dance, and frankly I don't give a shit. I also don't give a shit as to whether or not you think sharing your feelings is not manly, because the fact that you don't talk about them is probably how you ended up this way."

"I did talk about them! I just don't….know which way to go," I admitted. "Sorry, that was a stupid thing for me to say earlier. It's just hard," I sighed, leaning back in the booth with a groan. "I've liked Lila for a very long time. I mean, my feelings didn't just go away. And I don't know if the way I feel about Helga was a heat of the moment thing, or if it's supposed to be something more. But she won't even talk to me. I've barely seen her since Friday, so how am I supposed to know? She told me to not even come to the show on Friday."

"She still wants you to come," he said softly. "She still has your ticket on reserve for you."

I blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. Helga doesn't do stuff in halves. If she really wanted to cut you out of everything, she would have pulled your reservation, deleted your phone number, and burned any evidence of you away."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I guess." I squirmed a bit, drumming my fingers on the table. "But…Lila. I really don't want to pull out of our date. I mean, I spent two months trying to get her to say yes."

"Why? What makes her so special?" he asked, dropping his hands to his lap as our food was slid onto the table by a waitress who seemed a bit too friendly.

"If you boys need anything else, just let me know. If you want some dessert, honey, it's on the house."

We both stared awkwardly as she sashayed away. David coughed awkwardly. "You were saying?"

"There's just something about her I can't shake."

"I think you're just trying to take the easy way of this," he said with a shrug. "And I don't mean this in a bitter way at all, but man up."

"Easy way? What do you mean?"

"You lined up both because you couldn't say no. Okay, I got that. And it came down to you needing to make a choice. I feel like you're using Helga's comments she made in anger as a cop out and an easy way to make your decision."

"No. But Helga already said she didn't want me there. So that just leaves Lila, right?" I said lamely, poking at my food unenthusiastically. Okay, so maybe I was using a cop-out. But what if Helga still refused to talk to me after I went to the show? Would it be worth it?

"I thought Helga was giving you lessons. Didn't you learn anything?" he asked incredulously, his bangs covering his eyes as he looked down at the table.

"How much do you about Helga and me?" I asked curiously, suddenly feeling this was an unbalanced conversation.

"More than you'd like me to know, I'm sure."

"How'd you even find my house?" I asked, suddenly make a connection. He just grinned. I covered my face with my hands. "Look, Helga said she didn't want me to go. Until I hear from her that she wants me to go-"

"She's not going to tell you that!" he protested, but I shook my head.

"If she doesn't give me some indication before Friday that she still wants me there, I'm not going to force it. You asked me if I'd learned anything. The second lesson Helga taught me was to not be pushy and overbearing, and she asked me to stay out of her personal matters."

"There's always reading between the lines," David retorted, "which you seem to not be able to do." He threw some money down on the table as he stood up, frowning. "Look, you're a nice guy, but you are just dense as hell. If you end up with this other girl of yours, the one I also know broke up with you before, then you'll be without both of them. But coming to the show would mean something to Helga that you can't even begin to fathom. So take a moment to figure out which is 'manlier': they guy that does ballet and talks about his feelings and drove half an hour to stick up for his friend, or the guy who preaches 'do the right thing' but doesn't do it."

I was going to protest again, but his look silenced me. I sunk down in my seat at he left, and I wondered which of us really was more of man. It certainly didn't feel like me.

I spent a bit of time trying to decide what I wanted to be "David's theme"...so I was torn between two, and ultimately decided on "Ask the Lonely" by Journey.

Also, songs for this chapter in general, "Drive By" by Train I think is good for the pace of Arnold in the beginning, plus lyrics.

As for the second half, any Journey or good old alternative real 80s stuff works. It's a diner, and I think David is just made up of old music.