The heat of the moment
I do not own Hey Arnold, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The heat of the moment
The air conditioning unit in Arnold’s bedroom was doing nothing but rattling and spitting out lukewarm air. The fan was useless, and churned an annoying humming noise. A heatwave in early May in the city had turned the old boarding house into a brick oven. Arnold couldn't remember a time when it ever felt so quiet at home - at The Sunset Arms at least. The daily racket of his now late-eighties grandparents, his parents, Mr Hyunh and Ernie Potts - the sole two remaining tenants unofficially considered part of the Shortman family at this point, and even Abner their now-very aged pet pig had been gone for a whole day now. They had all left for a week-long trip to Arnold's cousin Arnie's farm without him, so that he could have some quiet time to study for his final exams for his AP courses coming up in the next few weeks. But for Arnold, the silence only seemed to amplify the heat. It felt impossible to focus on a single thing, let alone the pile of textbooks in front of him. Even worse for his productivity that day, she was there.
Helga yelled outside, frantically banging on the heavy, oak door to the Sunset Arms for Arnold to ‘get his butt down and let her in’, kicked her sandals off flying in the hallway, then swiftly stormed her way into his room, slamming her own textbooks and flashcards down on his bed, and deciding for the both of them, she'd be his impromptu study partner for the day, - and the rest of the week by extension, after he finally made the decision to tell her he was the only person in the house alone for once, for a whole week.
This was very rare for The Sunset Arms, the colorful, zany, always switched-on, run-down dump it was. Well, the switch was finally off, and as much as Helga had extreme fondness for Arnold's extended family - she had also been on her knees practically begging and praying in her private time, wanting them to buzz off just once. There was no way she was passing up on this much free Helga and Arnold alone time. Hands down. Full stop.
Helga lay on her stomach across his bed, chewing the end of a pencil, kicking her bare legs between her pink gym shorts in the air behind her. She scowled at a calculus textbook, full with questions far more advanced than the level of math taught in Arnold's high school. Helga went to the prestigious well-funded but ultimately soulless Hillwood Gifted Students Academy on the other side of the river. Arnold went to Hillwood High three blocks away, a dump in comparison but ever lively, filled with their old childhood classmates Helga could never admit she missed. When she first set foot in that cold building, Helga had never felt more empty and alone. Sure, compared to Hillwood High - it was well-funded, the rooms were actually clean, free of dust and mold, and the work was actually challenging. But then there were the students - oh boy, the students. Her classmates were just the most dreary, dull-as-dirt, dead-eyed soulless ghosts floating the hallways with what you could barely call “aspirations” for the most boring lifeless corporate, albeit high-paid, careers. Her one beacon of sanity in those white sterile walls over the past three and a half years was that she was joined by her lifelong best friend, Phoebe - both girls considered outcasts somewhat, being the only two in their grade who received their tuition through a 'gifted and talented’ scholarship, whatever that meant, rather than paid for by Daddy's trust fund.
Of course, one thing had changed for the better in Helga's life since she took those first steps in that soul-sucking academy all the way back in ninth grade. Arnold was back. Even for Helga, a candidate for Forbes' ‘most cynical under twenties' list, couldn't take for granted how much happier she had felt since Arnold returned last year at the start of eleventh grade. He had left for a crushing two years and moved with the rest of the Shortman family to sunny San Lorenzo, and finally came back to finish his education back in the states a year and a half ago just in time for eleventh grade. Here they were now, at the tail end of twelfth grade, some AP exams away from college. But still, him being three blocks away, she missed throwing spitballs at him in class, sneaking notes and poems when the teachers weren't looking, taking joy in confusing the hell out of all their other classmates continually guess if she and Arnold were still actually dating or not with all her constant teasing and name-calling ('Football Head, Hair Boy, Yutz, Paste-for-Brains'), wondering how such a dysfunctional couple could stay together for so long, let alone for the 3 years they spent together before his parents waltzed him to the wilderness without even a single bar of reception. Those middle school years were in the past now, like a dream fading further and further away into distant memory. But still, he was here now, and was hers. For good.
Arnold himself recalled how homesick he felt for those two long years stuck in a remote region of San Lorenzo, helping his parents set up a small humanitarian aid and health practice for a local agrarian community nearby. Those years were painful and isolating, he remembered trying his best to look on the bright side, but it was challenging even for him - Mr Sunshine Optimism, as Helga put it, one of her many sarcastic nicknames for him. Back then, he barely knew the language, making a true connection with anyone difficult. They were a tight-knit community, and admittedly it was a breath of fresh air to be around people who actually got on and kept a positive outlook for once despite their hardships in such a poor, rural area. It was nothing like his childhood in Hillwood, compared to the more often than not, miserable and totally dysfunctional cityfolk he grew up with. It was breathtakingly beautiful and tranquil, and yet, it just wasn't home. Every time he found himself wanting a piece of home, there was barely any infrastructure that allowed him to communicate with his old friends across the border. He had to travel almost half an hour from his family's cabin in the sticks to the nearest utility pole, just so his phone had one bar of signal for the rare call with his childhood best friend, Gerald, the only person he managed to successfully stay in contact with back in Hillwood. Sure, it was nice being able to write on his college application forms about his experience helping the San Lorenzo locals, but that was never home to him. Home was chaotic, buzzing, and truthfully, just didn't feel complete without her.
