The apprehension Betty felt at returning to school on Monday started to trickle away slowly the minute she left her house. Initially that morning, she had woken from a restless sleep, consumed alternately by thoughts of what her classmates would say about her, nightmares reliving terrible moments with Jason, and continuing heartbreak over Jughead. She had spent most of the weekend thinking about him, recollecting every moment together, missing his touch and grieving his absence. The gray paralysis she'd trapped herself in had gradually transformed to a melancholy shade of blue. But at least, she figured, she was finally letting herself feel something real. After showering in the morning, she covered the purple bags under her eyes with concealer and tightened her ponytail as tight as possible. It helped her feel slightly more grounded. She hadn't been able to eat breakfast, her stomach a knot of nerves, but when she opened her front door, she found Archie, Veronica and Kevin all waiting for her outside with large smiles.
"Shall we?" Veronica asked, and Betty smiled back, letting them lead her on the morning walk to Riverdale High.
Upon entering the hallways, she got a few stares, but with Kevin cracking jokes a mile a minute, she was too busy laughing to really pay attention to them. Veronica had already warned her that Jason had, in her words, made a fool of himself at the party at Reggie's house—getting super drunk, hitting on anything that moved, and slurring that he'd dumped that prude Betty Cooper. Her friends had vowed to stay around her like a protective bubble, their chit-chat and laughter constant, and so she ended up looking nothing like the tearful mess Jason had tried to paint her as at the party. As a result, the stares and whispers gradually receded throughout the morning. It seemed the masses were much less interested in the breakup upon seeing that Betty wasn't actually heartbroken and there would be no scenes of her begging to be taken back. It didn't even feel fake, despite her actual heartache over Jughead on constant slow burn in the back of her mind. She even felt something akin to relief at being able to walk and talk with her friends without worrying about what Jason would say to her later in private. It was almost liberating. She felt silly, in a way, for ever believing her social capital or comfort depended on someone like him.
She couldn't help but wait, however, for Jason to try something. She didn't think he'd physically try to hurt her again, although she was still fearful, but maybe to instigate his senior friends to shun her or call her names. She felt on guard at lunch and between classes the first few days. She definitely noticed his and Cheryl's lackeys shooting her glares or mocking her as she passed by. It was uncomfortable and definitely provoked her, but she was grateful most people at school weren't acting any differently to her. It could have been Veronica's truly frightening attack-dog glares to anyone who looked at her the wrong way, but she chose to believe it was because ultimately no one cared enough. The worst moment came after school on Monday at cheerleading practice when Cheryl not so subtly suggested she ought to be thrown off the squad. Veronica, however, shot that down right away.
"Cheryl, you're graduating in a few months. No one cares what you think," she'd proclaimed. The ginger bombshell had turned even redder than her hair, and the other girls on the squad tittered behind their hands.
After years of keeping any negative feelings toward or hurt from others under wraps, Betty was ready to unleash on Cheryl, but she knew it wasn't worth it. It was better to be smart. So she tugged on the pen necklace tucked under her yellow & white cheer practice outfit, and let her nerves settle. Smiling slyly and using a sickeningly sweet tone, she took over for Veronica. "Cheryl, if you have a personal problem with me, maybe we should solve it personally. I can't fathom how it should affect the squad or the other girls."
Her fellow cheerleaders were nodding in agreement as she spoke and Cheryl just glared, before muttering "Forget it," and continuing her choreography.
Veronica shot her a wink and Betty smiled back. She had to admit that aside from her friends, the pen necklace was continuing to serve as a magical charm keeping her feeling remotely sane and in control. She was still struggling with catching glimpses of Jason and his threatening scowls, forcing her to remember afresh all the awful things he'd said and done to her over their relationship. So maybe it was a crutch, but every time she touched the necklace, she could discern Jughead, could imagine him looking for the gift for her, thinking of her as the girl he wanted. As much as it hurt to contemplate him that way, and she could physically feel the shudder of pain shoot through her each time she did so, it also steeled her and made her feel she could get through the post-traumatic triggers. Maybe she was imagining it too, but she could sense Jughead's presence at school that week, never quite in her line of vision, but lingering in the corner of the hallway. It gave her torn heart hope that maybe he was watching her, still thinking of her.
However, that hope faltered at the Blue & Gold meeting on Thursday. She had been expectant before his arrival, longing for him to talk to her. To say anything. The silence between them now after he'd found her in such a vulnerable state last week and held her as she cried was even worse than in the weeks after he'd asked her to leave the trailer. But, instead, he acted completely neutral toward her. Neither warm nor cold. He looked at her when she spoke to him about anything paper-related and answered casually, but nothing more than that. It felt even worse than him being distant the week before, as if a thousand needles were pricking her skin all at once, because at least then she knew he was hurting too. Now it was as if he didn't know her or care at all.
"Hey, you okay?" Kevin asked, shooting her a sympathetic glance after the rest of the staff had left for the day.
"No," she answered honestly, a sad smile on her face. She felt like she was slowly dying inside without him and he was acting as if there were and never had been anything between them. She didn't understand it. Even if he wanted nothing to do with her from here on out, shouldn't he at least be sad or upset, or even angry with her? She felt she could handle that (and knew she deserved it). But not this neutrality.
"I know it's hard to be in the same room with him right now. It'll get easier."
Betty nodded and gave him a small half-smile. She really didn't think it would. There was too much unresolved. She was too in love with him. But she tried to be appreciative of the encouragement. "I think I'm just gonna get a vanilla milkshake at Pop's. I could use a pick-me-up, honestly."
