Helga's POV
"Guess what I saw while Joel was driving."
I glance up from my Word document. "What?"
"I saw Arnie on one knee at the Green Tea, and Lila... had that huge smile on full display. But her teeth weren't the only thing blinding everyone. I saw a ring, and from my position, it looked like a Diamond Solitaire." She clunges her mug and takes a few sips of her matcha. "I don't how he could afford that. But. From what Arnie has put her through with his... disappearing acts, she deserves that fabulous ring."
"Well, if that's true. It sounds like he's trying to fix a toxic cycle with sudden commitment."
She cocks one brow. "What do you mean if it's true? I saw it with my own smoky brown eyes."
"I don't know princess. Those same eyes thought they saw Arnold and Lila making out in the quad. You came banging on my dorm room door like Michael Myers was after you. Turns out it was Lila and Arnie sharing their first kiss."
Rhonda sticks her nose in the air and peeks at me like she doesn't want to admit being wrong. "Rookie mistake, Arnie and Arnold are cousins, same weird cornfield-looking hair, odd head, and-"
"Watch it, Princess,"
She smirks at me and goes on to 'spill more tea' while I keep completing chapters of my manuscript.
"Rhonda ..." I start when she finally gives me enough room to interject. "you should work at TMZ with how much you love being in everyone's business."
"Oh please, work for TMZ? I would run my own better version of it." I hear Rhonda's heels clinking as she comes closer and kneels in front of me. "So, looks like my Hellgirl has been nearly domesticated."
My eyebrows twitch and connect when I get her drift. "Wrong, nothing's changed... much."
Rhonda wags her finger in my face. "Then why are we in Arnold's living room instead of your cozy quarters."
"Because the roaches haven't moved in here."
Rhonda eyes me, looking knowing and smug. "Uhhuh, right, that's the reason." She struts over to pick up her purse when her phone buzzes. "Joel's here got to jet." She opens the door and pauses. "It's only a matter of time before I'm planning your bridal shower, Ms. Pataki. I'm thinking pink bow centerpieces." Rhonda throws me a wink before closing the door, not giving me a chance to retort.
"...Hold on," I stopped mid-sentence. "Football head, where are you going?" I cross my arms at him when he misses the turn to get to the pet store.
"I found a new... pet store."
I smirk at him as he peeks out of the corner of his eyes, not taking his eyes off the traffic ahead. "You've always been a terrible liar."
That half smile and lidded gaze take over his face. That expression I both love and hate. "Don't you like surprises?"
He asks with a hint of mocking in his voice because he knows I don't.
"No! Now tell me where we're going before I drive us off a cliff."
Arnold just laughs with such nonchalance, like he knows I would never do such a thing. Like he knows, in general, that many of my threats don't hold much weight. "That's a bit extreme." He shakes his head. "We're almost there. Just relax."
His tone was gentle enough to make me do just that. For now, at least.
I follow Arnold across the parking lot, looking at the row of shining new cars.
When I finally see the sign above, I stop in my tracks. "Wait a second, did you buy me a car? Because that's way too much at this stage-"
"Not exactly," He shifts his weight to his right side. "Not at all, but Sid and I did negotiate a great deal. The top salesman is one of Sid's former coworkers. Apparently, the guys a sleazeball-"
"Almost everyone Sid knows is."
"But, apparently, Sid has dirt on him, and that's how he has a better car than all of us."
I smirk, unfolding my eyes. "I always wondered how he could afford that luxury ride, but also Sid is smart enough to take my advice."
Arnold tilts his head slightly in a questioning way. "Live below your means, the one thing Bob told me that wasn't a complete lie."
Arnold studies me, his eyes somewhat unreadable and his features twitching like he's having some inner conflict. But then his fingers wrap around my wrists. "Let's go inside and get you the best deal."
Arnold, with a slight grin, turns on his heels to continue towards the door.
At that very moment, my phone pings.
Sid: Aye, let me know if you gain any... interesting additions today.
Helga : Quit talking in code , I really know what you and football head are cooking up.
Sid: Well, in that case... call me if they start acting funny about the pricing.
Helga: Cool.
I tuck my phone into my back pocket and find myself primping like I'm Rhonda as I follow Arnold inside.
About 30 minutes later my fingers glide on the smooth black wheel as I take a sharp turn, pulling beside a familiar car.
Arnold runs down his window and grins. "Good choice. Silver looks good on you."
The corners of my mouth curl up without my permission. "Alright, football head," I rev up the engine. "Let's see if you can keep up."
Despite my own resistance, I find myself spending more time at Arnold's. Right now, my feet up, Chromebook in my lap, with my fingers moving 80 MPM.
Arnold walks in, his eyes faintly red but smiling.
"Hey," He greets, with a hoarseness to his voice.
"Hey, back at ya'" He turns around, covering his mouth, letting out a few sneezes. "Did one of your hairy friends get you sick?"
His eyebrows turn up as he takes the latch off Scout, letting him run towards his water bowl. "No, it's just seasonal allergies."
I smirk at him, unconvinced but I push the subject because Arnold has my favorite takeout in his hand.
