She can't know what that dress does to him, surely. It's deep purple colour so different to the usual pastels that she wears. This dress is something different, the way it hugs the curves of her body, does things to him. If her aim tonight was to get his attention, then well done Betty Cooper, mission accomplished. His eyes follow her as she moves around the room. She has to know he is here, he has been living with the Andrew's for some time now. He couldn't miss this party if he tried. He likes to think that maybe she is looking for him.

He watches as she gracefully moves around the room, from guest to guest, social graces come easy to her, not him. He is much more satisfied to be standing alone in the Andrew's kitchen, nursing his beer and watching the crowds as an observer. Well maybe not completely satisfied, Betty's company was always welcome.

He watches on as she heads towards the jocks and he presumes she is going to chat to Archie. Instead she is giving a playful smile to Reggie Mantle and he can feel his blood begin to boil. He can feel an itch prickling all over his skin, spreading like a rash. She lightly touches the footballer's arm, her face lighting up at what he expects is some lame joke that he has told her.

And then her eyes flash towards him. She looks straight at him only for a moment but now he knows. He feels like a fool. They have been skirting around each other since restarting the Blue and Gold and investigating Jason Blossom's murder. They have always been friends since he can remember but he feels that they have never been as close as they are now. He wants to tell her how he feels but something continues to stop him. Maybe it's his own insecurities about himself, maybe it's because he feels that he will never measure up to her, that he isn't what she deserves, he's not enough.

So in that moment when they were alone in her room, after they had gone to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy together only to be sprung by Alice Cooper he had climbed up to her room, something he would never have dreamed of doing before. And then he had used a reference to Romeo and Juliet and wanted to slap himself for it. So cliché, but that was what she did to him.

The moment had been there, he had wanted to tell her, she had glanced at his lips, pressed him to further the conversation with words or actions and he had just turned away from her, running his hand over his face in frustration at his own in action. Instantly changing the subject turning back to face her a look of what could be but he wasn't sure, disappointment on her face. Then they were wrapped in the investigation again and the moment passed. Not that there weren't other opportunities, he just let them slip by one by one.

A pretty laugh soars over the music in the house, breaking him away from his own thoughts and he knows who it belongs to almost instinctively, like his ears have been tuned into every sound she makes. She is leaning into Reggie now, her hand firmly on his arm, fingers gripping as she ,nods along intently, her face giving the impression that she is absorbing every word, but he knows better.

He is making little deals with himself, if she does his arm again, he'll head over, if he puts his arm around her, if, if, if. And yet he can't get his legs to move. He just stands there silently fuming.

He sees her on her tip toes whispering something into Reggie's ear, who gives her an eager nod, leaving the room. She starts to head for the kitchen, for him. His eyes never leave her form as she stalks towards him, but her eyes are focused directly behind him, as if he isn't even there and he feels a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. It's as if she is punishing him for his inaction.

She opens the fridge pulling out two beers and he presumes that she is taking one for Reggie, that they are having a secret rendezvous, and the thought of that makes something rise up inside of him that is all consuming.

"It's rude to stare." She is next to him, brushing ever so slightly against him as she reaches past him to access the drawer. Its is such a brief light touch, but it feels like it burns, tempting him into making it more. She opens the drawer, grabbing the bottle opener and opening the two bottles with ease, the caps flying off into the sink.

"What are you doing Betts?" She pauses as she seems to consider his words, before she shakes her head dismissing the question completely.

"I'm just having some fun Jug," she snaps back at him and he is taken aback by her tone.

"Reggie Mantle?" he questions her his tone disbelieving. Her eyes give nothing away and she only nods in response. Her eyes flit downwards for a moment, as if even she cannot believe her actions.

"He's funny." She shrugs her shoulders and turns to leave, he grabs her arm and she turns to face him. She looks up at him wide eyed. "Are you jealous?"

His grip tightens on her arm, willing his brain to send the message to his mouth to just say it, to say what she means to him. That he finds him thinking about her without meaning to, that she is about the only thing he looks forward to at school, that he wants to know what her lips feel like against his own.

She notices his eyes flick down to her lips as she asks him. He doesn't reply but she knows the answer. That was the point of this little exercise wasn't it? The dress, Veronica's idea, hugging in all the right places, more revealing and tempting than her usual dresses. Looking at him like this his deep breathing, a flush creeping up his neck and his eyes, possessive, only makes her want to close the distance between them. But she stands her ground. His eyes are still on her lips and she draws her bottom lip in between her teeth, biting softly before releasing, noticing his sharp intake of breath at her action. Her heart is thundering in her chest now, the sound drowning out the noise around them, the room around them disappearing and it is just the two of them, with his hand on her arm, his grip firm.

"Juggie?" she sighs his eyes snap to meet hers at the use of his name, her name for him, and he closes the distance between them. His hands bury themselves in her hair, bringing her closer to him, as he devours her mouth with his own. Her hands let go of the bottles as she hears them crash to the ground, as if they are in the distance, as she grasps at the lapels of his flannel shirt, her body aligning to his, feeling his warmth even with the multiple layers of clothing between them.

"I need you, Betts," he murmurs into her neck in between his open mouthed kisses against her skin. Her breath hitches at his words, the rawness of his voice stoking the fire that was already burning within her.

She braces herself with her hands against the kitchen counter as he continues to lay kisses along her neck before needing to return to her lips. She lets him claim her as his own.