“How's the calculus going, Helga?” Arnold sighed, asking in an attempt to break his distracting reminiscing thoughts. From the corner of his eye, still trying to focus on his textbook, she at least appeared like she was concentrating while gnawing at her pencil, he thought.
“It’s going shit, Arnold”, She stated plainly, glaring her eyes at him before rolling on her back, slamming her textbook shut in frustration. She excelled in literature and creative subjects, but admittedly advanced math was a weak point for her. There was no deeper human meaning behind solving cold, sterile equations.
'I guess not', Arnold thought to himself, seeing that she was also completely unable to focus.
For a year and a half now, he'd been back in Hillwood and rekindled his relationship with Helga - 'in record time' as his best friend Gerald put it. He chuckled softly to himself thinking about how in less than 24-hours after crossing the U.S. border for good, there they were on the dusty carpet of his then-still vacant empty room having their first ever intense teenage make-out session in private, despite there being an entire homecoming party on the roof for Arnold, missing all of his neighbours and old friends who had come to celebrate his return home. They were literally dancing and cheering for the boy in question on the roof right above Arnold's attic room, where he and Helga had completely ignored them in pure hormonally-charged, teenage bliss. In hindsight, it was only a matter of time until they'd be caught by none other than Gerald, wondering when the two would finally re-join the party, distinctively asking if they needed ‘extra time?’ seeing them in such a pathetic state. He could still hear Gerald's “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm,” echoing in the room catching them in the act, a year and a half ago.
“What's so funny, Football Head?” Helga glared darts at him from across the room, the heat and hum of the broken AC unit and the useless fan making his nostalgic laughter sound just that bit more insufferably, yet adorably annoying to her. Not like she was getting anything done anyway.
“Nothing much, just a funny memory…” He brushed it off, not even glancing at her from his desk, trying to avoid distracting her studies even more.
In truth, he was finding it harder and harder to look at her whenever she was in his room. He recalled “the other side” of that funny memory of the pair getting caught ‘in record time' by Gerald. That was the first time he ever experienced his parents being truly upset with him for recklessly acting inappropriately with a girl in the house - the hickeys Helga gave him were still bright red on his neck, and both of their hair had been unfixably disheveled as they finally made it back to the party, in plain sight of everyone.
As a result, hours were spent talking with his parents about keeping boundaries in the house, now that he had become a late teenager, with a girlfriend. ‘It's good Gerald caught you when he did', his parents repeated, noting they still felt terribly guilty about missing most of Arnold's childhood and the last thing they'd want is 'a new baby in the boarding house' raised by an inequipped teenager. A deeply shameful, embarrassing moment for him - but the most hilarious thing his grandparents and the other boarders eavesdropped on since the cancellation of their favourite TV show. From his parents came disapproving looks, but from his grandpa and a certain Mr. Potts, came congratulatory winks and slaps on the back. But still, his parents had absolute authority, which meant Arnold now had to keep his attic door open whenever Helga came over, and they installed a new lock for the latch of the skylight opening directly above Arnold's room on the roof, knowing how easily Helga could sneak in - something she heavily detested and would fail to try appealing in vain. Believe me, even Arnold was shocked by the sheer amount of lock picking tools Helga tried using, but she was up against ‘Mr. and Mrs. Indiana Jones' themselves, as she put it, with years of experience collaborating with the local police force and having to outwit criminals, such as drug lords and traffickers, protecting local communities as part of their humanitarian work. Helga was out of her depth here.
Admittedly, both Arnold and his parents knew, that was now a year and a half ago, when they were still sixteen and their rekindled relationship was still brand new with a hot-to-the-touch burning desire to make up for their shared lost two years of intimacy. School also wasn't as serious back then compared to now, with final AP exams coming up that would determine which college the now-technically-young-adults would be attending in only a few months, which Arnold would have to focus on more than anything else. Fortunately for himself and Helga who had vowed not to separate again, Hillwood was a big city attractive to college-age students, and there were a range of actually decent colleges nearby both of them could attend with budgets the local council would find laughable allocating to the run-down lower education schools, their old PS. 118 being a ‘not-so-shining’ example. Arnold kept this idea of going to the same college with Helga, maybe even living in the same dorm as her in his head at all times, and used it as motivation to study harder. “Then’, he thought, ‘that’s when I can finally make a move', stuffing that deep, hormonally-driven desire for intimacy to the back of his heart. Unfortunately for him, it was getting harder and harder to stuff down, especially now he was technically an ‘adult’, but still under his parents' roof.
Realising what his thoughts were drifting to and the heat rising in his shorts, he could feel his face grow red and audibly gulped. Helga immediately noticed the red glow rise from his neck into his ears from behind, and smirked.
