Old Habits
She didn't know what it was about Reggie Mantle that made her keep rushing back to him. Perhaps because she knew that one day that idiot would go and do something fully stupid that he wouldn't be able to come back from. And maybe that day was when she got a text from him. A simple three word text that made her jump onto her pastel blue Schwinn stingray and race off in the middle of the night.
At the hospital
So short, so simple, so Reggie. He wasn't an explainer. He was straight and to the point. He didn't waste time with mall talk or dillydallies and maybe, once upon a time his frank nature was something she found solace in. It was better than the constant talk-arounds that Pop and her mother tended to push her way when her mother suffered some sort of medical setback or they came up short on their bills.
But that was then and this was now and Reggie Mantle better have a damn good explanation for sending something like that!
Wynn's bike toppled over the moment she hopped off it. She'd barely had the front tire situated in the rack in front of the hospital. But she got there in record time and her legs may feel like they were weighed down with sand and her lungs may burn but she was there.
The harsh fluorescents assaulted her the minute she rushed in through the double doors, stopping her in her tracks. Her eyelids slammed shut and her mouth twisted into a grimace. After the amount of times she'd visited over the years she figured she'd be used to it by now. She didn't want to get used to something else.
"Wynnie."
Ugh. Wynn's prepared snarl fell off her face when she spotted Reggie slumped in the under-stuffed waiting room chair. His long arms flopped over the armrests of the chair like noodles, a chance of pace to his head-held-high rigid posture. Her biting comment, which once sat poised at the tip of her tongue, dissolved as she rushed over and dropped into the seat next to him. Wynnie. She remembered when he used to call her that, in the sweetest of moments shrouded in night. Reggie and Wynnie, they used to be called, as they walked down the hallways hand in hand. Two years ago. A lifetime away.
"What the hell happened?" she demanded, searching his face. Aside from a few scratches it looked put together as usual. The Mantle Masterpiece was ever ready to show his face again.
"Nothing," Reggie grunted.
Wynn scoffed, leaning back in her seat. "Nothing," she repeated. She scoffed again. "Nothing didn't get me all the way out here in the middle of the night."
His lips pulled back in one corner. "Careful. Someone might think you care about me."
Wynn licked her lower lip. Don't go there. "So, what happened? A deal went wrong?" His extra curricular activities, once the nail in their relationship coffin, wasn't lost on her. Even though she wished he'd stop, Reggie was a force of nature even she couldn't control in the long run.
His smirk fell. He blew out a breath and pushed a hand through his hair. He shifted his weight, crossed his arms over his chest, and that's when it hit her. That metallic scent only an abundance of iron could produce. Her eyes narrowed and a lump formed in her throat. Her eyes ping-ponged over his body, searching for the cause.
This wasn't lost on Reggie. "Checking me out?"
"Something like that," Wynn replied, her eyes shifting from his precious bulldog varsity jacket down to his waist. Hmm. Her eyebrows crinkled and her eyes rose back up, pausing briefly when she spotted a dark splotch on the yellow. Mud, perhaps, due to the storm? But maybe…
Her hand shot out and she grasped his hand. Her body jolted with an electric shock and her stomach twisted tightly. Certainly she would be over this by now, over the butterflies and racing hearts. But their wings flapped harder when he took her bait, like she expected, and grasped her hand in return. She pulled his arm backwards, his muscle tensing beneath her pull, and she looked down at hi palm. At the sticky, dried red smudges. He fought to close his fingers, take his arm back but she held on tight. She was the only one to beat him in an arm wrestling contest. "Reg," she whispered.
"I'm fine," he grunted.
"Try telling me that when you're not in the hospital."
"I'm here for Dilton."
"What!?" Wynn's head whipped up, shifting her gaze from his palm to his face, searching for some sort of clue that this was a prank. He stared back, she felt it all the way down to her toes and she gulped, having her answer. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine." He shifted in his seat, cleared his throat, and continued, "Some…Serpents. The pussies came outta nowhere, jumped Dilton. Stabbed him with a knife. He's fine."
"And you were there?"
His lip twitched in the corner. "No. No. Dilton called me. Got there as soon as I could."
His words landed on the bullseye of her bullshit meter. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, rubbing his left hand on the leg of his jeans. "Why would he call you and not an ambulance?" Wynn asked.
"'Cause he doesn't want to owe them a leg and a kidney?" Reggie replied, sarcasm pooling around his feet.
"So then why did you text me?"
He shrugged. "Guess I was curious."
"About what?"
"Wanted to see if you'd still come."
All fight extinguished, her body sagged. She pulled her hand out of his, briefly noting the lack of warmth before pushing the invading thought aside. No, don't go there again. You're doing so well. And so she rebuilt her wall, keeping Reggie Mantle on the other side, away from her and away from her vulnerable heart. She stood, brushing the seat of her pants, and crossed her arms. "I should get going. Pop will have the whole town looking for me if he finds out I left."
Reggie stood. "Let me give you a ride."
"You drove Dilton."
"Andrews is here. He can take Dilton back."
Wynn shook her head. "I brought my bike."
"Throw it in the back. Plenty of room. I'm sure you remember."
This time she mimicked his smirk, chuckled at the resurgence of his bravado and sighed. "Don't even think about trying to kiss me goodnight."
"You'd probably bite off my tongue."
"You're probably into that."
"For the right chick?" He pointedly looked her up and down. "Yeah. Definitely."
"In your dreams, Mantle." She pushed his arm and walked off. Her head cocked to the side a she walked, her doc martens clomping against the ground and then she sighed. "And stop checking out my ass."
His laughter made her slow and wait for him to catch up.
A/N: This takes place after the fight in Season 2, episode 4 "The Town that Dreaded Sundown." So, this is a one-shot tumblr prompt for my Riverdale OC, Wynn Tate, granddaughter of Pop Tate. She's just a plot bunny for now; I do have an idea for a fanfic featuring her but I'm not sure if/when I'll put it up. Funnily, I didn't even intend for her to be paired with Reggie but then this happened and now I'm kinda into it. Reggie's always been a character that I wish was explored a little more so, I figure, may as well do it myself. Let me know what you think, thanks for taking the time to read.
~C.M.