Chapter 1:
Veronica Lodge was nothing if not a seasoned diplomat. The nervous downward flit of Betty's green eyes as she reached an arm up to spin the dial on her locker, did nothing to dissuade Veronica in her pursuit of concession.
"Come on, Betts," she purred, clasping the long fingers of Betty's free hand between her own and giving them an enthusiastic squeeze whilst bobbing playfully on her toes, "it will be so much fun! And I promise you won't have to do anything you don't want to do. I just can't imagine enjoying a night out without you!" Veronica chirped, looking up from underneath her heavy lashes to give the taller girl her most fervent puppy dog eyes. Betty's shoulder's slumped with a deep exhale, and Veronica knew she had won.
"Fine, Ronnie. But only if you promise I don't have to do anything I don't want to do." Veronica smiled her Cheshire cat grin and made a delicate cross over her heart with a merlot-painted nail,
"You will not have to do anything or anyone that you don't want to. Scout's honor," and with that she sprang to her tiptoes and gave the blonde a slightly lingering kiss on the cheek, the edge of the red lipstick print left by it dangerously close to the corner of Betty's mouth. "Kevin and I will pick you up at 9!" Veronica called over her shoulder as she pranced off to class, leaving the now blushing and flustered Betty in her wake.
When Kevin and Veronica pulled up to the curb outside Betty's house, Veronica opened the door the instant the car came to a stop, flitting up the steps and away from Kevin's continued grumbles of having been unluckily elected the DD (Veronica's shiny new fake ID had been ever so thoughtfully on her part, accompanied by one for Betty and one for Kevin) and toward the deceptively warm glow of the Cooper house. Coming to a stop at the front door, Veronica smoothed any wrinkles out of her dress that may have come of the seatbelt Kevin insisted she wear. The dress was the definition of an LBD, and her favorite of many. Strapless, it had a sweetheart V'd top that plunged as deeply as the slit in the right thigh ventured upward. Her hair was straightened and flowing in long black curtains about her face. Accompanied by her cat-eye liner and thick mascara, and lips adorned with a shock of red, she knew she would have given Cleopatra a run for her money. As she gave herself a final once over and lifted her neatly manicured hand to knock, a classic Veronica Lodge I know exactly how hot I look, thank you very much smirk was drawing the corners of her lips upward. But when Betty opened the door, it was as though someone had slapped that look off her face, as her cheeks became an unwelcome shade of crimson, and her mouth popped open in an decisively not Veronica Lodge manner.
Veronica's eyes didn't know where to start, and definitely didn't know if they could stop. Betty's hair was curled neatly away from her face in silken blonde folds that cascaded down one side, every bit a 21st century Rita Hayworth. A silken, deep emerald blouse hung loosely about her shoulders, and plunged in a deep V, hinting at the soft curve of her breasts and displaying the fine, toned line of her abs that started at the base of her sternum. The sleeves were slit down the top of the arm, shoulder to wrist, bound by delicate strands of fabric, and the bottoms of the sleeves flowed mesmerizingly. As Betty turned to quickly lock the door, Veronica's mouth drooped impossibly farther as she saw the diamond of soft, ivory flesh, where the back of Betty's shirt wasn't. The cut-out of fabric displayed the blonde's delicate shoulder blades, the finely toned muscles of her back, all the way down to the dimples in the small of her spine. Then Veronica's eyes had nowhere left to go but down. The hem of the deep emerald fabric was tucked into the tightest black leather skirt Veronica had ever seen. And she blinked in surprise at her own mind as she found the thought that it was adorning the finest ass she'd every seen creeping to the forefront of her consciousness. The skirt hugged every perfect inch and stopped mid thigh to give way to the naked flesh of long, toned legs, seemingly never ending legs, that finely lead Veronica's eyes to black stilettos.
"Hey, Ronnie," Veronica's eyes found their way to the source of the voice and Betty's soft, full lips, coated in their signature pink gloss.
"H-hey, smokeshow" Veronica managed to stammer out, watching Betty's lips curve into a smile that Veronica followed up to her nervously smiling green eyes.
"How do I look?" Betty murmured, every ounce of her uncertainty shining out at Veronica from behind those gorgeous greens. Before Veronica could even register the words, they were tumbling out of her mouth,
"You look like sex," her instant mortification at her completely uncouth and definitely less than subtle reply, was reflected in the crimson that crept into Betty's cheeks.
"Thanks, I think? Kevin helped me pick it out, so I guess the credit is all his. You look amazing too, Ronnie. But that's never not true," the blonde giggled nervously. Veronica swallowed the ball of fire that she felt creeping through her chest and up her neck the longer she looked at Betty, and plastered her signature Veronica Lodge smirk across her carefully painted lips, trying to trick herself into some semblance of control and self-restraint. Said restraint went rocketing out the window as Betty slipped past her and strode towards the car, and Veronica's eyes cascaded down that diamond of exposed flesh back to the leather clad curve of Betty's ass.
"Ronnie, are you coming?" Betty's voice called softly over the dumbfounded buzz humming in Veronica's lust-addled brain. Veronica's eyes snapped up and her feet set into motion, as if being pulled by the tractor beam that was Betty. She managed to look past Betty and see Kevin, leaning across the passenger's seat to open the door for the blonde, and as their eyes met, a devilish, lion-sized grin spread over his perfectly white teeth, and he giddily mouthed, "You're welcome!" Veronica's eyes narrowed and she stared daggers into the unabashedly grinning Kevin. She couldn't decide which desire was stronger; the one telling her to murder Kevin, or the one telling her to praise his holy name for that leather skirt as it hit her bedroom floor later.