A few days later, I'm knocking on the door, pulling Scout closer to me. He sits down next to me until Arnold opens the door, looking a bit shabby and squinting from the bright sunlight.
"So, how much did you corrupt my dog?"
"None, he corrupted me."
He's just getting over what turned out to be a cold, so I've been taking on the dog-walking task.
"I thought you were napping."
He half grins. "Yeah, but I had to let you in."
"Oh, right… sorry."
We go inside and settle in, and out of nowhere turns to me, dangling keys in his hand with a wide smile.
"Football head, I think you're delirious from all that cold medicine."
Arnold shakes his head. "My head is clear. This is the solution to you having to wait at the door."
A key? To Arnold's? My eyes lift to his, he shrugs when I keep staring in surprise.
"You're over here all the time, so I thought it was time…" he chuckles, kind of awkwardly still sounding a bit hoarse.
My fingers grip the keychain and then clamp it to my pocket.
"You just might regret this…"
"Wait, I already do." He tries to yank the keychain back, but I block him.
" Jerk ," I go to muff him, but his reflexes are too fast, and he grabs my wrist, pulling me in.
Wow, he didn't manhandle me, per se, but if I were a guy, I wouldn't want to mess with Arnold.
Not that I mind a little roughness …. It's quite attractive on such a nice guy.
Arnold wastes no time. His tongue caresses mine with more urgency and passion than lately. I would ask what's gotten into him, but I'm just content that he's doing this.
My hands stroll down his broad shoulders to his taut abs. His skin is so silky and hot. His hands are gripping my hips and backside as his lips move to caress my throat, then my collarbone.
"Arnold..." I whimper and hate myself for it.
"Getting soft on me, Pataki?" he murmurs against my neck, but his breathing is just as ragged as mine. His hands are everywhere, leaving trails of heat across my skin.
"You wish." But my attempt at snark dissolves into a gasp when his teeth graze that spot below my ear. "Playing dirty now, are we?"
"Learned from the best." His voice carries that rare cockiness that always catches me off guard, makes my stomach flip. The late afternoon sun streaming through his skylight catches his eyes, turning them that impossible shade of green that used to inspire pages of terrible poetry.
I reach up to run my fingers through his hair, still slightly damp from his shower. "Still using that ridiculous herbal shampoo?" I tease, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and something distinctly Arnold.
"You love it." He grins against my collarbone. The brush of his stubble sends shivers down my spine – apparently, someone skipped shaving while they were sick.
"Careful there, bucko. Your ego's showing." But I pull him closer, loving how solid he feels against me, how his muscles shift under my hands. For someone so gentle, he's surprisingly strong. The thought makes me smirk.
"Been working out more lately?"
He lifts his head to look at me, that soft gaze making my breath catch. "Maybe… I've had good motivation lately." His thumb traces my bottom lip, and the tenderness of it nearly undoes me. "You're blushing."
"Am not." But my cheeks burn hotter. "It's just... warm in here."
"Uh-huh." He's using that tone – the one that says he sees right through me but loves what he finds anyway. His hands slide down my sides, memorizing every curve like we have all the time in the world. "Whatever you say, Helga."
The way he says my name – soft but certain, like it's something precious – makes my heart stutter. I grab his face, pulling him down for a kiss that's more teeth than finesse. "Less talking, more action, Football Head."
He laughs against my mouth, the sound vibrating through both of us. "So demanding."
"You love it." I throw his words back at him, but they come out breathier than intended.
"Yeah," he says simply, seriously. "I do."
And there it is again – that look that makes me feel seen, really seen. Like he's not just looking at who I am now but every version of me I've ever been. The scared kid throwing spitballs, the angry teenager writing poetry in secret, the woman who ran away to Paris... and somehow, impossibly, he admires them all.
The thought terrifies and thrills me in equal measure. So I do what I do best – deflect with humor. "Getting sentimental on me, Shortman?"
"Always." But his hands are anything but sentimental as they work their way under my shirt. "Problem with that?"
I arch into his touch, trying to maintain some semblance of our usual banter even as my thoughts scatter. "Depends on what else you've got planned."
His answering grin is downright wicked. "Guess you'll have to stick around to find out."
Later, when we're tangled in his sheets, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow, I realize something. This – the key, the confession, all of it – should send me dashing. But for the first time in my life, I want to stay exactly where I am.
I feel him press a kiss on my hair. "You're thinking too loud again."
"Just wondering how long it'll take Scout to forgive us for ignoring him."
On cue, we hear a whine from outside the door.
"He'll live." Arnold's voice rumbles under my ear. "Though we should probably feed him soon."
"Probably." But neither of us moves. The late afternoon sun paints patterns on his walls, and I can hear the city life continuing below – car horns, kids playing, the familiar rhythm of Hillwood. It feels like home in a way Philadelphia never did.
"Hey, Arnold?" I say after moments of content silence.
"Mmm?" He sounds like, he was nearing sleep.
"Thanks for the key."
His arms tighten around me. "Thanks for accepting it."
And somehow, that simple exchange says everything we need to say.