Arnold Loves Helga 5

The two of them walked in silence toward the outskirts of the city where the two major French restaurants, Chez Paris and Chez Pierre, were located. It wasn't exactly an awkward silence, though Arnold sure did feel a bit awkward at the moment. Not just because he couldn't think of anything to say, in fear of setting off the "Helga Bomb", but also because he just couldn't stop looking at her.

It was hard to imagine that Helga could actually pull off looking really, really pretty. Sure, she certainly wasn't the ugliest girl, she was fairly attractive in her own way, and didn't seem to care what others thought of her, she just looked the way she felt comfortable. Despite everything, he couldn't help but...admire her a bit for that. It was just shocking to see her looking beautiful for a change. Really beautiful.

Arnold shook his head at such thoughts and tried to focus on the road ahead. So she was beautiful, what was the big deal? Being beautiful didn't automatically mean you were nice. Easy on the eyes or not, you couldn't change who you were on the inside just because you happened to change yourself on the outside.

Then again, things weren't going so bad at all.

"Sheesh, hair boy, if I knew you were going to be so quiet, I would have gone out on a date with one of my stuffed animals!" Helga suddenly said, breaking his train of thought. Despite her admonishing tone, there was a tint of playfulness in her voice.

Arnold blinked his eyes and looked up at her, seeing her superior smirk. He shook his head and looked away again, knowing that he wouldn't be able to if he kept staring at her. "Sorry Helga, if you want I can call your stuffed Giraffe and see if he'd like to take you up on your offer."

His eyes widened and he covered his mouth as he realized what he'd just said. Why did he do that? Why did he make a playful remark? She'd just take it the wrong way and call him stupid! Oh, why did he say that?

Instead of a remark of "What the heck, football head? I was just kidding!" or something along those lines, Helga giggled lightly behind her hand.

Giggled?!

"Nah, call my stuffed bear, he's been eyeing me for weeks. I think he'll appreciate it more." Helga said, smirking, though her tone was a bit more playful than before.

Arnold's mouth fell open instantly, and he stared at her. "W-What?"

Helga looked over at him, and smirked. She made her hand into a fist, and knocked lightly on his head. "Hello? Anybody out there? These are the jokes, people."

Arnold's eyes widened at this, and he couldn't help but laugh a little. But as soon as the sound left his lips he quickly forced it down, and looked away. "Yeah..."

Helga sighed softly, and looked away also as she spoke. "You don't have to be so nervous like this, Arnold. Not that it's not entertaining, but I really am considering possibly calling up my teddy bear to take me out instead." She looked over at him, hoping to get some kind of response.

His lips curled into a smile, and this time he didn't force it down. "Sorry, it's just..." His smile dropped, "...weird." He sighed, finally meeting her eyes.

She blinked, and then looked down, sighing. "Yeah, okay."

Arnold stared at her, as she seemed almost... sad. He didn't like making people sad, but this was Helga... he didn't think he even had the ability to make her sad. She was usually someone who didn't let people get her down... he thought. Still, he'd done something wrong, and he had to fix it... even if it was Helga.

"Is something wrong?" He asked in genuine concern, and he almost placed a hand on her shoulder, but he quickly withdrew his hand before it could make contact with her shoulder.

She looked over at him, her expression blank. "I..." She looked ahead of them then, and a smile actually came to her lips. "Looks like we're here."

Arnold looked in front of them to see the restaurant, then looked back up at Helga's smiling face. Well, she was smiling again, so maybe it didn't matter.

Stage one: Have dinner. That's all. They'd eat, and leave, and that would be it.

He opened the door, and out of pure instinct, he let Helga go in first, before he walked inside.

He went up the man at the podium, who looked down at them both with cool disdain.

"Hello, we have a reservation here under the name-"

A customer's startled cry was heard at a nearby table.

"Of course, right this way." Said the host, and led them to, ironically, the same table where they were here the first time, back on Valentine's Day.

The realization of that was not lost on either of them, but they kept it to themselves. Arnold went over to the chair Helga was about to seat herself in and pulled it out for her. Hey, he was a gentleman, and chivalry was a must on a date, no matter who it was with.

"Oh....um, thanks." Helga murmured, and sat down.