“What’s got you so red, Football Head? Thinking of something dirty?” Helga taunted him across the room, changing her posture to tease him, hoping he'd notice and go more red. She now sat with her legs neatly on top of another, slightly bent at the knee, fully in view and elongated against her pink purposefully higher-cut-than-usual gym shorts, propping her head on her left arm and placing her right arm on her thigh, accentuating her now-fully-developed curves, snickering.
“S-stop it, Helga!”
Again, Arnold could not look back at her, knowing she was teasing him, especially with what he was just thinking about. Besides, they were meant to be studying for finals. Even if she was just joking, he wasn't even going to let the idea tempt him. He could not look at her. At all. Not even once glance.
“Bold of your parents to leave you alone at home, huh, Football Head?” She teased again, not ready to claim defeat.
“I’m not falling for it, Helga.” Arnold rolled his eyes and tried his best to ignore her, knowing exactly where she was going with that question.
She was right though. The past half a year, both eighteen-year-olds had picked up on how his parents had been giving Arnold more privacy and independence in preparation for college, even with Helga around. Sure, the skylight latch was still firmly locked when they weren't at home or asleep, but they were increasingly happier to allow Helga to study with him alone upstairs without supervision, with the door closed, including while they were on their current trip. He proved his trustworthiness over the past year and a half, and kept his promise to his parents of ‘no monkey business' with Helga while they were still living under the same roof. Not that they didn't manage to sneak in a passionate kiss, or the rarer makeout session when the pair were outside of the boarding house. Remembering his parents' words though about the last thing they'd want is 'a new baby in the boarding house’ he always stopped before it went too far, much to Helga's annoyance.
Helga was the opposite of the Golden Boy sat across the room from her. They'd been back together for a god-forsaken year and a half now. They were eighteen years old. Adults. Teenagers only in numbers, and definitely not kids anymore. ADULTS, in capital letters. Well okay, they still couldn't drink, gamble, or adopt a child for another three years, but whatever - legally, they were adults, which was good enough for her. Adults, with adult needs, she thought. Arnold was happy to push down his innermost wishes and desires for just about anything, to make people happy - in this case, his parents. Helga wasn't. Her ability to put others before herself was limited. She couldn't stand watching his parents walk all over him to be honest, knowing what half their old classmates had already gotten up to during some of the more degenerate conversations at their reunions lately. Hell, what Gerald and Phoebe had already gotten up to, knowing the type of stuff they hid from their parents, pretending to still be innocent. But, even Gerald and Phoebe weren't Arnold. She just had to be in love with him, didn't she. Number one goodie-two-shoes.
To be honest, she waited far long enough for him already. She waited two years for him in San Lorenzo to come home. And now, she had waited over a year for him to make the next move. She didn't care if that was technically skipping multiple ‘bases’ beyond making out and the occasional hickey. She would sigh every time they kissed and he moved her hand away from his pants, the hand that always ‘just kept crawling there with a will of its own’ - or at least, that was her excuse. Of course, she would absolutely never force him to do anything more intimate if he didn't want to, she could never do that to him. And she never put her hand back there when he moved it away, it was just to test the waters, whenever the mood felt right. If he wasn't ready, she understood, as much as it killed her. She thought of the other times they had been in this position, once in the back of the dump he called his first truck he got as a present for his seventeenth birthday. She thought of the memory…
'Criminey, you're not gay, are you, Hair Boy?’ 'Of course not, Helga! I just… I mean… I want to… you know… with you, trust me, but… Then I think of what my parents would say if they found out, and… maybe we should wait. I mean, in my truck? Wouldn't you want the first time to be more special?’ To be honest, even if it was behind a dumpster, she didn't care, she just wanted him. What difference would the first time make, when he'd be the only one she'd ever want anyway? They'd have plenty of time to make the second or the third time more romantic. Based on what some of their old school friends said about their own first times at those reunions, she'd take ‘behind the dumpster’ with him in a heartbeat, frankly. It wasn't the place that made it romantic, it was him being the one she'd share it with. It was frustrating. She was getting more desperate than ever, especially with his parents finally pushing back on the supervision, fully bursting with those hormones built up over years as a teenager going through puberty to now, a young adult. It was getting harder and harder to not just leap on him every study session with the door finally shut, including today. Especially today as they were completely alone. And there she was, looking at him from behind again, always finding herself biting her lip, longing. The boy he was - the dorky twerpy little shrimp, too short for his oversized shirts, didn't exist anymore. He'd grown up. With his back turned, she couldn't help but admire the glorious work puberty and his annoying parents’ genetics had done. His voice was now deep, and had a velvety smoothness to it, much like his father's, Miles. His shoulders were broad, his upper back was clearly sculpted with defined muscles sloping and tightening into a toned waist, where even only looking at his back, she could tell how defined his core was, hiding the humble ab definition built over the years. Oh, how