You don't think I know, do you? You think I still buy that 'football head' insult. I know you like me; love me. And I know you think I don't like you, love you, back.

You kissed me right on the lips and shouted your love in my ear, and then tried to pass it off as a 'spur of the moment' thing. Right. But I still shrugged, knowing it was hard for you(I hadn't exactly gotten used to it myself). "Anything you say, Helga." I'd said.

You've been watching me. I know, because lately I've been watching you, too. I've been watching you write in the pink book of yours(For such a 'mean', 'masculine' girl, you sure do like pink a lot…), comb your blonde hair with your fingers, adjust your dress, read your wrestling magazines and… Blink.

I hate it when you blink. For just a split second, I can't see those pretty, soulful blue eyes of yours. You hide them, just like you hide who you really are. You shouldn't. You are a wonderful person with a good heart, and a beautiful girl besides. I'm going to tell you that, someday… No.

I'm going to tell you right now. I'm going to tell you…

"Helga… I love you."