"You're welcome." Arnold pushed her chair in and then took a seat in the chair across from her. He tensed for a moment, and then decided to distract himself by reading the menu. Unfortunately for him, it was all in French. He stole a quick glance at Helga as she too was reading her menu with a thoughtful yet confused frown on her face.

There was something about her then, that seemed so familiar. But he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Something about the fact she had her hair down, which actually enhanced her pretty getup, and her eyes. Why did she suddenly strike a memory in him, as if he'd seen this somewhere before?

"-football head?" He suddenly heard her question.

Arnold blinked and shook his head, lowering his menu. "Um...what?"

Helga rolled her eyes and repeated herself. "I said, what are you going to have, football head? Sheesh, I knew you were always a dreamer with your head in the clouds, but I didn't think it was THAT much."

An embarrassed blush crossed his face. "S-Sorry Helga. I guess....the menu is pretty hard to read, that's all. I can't read in French."

"Fancy so-called Frenchies think they're soooo cool, making their menus French so the customers don't know what they're eating. For all I know, I could probably end up ordering calf brains and eggs!" Helga remarked. Her eyes widened upon realizing what she'd said and hid her face behind her menu. Criminy! Why did I say that?! She thought.

Didn't Cecile order that last time...? Arnold thought, not quite making the connection. "Oh, um...well, I guess we can always ask the waiter to translate for us if we have to."

"Uh...yeah, yeah, we can." Helga said quickly, glad for the change in subject.

The two of them exchanged glances then, before Arnold blushed and broke it off, looking away. Helga noticed this and raised one side of her eyebrow, but then shrugged it off, figuring it was nothing.

Arnold turned in his seat, and waved one of his arms in the air to try and attract attention. "Um, excuse me... waiter guy!"

Helga rolled her eyes, and then stood from her seat casually. "Allow me, Arnold."

Arnold turned his head to her and blinked in slight bewilderment.

She smoothed out her dress, and then just casually walked away, the dress swishing back and forth as she went.

"Helga, where are you going?"

She didn't answer, just continued walking.

Arnold sighed, and turned back around in his seat, resting his oblong head in his hand. Suddenly he heard a yelp, "Jock Mei Bleu!" He turned in his seat quickly, to see Helga pulling their French waiter over to their table by his bow tie. She plopped down in her seat, and finally released him then.

He straightened himself up quickly, and dusted off his arms, all while giving Helga a very frightened look.

Arnold stared at the man wide-eyed, and then looked over at Helga, who was just casually flipping through her menu then. She sensed his eyes on her, and looked up. Their eyes met, and they held it for a few moments, before Arnold broke it off and looked back to the waiter.

Helga looked at the man too, and then sat her menu in front of him on the table. "Alright, pal, what the heck is all this?"

The waiter looked down at the menu, and pointed to a certain French dish written out in French. "Poulet Frites... it is chicken and fries... I'm sure that that is something up your... alley, as you say."

Helga pursed her lips together briefly, and then spoke, "I had chicken yesterday. What else ya got?"

The man sighed, and then pointed to another dish. "Steak Frites. It is-"

"Yeah, yeah, steak and fries. Sounds good." She then took her menu back and clapped it shut, handing it to the waiter.

He took it, and placed it under his arm, then turned to Arnold. "And for you...?"

Arnold looked at his menu, and smiled a little, pointing to one of the dishes on the menu and looking up at the waiter. "This sounds good. What is that?"

The waiter bent down slightly to see what he was pointing to, and then smiled a little. "Ah, Foie de veau. Excellent choice. It is calf's liver."

Arnold's face suddenly turned green, and then he shook his head, handing the man his menu and laughing nervously. "Um, I think I'll just have what she's having."

The waiter's smile faded, and he sighed, taking his menu. "Very well, sir." And with that, he walked off.

Arnold then turned his attention to Helga, who was just staring at him with a small smile.

He blushed a little. "Do I even want to know what you did to get him out here?"

Helga laughed a little, and not a cruel one either. A genuine laugh that rang out throughout the restaurant. Arnold couldn't help but smile at the sound of it. Finally, she stopped, and shook her head. "No, I don't think you'd want to know." She laid back a little in her seat, and gave him an amused expression.

He smiled at her, but then quickly wiped off his slowly forming grin and looked away. What was going on? Was he actually... having fun? And with... HELGA?!