much she just wanted to bathe in the colour of his ever-present slightly tanned skin. She hated him being away, but man, those two years living a non-sedentary life doing labour in San Lorenzo worked wonders for her eyes. Even right now, the heat was insufferable, but the silver lining was how much his thin, white shirt clung to his toned upper half, dripping with sweat. She bit her lip even harder. Her eyes darted even lower. His now long, built, legs were tucked in a pair of blue gym shorts honestly probably a size too small. How she wanted to caress those golden thighs leading from his knees to his firm tight-… Arnold would probably kill her for thinking that. But still, on a day like this? Maybe she should start praying to the Sun God for weather like this more often. She couldn't help but look. She wanted him. Badly. Today more than ever. She didn't just want to be boyfriend and girlfriend, she wanted to be lovers and was growing tired of waiting. ‘Screw the other bases, I want to skip straight to home run!’ she kept thinking to herself. Helga realised she had let her thoughts run wild for too long and covered her face with a textbook, muffling her voice. “I’m not retaining anything,” She muttered. “My brain is melting out my ears. This is how I die, Arnold. On your terrible mattress, surrounded by dorky math textbooks.” Arnold laughed. “You’re the one who showed up yelling at the door, wanting to study here.” “Yeah well, Football Head. Because you know I can't concentrate at home with Olga screaming about finally getting a decent paying acting job.” “At least the air conditioning works there.” She lifted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Shut up. You’re lucky I even tolerate your-” She stopped. Gulp. Her gaze had drifted down, unbidden, to where his shirt had ridden up as he leaned back, revealing a strip of those humble abs delicately etched on his stomach, tan and taut. She looked away quickly, her cheeks flushing in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature. She bit her lip again. Another gulp. From the other direction. 'Oh crap, I looked!’ Arnold was defeated. He officially turned his head to look at her, realising he fell for Helga's current attempt at starting a conversation in a small moment of vulnerability. The game was up. He took a good look for the first time that day… There she was with flushed cheeks, her lips pink from uncontrollably biting them while staring at him from behind. Underneath, she was wearing a worn-down white spaghetti strap cami top, adorned with a lace trim at the top, which was a hand-me-down from Olga, seeing as she normally wore tomboyish baggy clothes to hide her figure when it wasn't so hot. The fabric was thin and clung to her curves in the humidity. The right strap fell slightly past her shoulder, revealing the top curve of her right breast, delicately painted with a light mole contrasting her pale skin. His eyes trailed down. He traced down from her thighs to her bare feet. Her legs still sat gracefully on top of another, knees slightly bent, showing off her smooth, developed sporty thighs looking ever so slightly plump sticking out of those way-too-short, high cut pink gym shorts, only reaching down to about a quarter of her thigh, not leaving much to the imagination. He felt heat rising in his shorts again. Her legs were long, shapely from all the activity and sports she did, and pale pink in colour, her being unable to catch a tan. Just to top it all off, those normally perfectly upright blonde pigtails were messier than normal, having come undone slightly due to the humidity, hair sticking to her neck. 'She's not wearing a bra…’ Arnold gulped again. Helga noticed where his eyes drifted to, and took her chance to play it up even more. She gently moved her arms and chest forward, making her cleavage ever so slightly more prominent. She kept staring at him, biting her lip, longing, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Arnold gulped again. He could see her whole outline, the shape of her, as she shifted her body only incrementally forward. It was making him feel like a terrible person. He kept looking. He couldn’t stop looking. She looked so pretty there… She looked so… Pink and ripe, still biting her now cherry coloured lips. He almost wanted to take a bite out of her. If not for the gym shorts, despite their shade of pink, you could hardly tell how tomboyish and brash her normal demeanour was. Not that he didn't love that side of her as well, but the way she delicately sat there with such a longing gaze, just resonated to that part of him he forced deep down which was raw, primal, and full of masculine urge. He wanted to steal her all for himself. He wanted to devour her. She was his forbidden fruit. Arnold had known Helga since they were both three. She had been pulling his hair - metaphorically and sometimes literally, since the day they met. She was sharp, dramatic, fiercely intelligent, and hid her tenderness and femininity under so many layers of sarcasm that most people never made it past the barbed wire. But Arnold had always seen the softness underneath. He had seen it in the way she’d try to help him in secret or pretend it was for her own sake. Even when they were only nine years old, half their shared lifetime ago, he remembered the way she would do things like get her blowhard dad to help fund their school float he designed, the time she sabotaged herself to let him win the fourth grade spelling bee championship, or stopped her blowhard dad again from bulldozing their childhood friends’ treehouse hangout. Then of course, there was the tipping point, the event that ended up shaping the course of his love-life to being exclusively pinholed to Helga G. Pataki alone… at only nine years old, he cornered her into declaring her love for him when secretly helping him prevent his neighbourhood undercover (including the very house they were currently in) from being destroyed and turned into a mall. Her family would have gotten rich from the whole ordeal - their family business was