Chapter 21: Head
And you didn't mean to do it
So I don't have to believe it
If we didn't really mean it
Magical thinking gets us by
As it turns out, dating Jughead isn't really all that different from being friends with Jughead.
There isn't enough hand-holding to be significant. No make-out sessions in shadowed corners. No romantic feedings of green Jell-o during lunch hour.
Just like before, the day doesn't start off right without Jughead meeting her at the street corner (and if her mother starts the bad habit of watching her daughter meet with the "newly-realized boy of her dreams" through the thin gaps between the sheer curtains, then she's more than willing to ignore it.)
They never hold hands.
But, they bump arms more often than not as they walk side-by-side, and friends throw them meaningful glances in passing. Betty knows for a fact that Midge and Nancy like to giggle amongst themselves about how cute and mismatched they look (and this is something else that Betty is pretty good at ignoring . . . even if she does secretly agree).
There isn't any more practicing at the school track, but this doesn't take away any shared time between them. While Jughead isn't outwardly affectionate, it's obvious to Betty that he keeps an extra eye on her on their way back home, thanks to her wrapped ankle. Most week nights, he'll deviate from the norm and stay at her house to do homework or watch t.v. Her or her mom always whip him up an after-school snack before they make themselves comfortable in her room.
He always makes himself comfortable on the floor: back against her bed, while she sits at her desk: chair angled towards him. Sometimes, they'll chat about one subject or another while they finish assignments, and sometimes, they don't speak a word. After he leaves, Betty lays in bed and marvels at their comfortable silences. As far as she could recall, her moments with Archie were always filled with talk or loud background noise. Even when they were kissing, there was always something making noise somewhere.
Betty fears that she is getting used to Jughead too quickly.
She wonders if he is getting used to her just as quickly.
(Sometimes, during the darker morning hours, she wonders if he is getting tired of her. After all, he was known for his anti-female tendencies before they became a tentative item. This may explain why Veronica has been throwing her less-than-discreet looks of disapproval lately.)
So, Betty makes a point to enjoy every late-night phone call. Every touch. Every shy good-bye kiss on the corner of his lips.
Everything carefully logged in her journal, and locked in her bedside drawer.
The bedside drawer that Jughead was currently propped next to as he meticulously worked on a plate of her mother's enchilada's. His third helping if she was keeping count correctly.
It was Friday night, and the two of them were taking a break from homework and other school obligations by eating dinner in her room with the small t.v. set on a sitcom rerun.
Betty had stopped at one serving, and sat indian-style on her bed, her attention on Jughead's head, and wondering how he would react if she were to just randomly start running her fingers through his hair.
Wasn't that her right as his girlfriend?
She refrained from sighing as she crossed her arms and leaned against her headboard. For some reason, she didn't think that being Jughead's girlfriend was quite the same as being anyone else's boyfriend.
Jughead climbed to his feet, effectively regaining Betty's attention as he turned to look at her. "I'm going down to see if there are any leftovers for me to take care of. Need anything?"
Betty mustered up a smile. "Nope! I'm good."
He smiled. "Be right back."
Betty cheered herself up a bit by watching her boyfriend's jean-clad butt as he walked out. Once he was out of sight, she promptly slid herself down onto her bed until she could sufficiently roll over and burry her face into her pillow.
She wondered where all of her courage went. Just a week ago, she was completely pro-active about claiming all of Jughead's kisses and hugs. Now, she spent her moments overthinking everything: her head filled with negative scenarios for any possible overly-romantic actions on her part. And even though Jughead never turned away from her kisses or hugs or touches, she still feared, and the self-imposed turmoil was driving her to insanity.
Rolling to her side, she gazed at her bedside table and thought about her journal, locked within, and the happy moments it held for her.
And, she smiled a little.
"I know you said you didn't want anything," Jughead walked back into the room and into her view as he placed two glasses on her bedside table. "But, your mom just whipped up some sweet tea, so I figured we could indulge a bit."
Tucking her hands under her chin, Betty smiled up at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Juggie."
"Tired?"
Propping herself up on her elbow, Betty reached out and took a sip of her tea before laying back down. "Not really. Just getting comfortable."
"Ah."
Surprising Betty, Jughead dropped himself to the corner of her bed, taking a healthy drink of his tea before placing his glass next to hers. Instead of refocusing on the t.v., his torso angled towards her, his right arm thrown out to prop him up, and effectively caging her in the space between him and his arm. The intimacy wasn't lost on Betty, and she almost lost her breath in the wait to see just how far her unpredictable boyfriend was going to take this.
"No left-overs?" She breathed, trying to maintain some composure.
