SOPHOMORE, UNIVERSITY

Arnold groaned when Helga kicked open his door, her hands full. A bowl was placed on top of a book, which she carried with one hand, and with the other, a glass of water.

"Go away, Helga."

She snickered and put the glass down on his nightstand, followed by the soup. "Shut up. You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry." His voice was nasally and she tried not to laugh. Arnold had been sitting up, his back resting against the headboard and was wrapped tightly in a thick, pink blanket. His arms were pinned to his lap and chest; he looked absolutely ridiculous. He was even covering his head with the damn thing.

Her dorm had been freezing last winter so it was one of her best purchases for the room. Arnold had swiped it from the closet a week ago because of how awesome it was during these cold nights. At least with how it kept him warm. Although their shared rental house was much warmer than her old dorm, she knew she was going to need it soon. Lucky for him, he'd be getting one for Christmas this year. That is, if he didn't snoop and find it first.

"I don't care. You need to eat. And drink. Otherwise you're never going to get over this."

Arnold had been sick for the last day. And while he rarely got sick, when he did, he morphed into this angry, irritable creature that kind of scared her. The first time he had gotten sick, she had tiptoed around him, trying to avoid him during classes and he had stayed sick for almost a week.

The second time she and his mom locked him in his room and had to force-feed him medicine after four days of a high fever. This time she was nipping it in the bud. Why couldn't he be one of those cute, needy guys when under the weather? At least then she'd be able to manage him.

He narrowed his eyes at her and pulled the blanket tighter around him. "No."

She countered his glare. "If you don't, then I will dump this on your bed and you'll be forced to sleep in wet sheets."

"I don't care," he sniffed. And then coughed. Helga knew threats wouldn't work, but it's what she was good at; at least she could try.

"C'mon, it's good. And homemade. I slaved for over an hour making this, just so you can get better."

"You wasted your time." So much for begging.

She sighed, trying not to get annoyed with him, and pulled at the blanket to get his hands free.

"No!"

She laughed when he tried to bite her, trying not to think that he was serious. The dude was really scary when sick.

"C'mon, Football Head. This is getting old and I'm tired of playing nurse."

"You're the one trying to kill me with your witch's brew, you…witch. With your witch's brew." He groaned and buried his face in the blanket.

She sighed knowing she would have to pull a card that she hoped would work, and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. "Look, I'll make a deal with you. If you eat, I'll read you my favorite book when I'm sick." Which was never, but the book was very dear to her.

He rolled his eyes, settling back against the headboard. "Some deal."

She raised an eyebrow at him, laying down the hand. "And I'll let you move Caesar into the main room."

Little Caesar was Arnold's Betta fish that he had won at a summer fair a couple of months ago. It had been just after they had moved into this place and Helga had refused to let him stay in the main room. She didn't know why, but the thing gave her the creeps. Probably because it just sat there and stared. It was always watching her.

Although she did have to admit that when Arnold got him a bigger tank, and the poor thing was actually able to move around in its new 1.5 gallon home, he was more cute than creepy.

And because of that, she had been thinking it would be better for him to be out there in the main room anyway. At least things happened out there and he wouldn't be cooped up in Arnold's smelly room.

He frowned at her, still holding the blanket tightly around him. "Really?"

"Yep. But you can't fight me when you have to eat. And no more biting, you freak. I don't want to turn into a zombie like you."

Arnold sniffed again and looked over at his little fish. He loved the little guy and wanted him out in the main room with people. It was lonely in here.

It was the reason why Arnold had picked him up a bigger tank. The tiny bowl that the pet store told him to get was stupid-small. Poor Caesar could barely turn around and his fins were always flat against his red and green body. How could anyone say that Bettas were happy in such a small prison? After the upgrade, Little Caesar seemed to shine and grow a personality. Including spitting rocks from the bottom at the side of the tank until Arnold fed him. Not that he didn't eat twice a day or anything.

Arnold sighed and sat up a bit, admitting defeat. "Fine. But if I throw up because it's disgusting, you're cleaning it up."

She grinned and rested the bowl on his lap. "Deal. But it's not disgusting. If you get sick, it's not because of my cooking."

Arnold brought a spoon to his nose and sniffed it, gaged, and shot her a glare, before bringing it to his mouth. Helga just rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. Grabbing the book, she moved to his other side and sat on his queen-sized bed.

He grumbled gibberish at her and she laughed, watching him for a moment. "Yes, it is good. Yes, it will make you feel better, and yes I am serious about your damn fish."

"Caesar," he corrected, the spoon in his mouth.

"Whatever." Clearing her throat, she leaned back against the headboard. If she wasn't so confident that she wouldn't catch what he had, she would have avoided coming in here. But it had been over two years since she last had the sniffles, let alone been sick.

"The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette. Annette worked in Paris-"

"That's not how it starts," Arnold interrupted, staring at her with sick, glassy eyes.

Helga blinked at him, surprised that he had known that. "You've read this before?"

He nodded and looked down at his soup, mumbling, "I stole it from your room junior year. You were always reading it and I was curious."

She continued to stare at him, stunned into momentary silence. "How do you know that?"

He swallowed another spoonful. "Because it was never in the same place on your bookshelf."

Her eyes widened slightly at his observant allegation. It was true. She had read it multiple times a year, every year in high school. Overall school had been fine, but like with every teenager struggling through the transition of puberty into adulthood, there were many times she had felt depressed and fell into a deep funk. The Princess Bride had gotten her through quite a few tough times.

She smiled warmly at him before flipping back to the true beginning of the book. Just when she thought that she knew all there was to know about Arnold Shortman, he plopped something like that in front of her. Arnold had always been a bit dense, but every once in a while he pulled the wool from her eyes and reveal just how untrue that could be. The guy would no doubt always surprise her.

"This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it…"