meant to open its biggest, busiest branch in the mall, and yet… she sabotaged it for him. He wasn't ever supposed to know, he stole that forbidden information from her on the roof of the FTi building, nine years ago. In the nine years since, she'd only done even more incredible things for him which made saving the neighbourhood pale in comparison, quite frankly - I mean she woke up his parents for crying out loud from their years-long coma. But that was the first time he saw her, for who she really was. The tough girl persona had been shattered. For good. At the time, he didn't even know how to process her feelings which overwhelmed him, but he was the one that cornered her on the roof. Maybe it was selfish of him back then, but had he not cornered her there and then nine years ago, would she still be there, right now, in front of him? Would he have ever looked her way? He'd never known anyone so unconditionally, fiercely loyal, not seeking even an ounce of credit for her good deeds - she only ever wanted him to be happy. He would never expect to meet anyone else like her, they didn't exist. From that moment on, his heart was shaped to the tune of Helga G. Pataki alone. She expected nothing in return. Even while he left the country for two years, she kept loving him even if he would never come back. He thought of the idea of moving on, but in his heart, he knew he'd never stop looking at her. Her alone. It was impossible. All the way through, she kept looking at him, even when she thought he wasn’t looking back. Well, there he was - looking at her, now. Exclusively at her. He had tried not to all day she'd been there. Every time he turned a page of the textbook on the side next to him, there she was in his peripheral sight. Now he was actively looking at her. The damage was bad. Helga immediately noticed the tent forming in his shorts. She rolled onto her back, stretching her arms above her head. The cami top rode up, exposing a sliver of stomach. He felt crimson rise in his neck through his cheeks. Arnold’s pencil snapped in his hand. “Did you just break your pencil?” she asked, amazed what a simple stretch could do to a man. “It’s fine, it’s not like pencils are expensive.” “You’re acting different, Arnold.” She revelled in how flustered he was behaving. You have no idea, he thought. She sat up, crossing her legs and facing him. Those pink shorts had ridden up even higher on her thighs. There was a sheen of sweat on her collarbones. Sensing a change in the mood, she put all her cards on the table. “Arnold. Look at me.” “What?” Pretending to be puzzled by what she said, his mind and body battled to restrain the heat rising throughout his body further, but it was already too late. “You spent the last hour totally with your back to me, stiff in that chair, avoiding even accidentally sneaking in one stinking glance over your shoulder. You accidentally glanced over at me for what, like, 10 freaking seconds and snapped your pencil because you can't handle looking at a sweaty girl in a cami top and pink gym shorts. Exactly what thoughts are going on in that overly wide head of yours, right now?” “The pencil was just an accident… It’s… hot. I’m distracted.” One look at his forbidden fruit, and there was no looking away for him now. “By what?” He should have lied. He should have blamed the heat, the noise from the street, the impending exams. But the house was empty. The house was never empty. The door was closed. The door was never closed. They were fully, unmistakably, alone. The moment was perfect enough. It was just them and the cicadas and the oppressive, shimmering heat that seemed to slow everything down, strip away pretense, leave only raw, honest want. In all honesty, his parents' words had no more control over him at this moment. They may have missed most of his childhood, but he could no longer delay his adulthood. The Golden Boy was reaching his limit. “By you,” he said quietly. “I’m distracted by you.” The room went still. Helga’s breath hitched. For a moment, the mask slipped - her eyes went wide and vulnerable, the tough girl vanishing, leaving only the girl who had loved him in secret since she was three years old and he’d given her his umbrella in a thunderstorm. “Arnold…” she whispered. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, standing up, scuffing his own hair in frustration. “That was inappropriate. We’re supposed to be studying. I shouldn’t have-” “Arnold.” “-said anything. I’ll get you a yahoo soda. We can-” “Arnold, look at me.” He turned. She was standing now, close enough that he could smell her - that strawberry shampoo which theoretically made no sense as she was allergic the real thing, but still matched her perfectly, her lightly perfumed sunscreen, mixed with sweat and something uniquely, intoxicatingly her. She was trembling slightly, but her chin was lifted in that defiant way she had, the way that dared the world to hurt her before she could hurt it. “Are you done avoiding me?,” she asked, her voice barely audible. Arnold took a deep breath. He was trying desperately to hold back. She looked so edible right there, he could just take a bite out of her right there and then. “I don't think I can hold back anymore, Helga… The heat's gotten to me…,” he said, and it sounded like a confession torn from somewhere deep. “Because you’re here, and the boarding house is completely, utterly empty for what frankly feels like the first time in my life, and you’re wearing that top, and I can’t think about transcendentalism when all I can see in my peripheral sight is the way your breath moves when you’re frustrated chewing your pencil, and… I’ve been good, Helga, I’ve been so good for so long, and I really, really don't want to disappoint my parents while we're still under the same roof, but…but… they're not here… it's just us… and I’m at my limit.” Her hand came up, trembling, and touched his chest. His heart was hammering against her palm. “Then don’t be,” He could feel the breath of Helga's every word on his face. His forbidden fruit was calling out to