The next week, Helga lay on the Coco Hut stage, finishing up the last bite of some sort of granola bar and perusing a book. A purple pen rested on her stomach, rising and falling evenly with her breath.

The door opened and shut. She exhaled a distracted noise in acknowledgement. True to her form, Helga hadn't waited for him to unlock the door.

Figures. "You know, we should really find a way to fix that hole." He still hadn't gotten around to it during their time off from school. Whenever he wasn't stuck doing work around the boarding house, he'd had… other things to distract him.

At one point, Phil had caught him whistling with free abandon while wrapping one of the pipes. It didn't take long for him to coax out an embarrassed confession from his grandson that the situation with Helga had improved quite significantly. "What did I tell you, Hot Lips?" he'd cackled as he headed back up the stairs.

"You don't think it adds to the ambiance? I think it goes great with the furniture." Helga blindly pointed at a random chair behind her. It happened to be a newer find Sheena hadn't reupholstered yet.

Arnold walked his way to the piano and plopped down onto the bench. "So what do you have for me today?"

"Eh, wasn't too inspired this week."

"Really?" He let out a surprised sound halfway between a sigh and chuckle and played several arpeggios in rapid succession, warming up.

"Yeah, muse took a vacation. Sure was boring." Her eyes were fixed on the page above her head. She was chewing on the end of her pen.

"Ha. That so?" The bench ground loudly across the floor.

"Mm."

"Then you want to do something?" Arnold's face was suddenly looming, astonishingly closely, over hers.

After the initial jolt left her body, and after she groped wildly around for the pen that had fallen out of her mouth, Helga made the extreme effort to prop herself up on one elbow and leisurely reply, "What do you have in mind?" Her book closed with a snap.

Arnold had already taken a few shameless steps towards the door. "Oh, I don't know. Want to meet up with Phoebe and Gerald at the movies?" The question came out incredibly smoothly, as if he hadn't spent the entire journey there frantically rehearsing it to himself.

"Are they seeing that really stupid romantic comedy that just came out?"

"Probably."

"Hm. I'd rather claw my own eyes out."

"Why? I thought you were a romantic. You were a very convincing Juliet…"

She gave him a cold look, but he had her stuck.

He picked up her jacket from the table it was draped haphazardly over. "We can compromise and make them see that thrasher flick next time." Arnold felt a tiny thrill as he said the words next time.

"What, no food?" Drawn hypnotically towards him, she slid off the stage.

"Well, apparently some restaurants are already on the veto list…. We'll have to ask them."

"Huh?" Mesmerized, she stood there while he slipped her jacket around her shoulders.

"I'll explain later… maybe after the movie." He paused, considering something. "When we're alone."

They were walking to the door. Helga shot a weird look at him as she zipped up her jacket, which took him a second or two to process. "I-I mean, when they're not around. No, I mean when Gerald can't hear us—no! I mean—just never mind." He opened the door and held it for her, desperately willing himself not to slap a hand to his face. He missed Helga's insane expression of elation as he hurriedly ducked back inside to turn off the lights.

When they were halfway down the block, and after a stretch of slightly awkward silence, Arnold reached over and good-naturedly pulled Helga's book from the space between her arm and ribcage. "So what're you reading?"

"Hey!" Helga made a wild snatch in the air, but Arnold was too quick for her.

"Oh…" he had it opened to the last page. Whatever blush remained on his cheeks from before deepened considerably. He handed the book back gingerly, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Heh… uh… now you see why…"

Arnold strangled out a hasty "Yep."

"We should probably… drop this thing off at my house first."

"Agreed."

Detour made, Helga trotted down her front steps to Arnold who had lingered self-consciously outside. They headed off again towards the theater. When their hands lightly brushed each other, Helga didn't pull violently away. So he boldly laced his fingers through hers.

That's how Phoebe, beaming, and Gerald, grumbling about something, saw them from the boisterous and bundled-up line at the ticket counter, their forms almost silhouetted against the blue glow of the signs.

She was saying sternly as they approached, "It was an AND—not an OR—statement, Gerald. Simple logic."

"Yeah, yeah, just a technicality…" Phoebe held out a hand, and Gerald reluctantly slapped a wad of cash into it. "… It's only because it's the break. You know they've been—hey guys!" Gerald called brightly.

"Hey," waved Arnold.

Whatever Gerald was about to say next was cut off abruptly. "What's this crap I hear about banned restaurants?" Helga barked without preamble.

Arnold put his face in his hands and Gerald doubled over in a fit of hysterics.

"Would you get a load of these idiots? Boys are so weird…" Helga and Phoebe shook their heads at each other as they pushed cash through the slot to the ticket lady. Phoebe turned hastily to jab Gerald hard in the side as they all followed Helga through the double-doors.

After much poking and prodding and borderline interrogation during the previews (and mostly through mouthfuls of popcorn), when she finally learned the source of their laughter, she blustered furiously, "Well then we'll just have to go by ourselves, right Arnold?"

Gerald only guffawed harder until the person behind him kicked his seat.