"So football head, you like video games?" Helga suddenly said, sitting back straight in her seat, propping her elbows on the table, her head on her hands.

"Video games?" Arnold was a little puzzled as to why she was asking such a random question, but shrugged it off. "Yeah, I do. I don't play very often, but they're fun."

"Figured as much. Got any good consoles?"

"I have my dad's old Atari 2600, Sega Genesis, and the NES, I think."

"Whoa, you gotta get with the times, hair boy! The oldest console I have the Super Nintendo and okay, maybe I've got a Pong console too. But for the record, I bet I could kick your butt at any given fighting or racing games." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I don't know, we've never really played video games together." Arnold shrugged. "It's hard to say which one of us would win at those games."

"Well for once, you're right." Helga shook off his annoyed look. "Fine then. Perhaps maybe it's time we arose from the shadows and tested our skills. Mm...they have a Street Fighter arcade console at the arcade. Maybe next time we run into each other at the arcade, we can give it a shot, see who wins." She leaned across the table toward him, smirking.

"You're on." Arnold said, and found himself smile. "I accept your challenge."

"Good to know. Although you should surrender when you have the chance, I sure as heck won't throw away the opportunity of a good challenge." Helga leaned back in her seat again. "So, if you've got the NES, do you have the gun?"

"The gun?"

"You know, the Zapper. The NES gun? You play Duck Hunt and some other shooting games with it."

"Oh! Yeah, I think I do."

"I'm a crack shot with that thing. But oh, a word of warning, do not play the Friday The 13th or A Nightmare On Elm Street games." Helga made a thumbs down. "Pheebs and I rented them once, since she has all the Nintendo Consoles up to now, and we tried them out. Both of them stink!"

Arnold laughed a little. "Okay Helga, I'll take your word for it. Why were they so bad?"

"You really want to know? Well for starters, in the the Friday The 13th game, the control is stiff, you throw rocks as your main weapon which hardly ever hit the zombies, all of the pathways of the camp look the same and sometimes you don't know where you're supposed to go. You collect lighters and weapons, but oh, when you go inside the cabins, they're horrible! The movement is slow, everything looks the same, it takes forever to move around in them! The music sucks, too, it makes you want to mute the TV, but you can't do that because you have to listen for the Jason alarm! And oh, the map screen is terrible! Okay, so you open it up, and the blinking cabin is where Jason is, so you have to go to that cabin, but the worst part is, you go in the exact opposite direction indicated on the map. Say you're trying to go to the right, so naturally in the game, you go right. But no! That doesn't work because it'll show that you're going left on the map screen! How stupid is that?! And don't even get me started on Jason's design. Ugh! I've seen better graphical designs on the Sega Master System!"

"That bad?" Arnold cringed, already not liking the sound of it.

"Better believe it, football head." Helga said. "What games do you have, anyway? If you don't have the Zelda or the Mario games, you're an official disgrace."

"I think I do have them, if I remember correctly."

"Well, then maybe you're not so bad after all."

The waiter then came back with their food. "Your orders, sir and madame."

He sat their plates of food in front of them, along with two glasses of water, and then walked away without another word.

Helga grinned, and began cutting into her steak immediately. "Geez, I can't remember the last time I had an actual meal."

Arnold blinked at her, holding up one of his fries. "What do you mean?" He asked, eating the fry and beginning to unwrap his silverware.

She stopped in mid-chew, and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Uh... nothing." She swallowed quick, and leaned back in her chair a little, looking away nervously.

Arnold could easily sense that there was something she wasn't telling him... but he wasn't too sure if he wanted to know or not. He began cutting into his steak, but then stopped, and sighed. He let his fork and knife fall gracelessly onto his plate, and looked over at Helga. "Helga, if you ever want to talk..."

"I'm fine, Hair boy." She said firmly, and then began eating again as if nothing had happened. "So," She began, changing the subject, "got any pets?"

He chewed on one of his fries, looking over at her with slightly nervous eyes. "Um, yeah, I've got a pet."

"Really?" She asked, her mouth full of steak. She realized how gross she must look, and quickly swallowed. 'Come on, Helga ol' girl. Stay focused. This is your only chance, so stop acting like a pig in front of him!' She smiled at him a little, and picked up one of her fries. "What kind of pet?"

He looked away nervously, and bit his bottom lip for a second. "He's a... a pig."