be consumed by the most primal parts of him, the parts he tried to bury deep for so long. “Be something else,” He let himself melt into her words. In reality, deep down, this was the only inevitable outcome he knew, and hoped, would happen as soon as he told her his whole family had left for the week. He tried telling himself otherwise, that they'd actually study, but deep down he knew it was a cruel joke he was playing to both himself and the girl in front of him, that he could hold out any longer, especially after seeing the weather forecast, knowing she'd come in those gym shorts. If Helga was his forbidden fruit, Arnold was the devil that snuck her into the small world forming secretly between only those two in that room, in the heat of the boarding house, right then and there. She was the one open about wanting him, but he was the one who cornered her there as soon as he let the cat out of the bag about the empty house, and he knew it. In denial. It wasn't the heat of the moment, it never was, not nine years ago on the FTi roof, or now feeling her breath under his face. He wanted this. He wanted her. It started with a kiss. Or rather, it started with her crashing into him, her fingers fisting in his now-fully-soaked-in-sweat shirt, her mouth finding his with a desperation that spoke of years of waiting for this very moment. They took a moment for breath, and he skirted his tongue around her cherry coloured lips which had been taunting him all day, savouring every inch. They pulled into a deeper kiss, exchanging saliva, their tongues melding together in pure bliss. She felt herself melting into the sounds of his moans - surprise, relief, hunger. His hands found her surprisingly delicate waist, pulling her flush against his taut core. She was soft and warm and real, and she kissed like she was starving, like she’d been saving up every unspoken want and was finally cashing them all in at once. She wanted the home run. They stumbled back toward the bed, knocking the textbooks to the floor. He stumbled a free hand to reach for the remote to switch off the overhead lights, so they'd only be lit by the sky which was now reaching dusk above them through the skylight, a beautiful hue of deep pinks and blues following sunset shrouding them in that moment. He lowered her down, following, breaking the kiss only to trail his mouth down to her jaw, then her neck, tasting salt, heat, and that lightly perfumed sunscreen. She arched when he buried his face in her neck, gently biting leaving a visible hickey, marking her as his alone, and continued kissing the area gently, her fingers tangling in his golden disheveled hair. “Your hands,” she gasped. “You can… you can touch me. I want you to.” He had imagined it, in the dark, shameful hours of the night. He had imagined the weight of her, the texture of her skin, the sounds she might make. But imagination was a pale, feeble thing compared to the reality of his palm sliding up her ribcage, pushing the delicate cami top higher, finally - finally, closing over her pale pink breast, brushing his fingers over that light mole he thought looked so suggestive earlier. He cupped her whole right breast with his hand. It felt heavy, but soft to the touch. She whimpered, pressing into his touch, and he felt dizzy with it. He had never let himself have this. He had never let himself want this openly, fully, without the cage of guilt. But the cage was open now. “Helga,” he breathed, reverent and ragged, roughening his grope now with both hands on her cleavage. They entered another deep kiss, their tongues dancing in perfect rhythm. Helga whimpered at the sensation of his kiss and being fondled at the same time as he gently teased and plucked her sensitive nipples, bringing her every want and need to attention. She found her own hands darting around those golden thighs and his rear she dared not to let herself get carried away thinking about earlier. It was indeed very firm and tight. A soft moan escaped her lips. “More,” she demanded, their lips separating for air. Her old bossiness was returning, but her voice was breathless, wrecked. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, Arnold.” He didn’t. He explored her with shaking hands, which became rougher and more heavy handed the more he mapped her body he’d admired from an irritatingly respectful distance for so long. He traced the curve of her hip, the softness of her inner thigh, and finally reached her crotch where he could feel damp heat emanating, which made her cry out as he touched her over the pink cotton of her shorts. She was writhing beneath him, unabashed in her need, and it was undoing something in him - some tightly wound knot of propriety and restraint that had always kept him careful, gentle, nice. He wasn’t feeling like the nice Golden Boy anymore. He was feeling primal, possessive, desperate to be inside her, to claim her, to make her his in the most ancient way possible. “Are you sure?” he managed, his voice rough, foreign to his own ears. “We’ve never… I’ve never…” “I’ve never either,” she admitted, her blue eyes glassy with desire, her cheeks flushed pink. “But I’ve wanted it to be you. Only you. Always you, Arnold. ” Those final words which came out of her cherry lips shattered the last of his restraint. He stripped her of her shorts, then her cami top, her white lace panties, then his own clothes, his little blue hat making sure to face it completely away, leaving just his boxers on, until they were bare and slick with sweat, pale pink skin sliding against tan in the humid air. Below, he was hard and aching against her hip. Her eyes were completely fixated, biting her lip again. She could feel it throbbing on her body, begging to be handled. She sat up to face him, then reached her fingers into his boxers, gently pulled them down, and began to touch his now hopelessly hard, throbbing, manhood for the first time in her life, admiring how his mix of flesh, veins and hard arousal felt pulsating in her hands. It felt so big between her fingers. She bit her lip again as she