"But you can't be twenty-one forever." (lyric from Punchline, "21 Forever")

Twenty-One Forever

The end of her skin-tight black dress was taught up around her thighs, making it slightly difficult for her to fully wrap her legs around her current lover's upper body. He could sense her struggles between deep kisses, so he quickly rested his knee under her and she smiled gratefully, not that he could tell. She was very dizzy, all the drinks he had bought her clearly were making her easy. But he was attractive enough, she reasoned in her mind, so it was okay.

He had first sent her a drink at the bar at ten, after her friends had left her alone to hit up the dance floor. It seemed innocent enough, and she was certain about turning it down, until she got a real look at him. He was model-like with his facial features, very well-defined and strong, with very plump lips. He was almost the definition of perfect. He was wearing a blue small pinstriped button up shirt that made his eyes seem very bright.

She could remember cracking some stupid joke about bars. . .what was the punchline? It didn't really matter. Why was she thinking about this now? Their conversation had been boring; he was boring.

He was too busy to focus on anything besides catching his breath and slowly slipping his fingers under her dress, and the small moan of pleasure she released encouraged him to completely remove her lacy thong. She took this as a sign to slip her hands into his pants, finally removing her fingers from his curly brown hair. His belt undid easily, and her hands teased him for a moment while she toyed with the hemline of his boxer-briefs. He made a sound of protest, as if she was torturing him and he wanted to give in. She smiled and finally reached down to his length and began her usual routine.

Her mind always wandered at this point. She enjoyed feeling the heat between her legs, but sometimes she couldn't help but get so focused on the fact that she'd always forget his name. What the fuck was his name this time? Andrew? No. . . Jack? No-her entire body suddenly twitched and the guy smiled. He kissed her, bringing his body even closer. Her still-moving hands and his lower body got slightly crushed, but he paid no attention as he continued on working under her dress. Her thoughts momentarily returned to his name, but she quickly gave that up, it was pointless and she could feel her heart beat picking up.

Her body rocked naturally, back slamming against the door as her hips rocked up and down. She bit her lip to prevent a ridiculously loud cry of passion. It always felt so fucking good.

Her body finally shuddered, and then seconds later the man before her shuddered as well, a sign that the two were done. He whispered her name between gasps for oxygen. After blinking back a momentary flash of white, she slowly removed her legs from around his waist, adjusted her dress, wiped her hands clean and smiled. She picked up her sparkling black clutch and fixed her hair.

The man smiled, revealing perfect, white teeth. "That was great, Helga."

But she had already walked out the door.

Helga was back in the dimly lit hallway, trying to get the stench of cigar smoke out of her face. Loud rap music pounded from the speakers hanging above her and she finally reemerged into the strobe lights at a spot behind the dance floor. She pushed her way through the crowded dance floor, dodging the drunk dancers and couples making out against the walls. Eventually she stumbled out into the chilly New York night. It was almost two in the morning. She slipped slightly on the cracks in the sidewalk, cursing the fact that she just had to wear four-inch high heels tonight.

Her breath slowly wafted into the air as she sighed, a white cloud slowly disappearing from sight. Helga should've known better than to leave without getting her underwear back on, or her coat for that matter. But she hated having to deal with her hooks up after hooking up.

"Damn it," she hissed between her teeth. Instead of immediately walking back to her apartment, or letting her roommate know where she was, Helga decided to stand under the streetlamp and smoke. She fumbled with her purse and lighter for a few minutes, unable to keep herself steady. Her body was swaying slightly from side to side.

Smoking was a wonderful thing, she decided, as she immediately felt a warmth in her chest as she inhaled the toxic chemicals. Ten minutes later her cigarette was done, so she decided that now was a good time to leave.

This winter in New York City was particularly bone chilling, but lacked snow. Helga had to grit her teeth and bare it though. She kept her thoughts warm, thinking about taking a hot bath when she got home, snuggling deep under her covers and sleeping off the hangover she'd know she'd have tomorrow. Why did she have to order three apple martinis?

How the fuck am I even standing right now? she wondered just before the world went even fuzzier. Fucking alcohol.

At nine a.m., Helga's alarm went off, blaring a loud rock song on the radio. Her tongue was covered with remnants of alcohol and ash. She groaned and rolled over, wishing she had died on her walk back home. She really should have hypothermia now or something. Her head was throbbing, and the sound of her roommate's phone ringing felt like jackhammers in her skull. A loud knock made Helga shrink deeper under her covers. Her roommate could get the door.