"Oh, I'm sure he's not that bad. Seriously, what kind of pet do you have?"

"No," He looked over at her. "my pet is a pig."

She looked up at him, blushing. "Oh! Sorry," She laughed nervously. "I get it. That's cool."

His eyes widened a little, and he blinked. "You don't think that's gross?"

"Why would I?" She asked with one side of her eyebrow extended up.

"Well, most girls I tell that to, always tell me that it's gross." He explained, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

She rolled her eyes, and then looked back at him blankly. "Most girls are prisses, Arnoldo."

He blinked at her, and she simply smiled a little, and after a moment, he found himself actually smiling back.

"So what's the piggie's name?"

"Abner. He's a boy." At her confused look, he shrugged. "I'm not sure where he got his name either. I like it though, it suits him. He's pretty cute, and when you pull on his curly tail it goes spoing! Do you have pets?"

"Me? Nah, no way. Although I wouldn't mind having a cat, or even a dog. But given how Bob and Miriam...." Helga began and then cut herself off. "Never mind. Point is, think it'll be a while before I get myself a pet."

Arnold looked puzzled, wondering what she was about to say, and was once more wondering why she seemed so evasive when it came to topics relating to her home life. He wanted to ask her, feeling the usual concern of "Oh no, someone's having a problem, I want to help!". Only, it felt different this time. Still, he decided against it for now. Maybe when she was ready, he'd listen then.

"Oh, okay. Um...Helga?"

"Mmm?" She looked at him, her mouth full of food.

"Um...you know, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about this whole thing." Arnold admitted, looking down at his plate. "I'm sorry you felt obligated to have to go on a date with me. Whoever wrote that message on the wall was-"

"Hey, cool it, football head." Helga said as she swallowed her bite and held up her free hand. "For the record, this isn't TOO bad, you know."
Arnold looked at her with surprise. "It's not?"

"Don't push it. But no, it's not." Helga went back to eating her food.

"Um....okay, well, I'm not having such a bad time either." Arnold admitted. It was strange to think that, or even admit it, but he was actually having a good time. Not the BEST time, but certainly not the worst time.

It was not going as he imagined it at all. In fact, it was going substantially better than he'd ever expected.

Helga swallowed her bite and felt herself inwardly swoon. At least Arnold didn't think of this as a nightmare anymore. That was a relief. Maybe she could kick it up a notch...

"Okay, okay, I'll concede. I'm actually having a good time." She forced herself to say, and looked away, blushing a bit. "I-I guess this wasn't such a bad idea after all."

Her admittance surprised Arnold as he snapped his gaze back to her. She was trying to be sincere, he could see that. It was surprising how things were turning out, especially Helga admitting that she was having a good time, albeit with difficulty. She really wasn't so bad at all.
It was strange, how just some hours ago, he was dreading this entire evening. Now that it was happening like it was, he wasn't scared nor dreading it anymore. In fact, he was more curious as to what would happen next over the course of the date.

Arnold managed a small smile at this. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. I was pretty sure this was a nightmare for you, but I'm glad you're having a good time. To be honest, it's nice that we can just sit and talk like...like...well, friends, I guess." He realized what he'd said and looked away. "I mean-! S-Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Helga gave an amused smirk, raising one side of her eyebrow. "Gee, I never took you for the nervous type, Arnoldo."

He snapped his eyes to hers. "I, um..."

She chuckled a little. "I always considered us friends, Football Head."

His eyes widened, and he gawked at her a little. "You did?"

She looked back at him, now a little nervous after realizing exactly what she'd said. "Well, y-yeah. I mean, sure I don't exactly LIKE you, but that doesn't mean I DON'T like you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "But I thought you hated me. You're always saying that you do."

She sighed lightly, and looked away. "I say a lot of things, Arnold." She informed him quietly, still looking away with half-lidded eyes.

He stared at her, as the candle light flickered and danced across her features. She really did look awfully pretty... His eyes widened at the thought, and he blushed, now looking away. "O-Okay... I, um... consider you a friend too."

She smiled a little, but still didn't meet his gaze. "Good to know."

He nodded, still blushing a little.

She looked back to him, and tucked a strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear. "Anyway, what kind of music do you listen to?" She asked pleasantly, now cutting back into her steak.