watched his face, half-lidded gazing at her with red flushed cheeks and his lips slightly agape, releasing groans in pleasure, before he dropped his brow and a golden stack of his dishevelled hair onto her shoulder. He placed his strong hand on her delicate fingers, and began directing her strokes. “Like this?” she asked, curious, eager. “Yes,” he gritted out. “God, yes. It... feels good when you touch that area…” He moved his hand away to stop directing her, and began cupping her breasts, moving into another deep tongue-filled kiss while she kept massaging him, until he was fully erect and ready. His turn. He grabbed her gently by the waist, pulling her long pink legs down the bed, and moved them slightly apart, pausing to admire her in that state, seeing everything. Her eyes darted slightly away from his gaze, embarrassed to be seen in this submissive state, a soft pink glowing across her whole face. Helga looked so vulnerable. He prepared her as best he could, his fingers gentle, even as his body shook with the effort of holding back what was coming next, what he wanted next. He trailed his fingers from her stomach, to her crotch between her legs. He slid two fingers inside, feeling inside of her for the first time. She was tight, wet, and so responsive that every sound she made sent a jolt of electricity through him. He inched his fingers upwards, and began thrusting with them, exploring his way through her warm, lubricated walls, expanding around his fingers. He could smell a faint mix of her natural odor and sweetness the more he curled his fingers inside of her. Below, he could feel his manhood throb with a burning desire, needing her, a detail her eyes were completely locked onto. He pulled out his fingers now covered in her love juices, and finally put his whole comforting weight on her body, between those long pink legs, which she wrapped around his tan body, gripping tightly, her nails digging into his broad shoulders. “Now,” she whispered. “Please. I need you inside me.” He aligned her body to his. She bit her right thumb for a moment, bright pink completely rushing to her cheeks, her eyes completely fixated below. Arnold placed a hand on his fully erect manhood, gently circling her vulva and her clit, flesh to flesh, teasing her. They both were biting their lips for once. They were touching. Arnold pulled out a condom from the cabinet next to his bed, knowing deep down to be prepared this would eventually happen, after trying to bury his desire for so long. “I can… put it on for you.” Helga opened the packet, and recalled how to put one on during Sex Ed. She rolled the piece of rubber over his tip, down his shaft to the base, taking a moment to admire his twitching manhood again in her hand. He could only focus on her biting her lip. God, she looked pretty. He was aching. Hard. He roughly pulled her legs even closer to his body, and she clamped them around his toned upper body even tighter. She watched intently with slightly uptilted, longing eyes, at the site of their to-be joining below as he pressed himself against her, leaning closer towards her. “Helga… I'm going inside now, okay?” He watched the cherry lips of her mouth go slightly agape, and then his eyes moved to her soft, plush body wrapped around him, and then back to her face completely glowing with a pink hue, her eyes still entirely locked to the location of where their bodies were joining. She moved her hands to her vulva below, and spread her opening lips apart with her fingers in a V-shape for him to find the entrance. He truly savoured that view of her. He slowly entered into her, feeling her warmth wrap entirely around him. She could feel her insides relax and then contract again in pleasure as he entered deeper into her, letting out a soft moan, perfectly fitting their bodies together. They were one. Finally. “I'm going to start moving now… Helga.” The first push was awkward. He was nervous, she was tense, and for a moment they fumbled, breathing hard, lacking the right rhythm, laughing a little at the absurdity of two virgins trying to solve a puzzle with their bodies. “So… maybe we would have had an easier time solving those calculus equations after all?” He joked softly, his green eyes gazing into her blue with a half-lidded comforting stare. “You are such a Football Head…” She moved her eyes to the side, shyly remembering her wholly exposed state, a pink glow still covering her face. That might have been the softest she'd ever called him that nickname. Until that point, she had been feeling so utterly, hopelessly vulnerable, a feeling she normally hated, but knew it was the price for handing herself fully, wholly to Arnold. This wasn't the bossy, fiery Helga, this was an entirely submissive, defenseless Helga, her whole body in his arms, with any and all walls she normally put up, crushed to complete dust to a degree and extent Arnold had never witnessed before. And he wanted more of it. He wanted every piece of her to himself, and for himself alone. He shifted his angle, she tilted her hips, and suddenly he was sliding into her pale pink skin, sheathing himself in her warmth and wetness, and nothing had ever felt so perfect, so right, so complete. They both froze, eyes locked. “Okay?” he rasped. “Don’t move for a second,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut, tears pricking at the corners. “Just… just let me feel you. You’re inside me, Arnold. You’re actually…” “I’m here, Helga,” he promised, whispering in her ear, kissing her tears away, interlocking their fingers, twiddling her thumbs. “I’m right here.” When she nodded, he began to move, their hands still interlocked. Slowly at first, then with growing confidence as she urged him on with her hips, her hands, her voice crying out his name. The bed creaked beneath them, the air thick with the sounds of their joining - flesh meeting flesh, breathless gasps, the wet, intimate sounds of their bodies moving together. “Helga…” He lost himself in her. The careful, polite boy he had always been burned away in the heat, leaving only a