They aren't supposed to do this, they aren't supposed to lay in each other's arms. His isn't supposed to tuck a stray long lock between her ear, he isn't supposed to kiss and nibble at her pink lush lips. He isn't supposed to draw moans and whines from her. She isn't supposed to run her fingers through his hair. She isn't supposed to whisper 'I love you' right before she kisses him and they have a night of moans and sins.
He isn't supposed to look into her gray blue eyes and feel such warmth and love when she smiles, when he sees that damn beanie of hers in a crowd.
She isn't supposed to corner him in the boys locker room when it's just him and have secret makeouts that sometimes lead to other secret things
But
It feels right
And it shouldn't it's wrong
Jughead huffs, thinking about all of this. While laying in Vermont arms as his chest falls up and down in a steady rhythm.
She thinks back to an old thing her dad once said to her.
"Sometimes, the thing we think is wrong. Is actually the right thing."
Looking at the boy she held into her arms? She was wrong.
This is Right.
So she lets out a content sigh and nuzzles into her boyfriend's chest falling into peaceful sleep.