After listening to the usual exchange, there was a call for her. "Helga! Get your hungover ass out here!" Groaning, Helga forced herself to her feet. The world spun and she stumbled slightly, still in one of her heels, but she managed to open her bedroom door. She realized her dress was very messed up, and probably showing a little too much, but she didn't care at the moment.

Her heart stopped when she saw who was standing in the door way. "Oh God," Helga moaned. She was going to vomit, there was an intense burning in her stomach.

"Hi, Helga," her timid voice was barely audible since all the blood rushed to Helga's ears. Helga stood a few feet back from the door, dumbfounded. How could she forget today of all days?

"Hi, Phoebe," Helga smiled and tried to blink the morning haze of sunlight out of her eyes. Her best friend was suddenly so tall, probably inheriting her height from her Mom, if Helga could remember correctly. . . Phoebe's hair was long, falling far past her shoulders, but half of it was held neatly on the back of her head in a bun. She was dressed casually in jeans, sneakers, a long sleeved shirt and a puffy winter coat draped over her arm. She no longer had glasses, instead her eyes were shining brightly behind contacts.

Helga's roommate invited Phoebe in, but Helga was surprised to see a familiar African American boy standing behind her. Her shock quickly faded when she felt uncontrollable laughter bubble up from her stomach. He had a soul patch. Thankfully the rest of his hair was buzzed short, and he had grown much taller. And stronger, too. Helga could tell from the way he clenched his fists, his arm muscles flexed tightly in his sweater.

Then once Gerald was inside, Helga was stunned into a comatose state as her eyes set on a familiar sight of blond hair on an oblong shape head. She couldn't even really look at him, her eyes suddenly misted with tears for some unknown reason. For fuck's sake! she thought bitterly. Her stomach churned, she felt the bile burning her esophagus. She quickly darted to the bathroom, locking the door and emptying her stomach of the acid and alcohol.

She then turned on the shower, praying that her guests would get the hint that they needed to leave. Helga pressed her ear to the bathroom door, hoping to hear the sound of the door close. Instead, she heard her roommate chattering on about the party Helga went to last night while inviting the boys to turn on the TV.

Helga decided to take her sweet time in the shower, the heat felt great against her frozen skin, throbbing head and her tired body. Forty minutes later Helga stepped out in her robe, quickly making her way back to her bedroom. Once she was dressed in skin-tight skinny jeans (the only jeans she owned really) and a low cut long sleeved shirt she decided that she was decent enough to say hello to everyone. With an internal grunt of protest, Helga moved forwards.

"-And then she disappeared into the back of the club with some guy from my school named Alex. After that happened we decided to leave."

Alex, Helga nodded, yeah, that sounds right. "You guys are horrible friends," Helga smiled. "What if he raped and killed me?"

"You're strong enough to fight any guy, Helga," her roommate laughed. Phoebe looked slightly horrified. Gerald kept his eyes focused on his feet, running his palms over his head as he shook it back and forth. Helga couldn't even bare to look at Arnold.

"So, who wants to go sightseeing?" Helga flashed a smile and pulled Phoebe to her feet. The two boys reluctantly followed behind. Helga grabbed her clutch off the counter and yelled back to her roommate, "You better be gone when we get back!"

The walk back downstairs was spent in silence as Helga's thoughts raced. When was the last time she'd seen Arnold? Eighth grade?

Of course, she had hoped she had gotten over him. Clearly from the way she'd been behaving since high school she had thought she was. She'd been hooking up with random guys since her sophomore year at Franklin High. She'd been in a few relationships, but nothing serious like Gerald and Phoebe. They'd been together since fifth grade!

The elevator suddenly crashed on the lobby floor and Helga tried to keep her thoughts off her past. Her heels clicked on the tiled floor of her apartment lobby, then they quickly muffled as she stepped out onto the concrete. She shivered at the contact of the bitter New York air. Early mornings were always the worst, especially in the winter with a nasty hangover.

"So, Helga," Gerald's deep voice made Helga tense up inside. She could tell a questioning was in order. "Where should we go?"

Helga pursed her lips together and thought for a moment. Obviously they should hit up Times Square and The Empire State Building. Where else? "I hate to be a bitch-"

"No, you don't," Gerald laughed.

Helga continued on, ignoring him, "but I need some breakfast. Aren't you guys hungry? You've been traveling all morning."

Gerald nodded, "I could eat something." Helga pushed the three into a nearby pancake house, half-smiling at the waitress who immediately knew Helga's "usual."

"Frequent customer, I assume?" Gerald smiled as he took Phoebe to their own table. Helga kept her jaw taught as Arnold sat down across from her. Helga kept her eyes away from him, focused on anything but Arnold's disappointed stare.