man who wanted, who took, who gave. More… He pinned her wrists above her head, and thrusted harder into her. She instinctively turned her head in reflex of being in such an embarrassing pose. Her pigtails had entirely dropped down, her light blonde hair falling around her shoulders and back. “ARNOLD!” Her cheeks flushed a bright pink. Not even Helga G. Pataki could stop him now. He was uncontrollable, dominating her and she hated loving that feeling. “Don't worry. You're in good hands” She let out a another louder moan, arching into him further, closing her eyes in the overwhelming pleasure, begging him for more, harder, deeper. He pressed his mouth on hers into a kiss, dancing with her tongue above and her G-spot below at the same time, sending her writhing. He finally unpinned her arms, kneading and squeezing her breasts rough in his hands, his tongue still deep in her throat. Fully enveloped in pleasure, she found herself rubbing her clit with her free hand, completely and utterly lost in pure lust and heat, her moans unable to keep their kiss or their tongues going, gasping for air. Arnold stared at her, biting his lip hard. “Fuck, Helga… You look so fucking hot...” Did those words just escape his mouth? His brain turned to mush, and was running on pure arousal and adrenaline alone, driving into her with a force that shocked them both, his rhythm primal and relentless, and she met him thrust for thrust, her legs locked around him, her body milking him with every stroke. “Helga,” he chanted, his voice breaking. “Helga, I can’t - I’m going to-” “Come with me,” she pleaded, her inner walls fluttering around him. “Arnold, please, come with me-” She shattered first, her back bowing off the mattress now soaked in their sweat and juices, a cry tearing from her throat that was half his name, half a sound of pure, transcendent release. The feel of her climaxing around him, pulsing and clenching, pulled him over the edge. Her eyes locked onto his cheeks flushing red and his lips trembling. He buried his face in her neck he marked with a hickey earlier and finally let go, groaning long and low into her ear as he came inside her, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, wave after wave of it, until he was empty, spent, and trembling. He collapsed beside her, pulling her with him, their legs tangled, their chests heaving in unison. He disposed of the used condom in the bedside trash. The completely degenerate part of Helga considered keeping it as a keepsake for her next shrine. The room smelled of sex and sweat and summer. Outside, a car horn blared. The air conditioner and the fan rattled on, useless and ignored. For a long time, they just breathed together. Then, slowly, the guilt came. Arnold stared at the sky fully fading into night, the stars beginning to twinkle above them, his arm around her shoulders, his heart still racing. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly. “We should have been studying. You have your academy finals. I have-” “Arnold.” “-mine. And I took advantage of the situation. I knew I told you my parents weren't here, and I shouldn't have, and-” “Arnold, look at me.” He did. She was propped up on one elbow, her pigtails long gone and her hair a wild halo, her lips swollen from his kisses. The hickey still bright red on her neck. And she was smiling. Not her sharp, sarcastic smile. A real one. Soft. Radiant. Whole. “I have never,” she said, her voice steady and sure, “felt more like myself than I do right now. I don’t care about the finals. I don’t care about anything. You’re inside my heart, Arnold. You always have been. And now…” She pressed a hand to her chest, then to his. “Now we’re real. We’re lovers. We’re one.” He searched her eyes, looking for regret, finding none. Only a twinkle of deep, abiding satisfaction. The guilt in his chest wavered, then cracked, letting in something warm and light. “Helga,” he paused, “I love you”. The words fell out, natural and inevitable as gravity. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, I never stopped, even when I was away. I didn't want to ruin it. I'm sorry for making you wait so long...”
She laughed, bright and free, and kissed him softly. “You didn’t ruin anything. You finally made us whole. I already waited two years for you before, Arnold, I could have waited longer. Always. I love you more than anything else in the world, on this stupid planet, you stupid Football Head!”
They stayed like that, tangled in damp sheets, trading slow, lazy kisses as the night set even further, shrouded in moonlight, and the heat finally, mercifully, began to break. The textbooks lay forgotten on the floor. The flashcards were scattered under the bed. They would for the next week until his family finally got back, and it was their secret.
In 3 weeks, they would face the exams. The future would come, with all its uncertainty and change. But they'd never be apart again. They had become one now.
But for now, in the sticky, golden aftermath of summer, they had each other. And for the first time in both their lives, that was enough.
The End
-
Extra scene
“Psst, old man, come here a sec.” Ernie whispered to Grandpa Phil, gesturing to him to come over to the table he was sitting at in Arnold's cousin’s family's farmhouse kitchen. It was the dead of night, they were illuminated by only one small white lamp, and Miles and Stella were long asleep by now.
“I bet you, a whole 50 bucks, Arnold loses his virginity before we get back.” Ernie crossed his arms.
Grandpa Phil took out the chair opposite him and sat down, arms crossed.
“Listen here, Potts, there is literally no way I'm betting against something like the virginity of my grandson.” He looked sternly pointing a finger at Ernie, then continued.
“We'd both know I'd lose!” They both started laughing quietly in the dead of night.
Then a light switched on,
“Miles, did you hear something….”
“Oops, we'd better quieten down, Grandpa.”
"I told you to stop calling me that!"
The two older males switched the kitchen light off and both went to bed in the guest room.