He took a sip of his water to try and relieve his obvious blush, and answered her in a slightly choked voice, "Jazz," He cleared his throat, and sat his water back down. "I listen to a lot of jazz."

She nodded, and smiled a little. "Wow. I don't know of too many people who actually listen to that."

He narrowed his eyes at her a little, feeling slightly offended. "What does that mean?"

She looked up at him, surprised by his tone. "Exactly what I said. I don't know too many people who listen to that. It's cool. I've listened to it before. It's relaxing."

He softened and nodded a little, and started eating his own steak again. "Yeah, it is. So what kind of music do you listen to?"

She snickered a little, and he looked over at her curiously. She met his eyes, and smirked. "I listen to rock, along with some metal bands." She snickered again.

He blinked at her, not sure what to make of that. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yup. It's not the ONLY music I like, but that's mainly what I find myself listening to. I'm pretty flexible when it comes to music. I've listened to jazz, rock, pop, classical... you get it." She smiled at him, and took a bite of her steak.

He smiled a little at her, and swallowed one of his fries. "Yeah. I don't just listen to jazz, but it's by far my favorite type of music. I've never so much listened to metal or rock... well, I've listened to rock before, I'll admit. But I'm more into easy listening stuff." He took a bite of his steak.

She smiled at him, and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like you."

He laughed a little. "Yeah, and metal and rock sounds an awful lot like you."

She blinked at him, and ceased her actions of cutting her steak as she let her fork fall. "What do you mean?" She asked, not sure what to think of his comment.

He shrugged, focusing his attention on cutting into his steak. "I don't know... you just seem so hard core most of the time. Waving your fists around constantly. It seems like the type of music you'd listen to." His eyes widened at what he'd just said, and he froze. He was getting a little too comfortable here, if he wanted to get out of this date without losing any limbs then he'd better keep stuff like that to himself. He cleared his throat, and coughed a little. "Never mind."

She rolled her eyes at him, and actually threw one of her fries at him. "Shut up. You cannot just excuse the fact that you just called me a blow hard."

"What? I didn't call you a-"

"You listed off the characteristics of one, though." She raised one side of her unibrow at him, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll have you know right now that I am not a blow hard." She stated indignantly, her nose held high.

He picked the frech fry out of his hair and set it on the table. "I'm sorry, Helga. I didn't mean to-"

"Yeah, yeah. Everyone thinks all I am is a pair of fists and a scowl." She stated a bit angrily, with a small note of sadness in there.

Arnold frowned. "You're not just a pair of fists and a scowl."

She scoffed, looking him straight in the eye now. "Try telling them that."

"Helga." His voice was firm, but gentle, his eyes meeting hers as well. "I know you present yourself in a certain way that makes it hard to overlook, but I know that deep down, you're more than just the schoolyard bully who scowls all the time and waves her fists around all the time. You're a good person, Helga, and you know how to be strong and yet soft at the same time, it's just hard for you to show the nicer side of you, I can tell. But, being nice and kind doesn't automatically mean you have to be a throw pillow. It shouldn't matter what other people think, because what really matters is what you think. You shouldn't have to be afraid to be yourself, whether you want to be really nice or really aggressive."
Just as always, he was right on the money about her. Deny it as she may, he knew her a little more than she'd given him credit for. Helga was speechless, her aggression now melting into awe and surprise, unsure of what to make of this. She watched as he then reached across the table and placed his hand over hers, her eyes widening as she looked down at their hands.

What to do now? The tides were shifting, and if she wasn't careful, things would go ten times worse. And she didn't want that. Her bullying ego was forcing its way into her mind, telling her to go with the "right" (as if) instinct and just force her beloved away and either run off or just stay angry. Yes, she could do that, she had a reputation to uphold anyway. No way she could let this bring her down. Date or not, she was Helga, and Helga was nasty, mean, insensitive, and brash.

No, there's more to me than that! He's right. I'm a walking oxymoron! I'm rough AND soft. I'm gentle AND forceful. I'm nice AND mean. I'm sweet AND sour. I'm meek AND aggressive. Arnold my love, you truly do see past my shields...you see the real me inside. Oh, but why can't I show it? Helga thought, visibly tensing.

She had it in her mind, the conflict of either to just accept what he said or revert to how she usually would react.