Three minutes of intense silence made Helga finally cave.

"So, um. . .," Helga coughed to relive some of the awkward tension, "how have you been?"

"Are you asking me or the table?" Helga smirked, rolling her eyes. His voice was deeper than Helga remembered. Finally her sapphire eyes met his green ones. "Hey," Arnold smiled.

Helga took this minute to study him. He was tanned, which she assumed was a good thing since it was the dead of winter, and it was obvious he had matured. He was taller, his shoulders were very broad, and Helga could see the definition of muscle in his arms. What is it with these guys and tight sweaters? she wondered absentmindedly before remembering she had to reply.

"So, how's Hillwood been? I bet it's falling apart without me."

Arnold laughed a deep, genuine laugh that made Helga's stomach twist. "I actually wouldn't know. I was only there for a day."

"Oh, right. I almost forgot. Are you still in San Lorenzo?"

His smile grew. "Yeah. It's been really great, but it's nice to just be back in the States, too."

Helga nodded, hoping to continue a conversation about him and not her. "I can imagine. When's the last time you've been home?"

Arnold smiled, "This is the first time I've been able to come back." Helga's jaw dropped before her brows furrowed.

"Then what are you doing in New York? Why don't you want to be back in Hillwood seeing -"

"No one's there anymore. I don't even think the boarding house still stands. A lot's changed since you left."

"It's only been. . ." Helga's voice trailed when she realized it had been almost eight years since she'd left. "Shit."

A moment later, their food arrived. It was silent until the waitress disappeared back into the kitchen. Helga took one look at her food and suddenly didn't feel like eating. The knot in her stomach was going to rip through her body if this conversation was going where she thought it was.

"Helga, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she replied with fake-confidence. She knew where this was going.

"Why did you run away?"

And there it was. The million dollar question, being shot to her now, when she was hungover and half-awake, sitting across from the person she'd been avoiding for years.

Helga brought her attention to her short stack of pancakes, intently focused on cutting into them slowly. She kept her eyes down as she replied, "It just seemed like the better option at the time."

Arnold dropped his utensils on the edge of his plate, sitting back against the booth's vinyl cushion, "You were fourteen."

Helga stopped cutting and curled her knife and fork in her fists, "And so were you when you got up and left!"

Arnold's eyes went wide as he watched Helga attempt to curl in on herself.

It suddenly all made sense.

The world was spinning for Helga. Not the drunk-dizzying way, but in the Oh-God-I-Can't-Believe-I-Just-Said-That way. Her body seemed to be buzzing, the heat in her face was reverberating down her entire body. Her eyes couldn't focus on one specific point for long. She bit hard onto her lower lip, mentally cursing herself out for saying that out loud.

It was silent for a minute as Arnold tried to gather his thoughts. "You ran away because of me?"

Helga said it before she could stop herself, "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Football Head. I had thousands of reasons to leave." She started counting on her fingers, "Horrible parents, the fact that everyone just absolutely hated me, and of course finding out that Olga was moving back home was just the final push I needed to get the fuck out of there."

Arnold knew she was half-lying. He could remember the day he told her he was moving to San Lorenzo like it was yesterday.

It had been a normal day until Arnold got home from middle school. He received the news from his grandparents, who excitedly agreed to come along with him, leaving the boarders in charge of the house.

Arnold was beyond ecstatic. He was going to see his parents again! After finally making contact through different rescue organizations, he found the location of his parents. Somehow his grandparents had extra money tucked away and decided to rent a plane to take them away. It was planned to arrive tomorrow afternoon.

Arnold invited all of his classmates over, and they wouldn't be arriving for another hour, but the doorbell rang. He heard his grandmother cry, "Eleanor, darling!" before shutting the front door. Arnold quickly ran down the stairs. Helga never came over without a reason. And that reason usually meant she needed to vent. Over the years, Helga learned to accept Arnold's opinions - they were one of the few she actually trusted.

Helga smiled at Gertie before quickly marching up the stairs. Arnold stood frozen at the bottom until he heard his bedroom door slam. Arnold sighed and ran up the steps two at at time until he reached his attic. He knew Helga was probably already on the roof, pacing back and forth.

She always did that when she was upset, coming over fresh from a fight with her parents. Arnold had asked her why she came here instead of going to Phoebe's, and she replied with a sarcastic, "The fresh air helps me think."

Arnold slowly crept through his skylight and waited until Helga began speaking.

She paced for another minute before stopping. She spoke through her grinding teeth, "Olga's moving back home."

Ah, so it was this fight again, Arnold thought. He had tried giving her advice about it before, but she clearly didn't listen."I don't get why you dislike her so much. She's your big sister!"