"Nah. Your dad beat me to it." His attention went to the loose ribbon on her cardigan as it fluttered under the ceiling fan. His free hand reached out and trapped the ribbon between his fingers, idly sliding the pad of his finger over the silk. "I think your dad fights me for dinner left-overs as a sort of alpha-male thing." His voice dropped a few octaves, in a humorous rendition of her father's. "Cooper house, my domain. Back off my spoils."
Overcome by giggles, Betty's laughter shook the bed beneath them, bringing Jughead's hip into contact with her stomach. Neither moved as she calmed down, her smile remaining and Jughead looking down at her with what could easily be interpreted as affection.
For a moment, Betty wondered what she was so worried about.
"Dad doesn't sound like that."
Jughead smirked. "You don't hear him like I do. After all, I am compromising his daughter's time."
Betty was caught off guard by Jughead's sudden flirtatious display, and she wondered if the novelty of Jughead being romantic would ever wear off. (She secretly hoped that she never got used to it.)
She figured that she owed it to him to play along. "Oh, yes. Compromising my time with yummy food and comic-reruns."
He arched an eyebrow. "Well, I do recall a few Tetris battles in my room."
"Which I have been winning." She interjected with a smile.
"By a small margin," he conceded with a smile before continuing. "Plus, there's the after-homework heavy petting. Late-night calls. And, random instances when I give you piggy-back rides if your ankle is giving you problems. Which I'm pretty sure you fake by the way."
Betty felt like her smile was going to split her face into two. "I'm just exercising my 'girlfriend rights.'"
"That so?" He slowly leaned down until their noses were barely three inches apart. His torso connected firmly with hers, and she reveled in the heat and solidity he generated (her mind momentarily veered off to a distant yesterday when she had snuggled against him in sleep, before returning to the decidedly interesting present.) "I guess I can accept that. I wouldn't deal with such manipulative moves from just any girl."
Betty's heart beat at a double time thanks to his proximity, and her hand itched to reach up and bring him closer.
Just a little closer.
"Jughead?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to kiss me?"
"I don't know. Do you want me to?"
Oh, yes. "Yes, please."
He smirked. "Betty Cooper? Reduced to begging?"
She growled. "I"ll show you begging, you jerk."
And, without any prompting, her hands flew up and threaded through his hair (finally), knocked the beanie off his head and brought him the last three inches.
His lips immediately opened against hers and she nearly moaned at the taste of Mexican spices, sweet tea, lemon, and pure Jughead. Her head took all of the sensations of him in, recording it all for future perusal.
Jughead's free hand released her ribbon and slid up between her breasts, along her neck, and gently cupped the back of her head. He slanted his mouth against hers, deepening the kiss as her fingertips increased the pressure along his spine and along his shoulders.
Betty didn't know when her eyes had fluttered shut, but she cracked them open as his lips slowly traveled down her jawline. In a momentary flash of clarity, her gaze refocused on the door to find it blessedly closed.
Her boyfriend was a freaking genius.
"You are ruining Mexican food for me," he breathed against her neck before returning to her lips. "It tastes so much better this way."
Archie's kisses never made her burn like this. That was her last rational thought before her arms wrapped around his neck and his wrapped around her back to pull her up to him.
His hands never slipped underneath her cardigan or tank top and she didn't tempt fate by ripping his t-shirt off. Instead, they made due with the exposed skin they could reach.
Jughead's fingertips traced the back of her neck and the sensitive skin behind her ears. Betty caressed his cheekbones, eyebrows, and the slight stubble on his chin.
When breathing became necessary, they broke apart and panted against each other. Foreheads touching, Betty's hands slid down his chest where she barely found purchase in his t-shirt. Jughead's hands made a slow caress down her arms before returning to the loose ribbon that had his attention before.
"Juggie?"
"Yeah, Sunshine?"
"I really like kissing you."
Pride flickered on his face as the corner of his lips (which were slightly swollen, thank you very much) tilted up. "Well, you have single-handedly changed my perception on kissing."
Laughing, she slid her hands back up his chest to lace her fingers behind his neck. "As long as you aren't kissing any other girls than me, I'll consider it all in a day's work."
His dark eyes opened, and the heat behind his gaze was enough to weaken her knees. "Oh, trust me, Betty. I can't see myself kissing anyone else, let alone my own mother in the near future."
Oh.
His fingers continued to play at the ribbon as he skimmed his lips along her jaw and up to her ear.
"M-my ribbon?"
His breath raised goose bumps along her neck. "It's the color of your eyes. I can't seem to keep my hands off it."
Oh.
Cupping his face, she brought his lips back to hers, their smiles touching before their kisses deepened.
(And later, when Betty was alone in bed and writing it all in her journal, she noticed that the ribbon was missing from her cardigan.
It brought a smile to her face.)
-/-
[Word Count: 1,896]