Oh yes, she would do that, and solve this in her own fashion.

That was not what happened.

"Arnold...I...." Helga gazed at him, her expression soft and sad. "The truth is, I really..."

"Can I get you anything else tonight?" Came their waiter as he came to their table and picked up their dishes. "Some dessert, a refill of your drinks?"

Arnold blinked as he was brought back to reality, withdrawing his hand and looked from their waiter to Helga, unsure of what to do next. "Um...do you want dessert, Helga?"

"Sure." Helga said nonchalantly. "Bring us some chocolate mousse cake, and make it snappy, Frenchie."

"Er, yes, right away, madame." Said the waiter, who Arnold now glanced at his nametag and saw that his name was Raphael, and he walked away.

The two of them sat in silence, unsure of what to do or say next, considering what had been going on just moments ago. They didn't know where to look, especially at each other.

"Helga...I'm sorry about that, I really didn't mean to put you on the spot or make you feel uncomfortable. I get a little carried away when I try to help others and-"

"Arnold, don't." Helga cut him off. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't try your best to help someone. I know what you were trying to do, and I guess I can't hold that against you. But...listen, just, back off, okay? Unless I ask you to, shut up about me."

Dejected, he nodded and managed to call in his understanding and patience. "All right, Helga. I understand. I'll keep it to myself until you're ready."

"Good." Helga relaxed a little more and looked at him. "Quit looking at me like that, we're still friends, football head. Relax."

A soft blush marred his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah, whatever you say, Helga."

"Darn straight." She smirked playfully, wiggling her brow mischievously.

Despite everything, Arnold couldn't help but smile at her then. Maybe things really would get better and better after all.

Helga grinned at him. "Anyway, anything YOU'D like to know about me? It seems like I'm the only one asking the questions here."

Arnold put on a pensive face for a moment, and then focused his eyes back on her. "Well, I've always wondered why you wear that pink bow." He gestured to her bow.

Her hand went to touch the soft, silkiness of her bow unconsciously, as she looked at him with bright eyes. "Simply because it holds sentimental value. I can't picture myself without my bow... it's like a part of me." She explained a bit thoughtfully, stroking one end of her bow before lowering her hand and sitting it in her lap.

Arnold stared at her, and then blinked. "I know what you mean." He lowered his eyes to the table.

She tilted her head at him. "You mean your hat?"

He nodded, and then looked back up at her. "Yeah, it has... sentimental value too." He ended quietly.

She offered a smile and sat one of her elbows up on the table, then sat her head on her balled up fist, looking over at him. "Guess we've got something in common then."

"Guess so." He smiled a little back.

"Will wonders never cease." She snickered, looking over at him with wide blue eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes at him in an attempt to flirt, but he didn't seem to notice as he was just sitting there smiling at her obliviously. She sighed mentally. 'So cute, so sweet... but so dense.' She thought, as her smile faltered a little.

"Two mousses for the happy couple." Raphael suddenly came and sat a plate of cake in front of both of them. "Enjoy." He left them.

They both blushed at his comment of them being a 'happy couple', but both decided not to mention it out of embarrassment.

Helga cut into her cake, and took a bite of it, humming in appreciation.

Arnold chuckled at the sight, as she seemed to be in pure bliss. He couldn't help but find it kind of... cute.

His eyes widened at that, and he blushed a little, looking away.

She saw his blush, and smiled, thinking of how adorable he was. She let out a mental lovesick sigh.

Arnold heard her sigh and looked to her curiously, and Helga's eyes widened in the realization that she'd actually done that out loud. Arnold didn't seem to notice though, because as soon as he looked at her he noticed a little bit of chocolate on the corner of her mouth that captured his interest.

Out of pure instinct, he took his napkin and reached across the table to wipe away the small splur of mousse.

Helga's eyes widened even more at this, and Arnold's eyes widened too and his actions froze as soon as he realized exactly what he was doing. He quickly withdrew his hand from her face, feeling an even deeper blush crawl up his neck. "S-Sorry..."

She laughed a little nervously, and then bit her lip for a moment. "Y-Yeah, it's okay..."

They went back to eating their slices of cake, while Arnold thought of what to say to break the light tension around them then. "Um, so...what's your favourite colour?"

"Pink." Helga said automatically. "But I guess it's a bit of a tie between pink, purple and blue. You?"