"And a bigger pain in the ass. As soon as she gets home Bob's going to act like the greatest father, of course he doesn't know shit about me. And Miriam will try to clean up her act, but who knows how long that lie will last." She forcefully exhaled, her fists clenching and unclenching in rage. Arnold watched her, listening to her curse under her breath. He knew it was best until she was completely calm before speaking again. She sounded as if she was on the brink of tears.

Suddenly, it was quiet, only the sounds of nighttime Hillwood neighborhood traffic carrying in the wind. Helga sighed, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. "God, this weekend could not get any worse."

Arnold cringed, feeling as if he was kicked in the gut, "Actually-"

Just from the way he looked at her, Helga immediately knew what was happening. Her heart dropped until she couldn't feel it beating in her body. "No, Arnold. Don't tell me -" Tears rushed to her eyes. Helga's heart shattered in her chest. He had been talking about it for years and now. . .

"I'm sorry, Helga."

That did it for her. She completely broke down. "You can't leave," she sobbed. She no longer cared about her tough-bully appearance. She didn't care that she was bawling her eyes out into Arnold's chest. She wound her arms tightly around him, whispering in a voice she thought that only she could hear, "You can't leave me now when I need you the most." Unfortunately for her, Arnold heard her say it. And it killed him inside.

She left a few minutes after that, once she delivered a final yelling at him. She took the fire escape to avoid being seen by any of the borders. She never came back to say goodbye.

Arnold eye's set on Helga's slightly shaky hands. "I told you on the same night you fought with your parents. Don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember!" she hissed before clenching her fists. "How could I forget it? I made a complete idiot out of myself-"

"You guys ready to go?" Phoebe's voice made Helga jump.

"Yes!" Helga hastily rose to her feet and darted towards the door with Phoebe on her heels. Phoebe paused at the door, glancing between Arnold and Gerald, as if signaling her boyfriend to talk to Arnold.

Gerald slid into the booth, taking Helga's seat. "I take it you told her then?"

"Told her what?"

"That you got accepted to NYU? That you'll be living here starting in January? Any of that ring a bell?"

"I barely got around to mentioning anything. We got stuck on the last time we saw each other."

"Oh, shit. You mean when she ran from you crying off your rooftop eight years ago?" Arnold pinched the bridge of his nose, nodding. "Don't let her stress you out. You weren't worried at all before."

"That was until -"

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." Gerald rose to his feet. "I know that look, Arnold. And believe me, that's a look I do not want to see on you. Please tell me you haven't." Gerald paused, examining his friend's face. "Oh, fuck, you have."

Arnold stood up too. "Come on, let's go see New York."

Helga grit her teeth, clenching her jaw so hard she feared she'd break her molars. "Phoebe, why didn't you tell me he was coming?"

"He was supposed to tell you why himself," Phoebe smiled and held onto her friend's arm reassuringly. Helga was still surprised that Phoebe was tall enough to easily reach her shoulder.

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"I really can't do that, Helga. Just tell me what got you so upset. Why did you run out of there?"

"You know why," Helga sighed and slumped against a crosswalk sign. Actually, Phoebe didn't.

"Alright, I can tell you don't want to talk about it." Phoebe hugged her friend reassuringly. "So tell me what you've been up to since we last saw each other."

Helga shrugged. "It's mostly been sex and alcohol. And parties, can't forget about the parties, or the clubs. Oh, and the smoking. I have some cigarettes in my purse."

Although Helga had spit it out in a joking tone, Phoebe knew she was dead serious. "How do you make money?"

"Olga convinced my parents to send me two hundred a month, the little bitch. I assume they're no longer in Hillwood if I keep getting mail from California, am I right?"

Phoebe nodded. "Your dad expanded his company. It's now nationwide and your parents moved to California to help your sister with her acting."

"I should start asking for a lot more money."

"Oh, Helga, you're terrible."

Helga smiled, "You haven't changed, Phoebe." She paused. "Well, on the inside anyway. So how's your life been? Sorry I haven't. . ."

"It's okay, Helga. I know how you work better than you think. You needed your space, so I let you go. It was hard to see you leave, but you managed to become your own person. Believe me when I say you would've hated high school back in Hillwood."

"I hated it here, too." The best friends laughed. "I would've hated it anywhere because. . ."

"Alright, let's see The Big Apple!" Gerald took Phoebe's hand in his and waited for Helga to lead the way. She found walking in heels to be very easy now that she was sober, but she definitely wished she could down a few shots of some hard liquor before spending the day with Arnold. Today would be torture.