"Blue." Arnold said. "Oh, um, I once overheard you saying you were watching Wrestlemania to Phoebe one time. You like it?"
"You bet! It's so boss. You watch it?"

"Sometimes. It's all right and interesting to watch, but I guess I'm not into violence. Unless it's in self-defense, I guess."

"You're too darn nice, Arnoldo." Helga playfully admonished.

Arnold smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I-I guess so..."

Maybe it was time to kick it up a notch... Oh yes, Helga had a great idea.

"Do me a favour, Arnold." She said, looking at him then.

"A favour?" Arnold looked puzzled. "Well, what is it?"

"...Don't ever change." Was all she said before she went back to eating her cake, blushing a little bit.

Arnold blinked, looking at her in utmost confusion and amazement, unable to comprehend that Helga of all people would say such a thing. And yet, she'd been full of surprises all evening so far. Yes, she'd had her moments of reverting back to "Bully Helga", but for the most part, she wasn't as bad as he'd imagined her to be on this date. In fact, she almost seemed to be enjoying it.

Wait, enjoying it? Could she really be enjoying it, or was she just finding it in herself to humour him, still under the impression that he loved her? He couldn't tell, but she was pretty sincere, especially now. She was so different. Yes, she was still Helga, but it was as if she was exposing a whole new side to her that he only saw on a rare occasion. Here she was, glammed up and looking really pretty, which he still found so surprising that she was actually very pretty when she put effort into it. Heck, she was almost prettier than Ruth McDougal!

Not to mention she was ten times more interesting than her, too.

Wait, interesting?

Interesting. He had to admit, she WAS pretty interesting, and he found himself having a much better time with her than he'd ever expected. In response to her little favour, Arnold smiled and patted her free hand across the table. "Okay, Helga. I won't." He did feel flattered that she found his personality and mannerisms something to value.

She blushed and smiled at him, her eyes meeting his for a moment. His hand lingered as he looked back at her, taking in her appearance, illuminated by the candlelight, which softened her features. Her soft blonde hair fell down her back and shoulders, framing her softened face, her big blue eyes were full of...affection and adoration, and were directed all at him. Soft, romantic music was being played on a violin in the background, adding to the moment between them.

Arnold could barely think then. He was awestruck, caught in the moment of realizing just how soft and beautiful she looked, especially with those big blue eyes of hers looking at him, not an ounce of hatred evident. His eyes fell onto her pouty, pinky red lips, and then back to her eyes. His hand gently tightened on hers, and she responded. He wasn't sure what was coming over him, but he had a sudden urge to get closer to her, leaning across the table toward her. Helga leaned over too, her eyes never leaving his, their hands still joined together, as they came closer and closer to each other. Their lips were just an inch away, just moments from meeting...

"Your bill, sir and madame." Raphael cut in, causing the two to jump apart as if they'd been struck by lightning, placing the bill folder on the table between them. "Have a nice evening, come again." He bowed respectfully before he walked off.

Shaking off the embarrassment, Arnold blinked himself back to reality and reached out to take the bill folder, but his hand just touched it before Helga's did too. He looked at her with confusion, as did she.

"Helga, it's okay, I'll pay for tonight." Arnold said.

"Nah, let me. I'm the one who pretty much said we had to go on a date tonight." Helga responded.

"But I'm the one taking YOU out, so I should pay." He said patiently.

"I'LL pay, Arnoldo." Helga said impatiently, pulling it toward her.

"No, I'll pay." Arnold pulled it toward him.

"No, I will." Tug.

"No, I will." Tug.

"Give it!" Tug.

"No, let go." Tug.

"I said LET go!" Tug.

"No!" Tug.

"Gimme!" Tug.

"No!" Tug.

"I said gimme!" Tug.

"No! ...Wait, Helga, I have an idea." Arnold said. "I'll pay half, and you pay the other half. How about that?"

Helga blinked, having not thought of that. "Well, okay. Sounds fair." She took her wallet out of her purse and fished out a few dollar bills. "How much is it?"

Arnold checked the price and winced a little. "$30."

"Um...okay..." Helga placed fifteen dollars into the folder, and he did the same. "All right, we're done, now let's get out of here and get to the movies."

Arnold gave a nod and got off his chair. "Okay, Helga. Let's go."