Kevin smiled back. "I would come, but I have a ton of homework to catch up on before the weekend. You gonna be okay by yourself?" Her friends had steadfastly been by her side all week, making sure Jason couldn't get anywhere near her. It seemed to be working, so she understood his checking to see if she'd be alright now.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," she said, preferring to be alone right now anyway. She knew Kevin meant well, but he didn't really understand what she was going through. Although it was her own fault. She'd sort of led him to believe that she needed a break from boys and that was why she hadn't tried to talk to Jughead after breaking up with Jason. It had felt easier than revealing the truth—that she was still punishing herself in some way for letting her stupid cowardice and shame stop her from saying those three words back despite being completely and totally gone for him. And then there was the fear. What if she begged for him and he rejected her? Or what if he did forgive her and she just ended up disappointing him and hurting him again?
"Here, I'll give you a ride."
"Thanks," she said, grabbing her bag and switching off the lights, following him out the door.
The ride over was amiable with Kevin regaling her with stories of the backstage drama at rehearsals for that year's school play. Betty was able to momentarily disengage from her troubles and by the time they got to Pop's she was already feeling a little better and definitely craving that vanilla milkshake. Kevin dropped her at the entrance to the parking lot and she started walking to the front door of the diner, her mind blessedly blank. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw it—his motorcycle parked haphazardly near the overhead light advertising the diner. She'd never been on it, but she'd recognize it anywhere. She felt her breath stop and when she looked up, there he was. He was staring out the window of the back corner booth, lost in thought. She froze as if she'd been caught red-handed, afraid of making any movements. Her head was screaming at her to run before he could see her, but her heart was pounding fast in anticipation, unable to look away from him. His eyes suddenly met hers and she felt the blood drain from her body. His blue orbs were wide with exhaustion and broodiness, but he still looked so gorgeous. Her whole body shuddered as she felt him observing her, ablaze with a kaleidoscope of feelings—attraction, pain, sorrow, panic.
Unable to turn away from his gaze, she watched his eyes darken against the glass, his features settling into a grimace, almost as if daring her to approach him in such a state. It lit a fire inside her stomach, his challenge, and she started to walk trance-like toward the door of the diner. She opened it, barely hearing the bell ringing or Pop calling out "Hi Betty" as she passed. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they made their way to his table. When she finally approached, he was waiting for her, his fingers drumming against the linoleum, looking at her expectantly.
"Hey," she said, her voice just above a whisper.
"Hey," he responded, his voice coming out as a strangled rasp.
Standing just above the table, she noticed his laptop was open, a very obviously blank Word document filling the screen. She was used to seeing him typing rapturously between jumbles of words and paragraphs. It was more than a little unusual for him to be staring preoccupied at a plain white page.
"Can't write?" she heard herself asking, immediately wanting to hit herself for being what was probably intrusive.
"Not feeling so inspired lately," he muttered, not meeting her eye.
"Can I sit?" she asked, biting her lip, afraid he would say no and send her off.
Jughead shrugged and Betty took a seat opposite him in the booth, trying hard not to sigh in frustration at his standoffishness. She didn't expect him to make this easy for her—she knew she'd hurt him, badly—but he had been the one who'd caught her eyes outside and hadn't looked away. Hadn't he in some way wanted her to come in, to talk to him, to apologize?
"I broke up with Jason," she said slowly, almost as if it were a confession.
"I heard," he mumbled, still refusing to look her way, his eyes trained out the window. Unsure of what to say next, Betty sat silently, watching him. Jughead shifted in his seat and looked at her intensely for a brief moment, his voice impossibly soft as he said, "I'm glad."
Betty felt a flash of heat travel through her body when he finally looked at her and she shrugged off her coat to cool herself down. Almost immediately, though, she felt goosebumps. Jughead's gaze shifted to her neck and chest, taking in the necklace falling against her striped turtleneck sweater in shades of brown and caramel. Perhaps he hadn't noticed it at the meeting, Betty thought, considering he'd barely looked her way. He stared at it fixedly now, his fingers curling restlessly against the table.
"It looks beautiful on you," he murmured, his fingers lifting up from the table slightly as if he wanted to touch it, to touch her.
"Thank you," she whispered, her emerald eyes searching out his sapphire ones until he once again met her gaze.
His expression softened slightly, and he moved the computer aside to appraise her more intently. "Your present, Betts, it was perfect," he said. She smiled then, a single crystal tear collecting in her eye duct, not even caring he'd used the word she hated so much. She'd almost forgotten about the gift in the aftermath of everything that had happened. She'd bought him a vintage Underwood typewriter, she recalled, remembering the overwhelming exuberance she'd felt at finding one at the thrift shop in Greendale and knowing how much he loved them, and then the shame at lying to Veronica that it was a Christmas gift for her father. Still, her heart swelled that he'd liked it. Before she could respond, she noticed him opening and closing his mouth several times, debating his next words. "It was the best present I've ever received," he finally admitted in a hoarse murmur, staring down for a moment, before meeting her gaze, a raging fire of want and need swimming behind his eyes.
The flash of heat she had felt before coiled deeper within her, creating not only a warm rush to her bloodstream but a gentle pulse of arousal in her center. She blushed furiously and crossed her legs beneath her camel-colored skirt, hoping to alleviate the feverish sensation. There were so many words unspoken between them, so much hurt and confusion, but just his voice, soft with gratitude and expressing vulnerability, had her body wanting him to take her at his mercy and do whatever he wanted with her, even if he refused to speak to her after. Overheated, she pulled up the sleeves of her sweater, letting the air tickle the bare skin of her lower arm.
Jughead's passionate expression shifted as he noticed her left wrist, and Betty realized the bruise from when Jason had twisted her arm was still there, now an ugly shade of greenish yellow. He looked up at her, his eyes a mixture of concern and anger. "Did you do that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle.
"No…when I ended things…Jason…" her voice trailed off, unable to continue as she saw his reaction.
Jughead closed his eyes, his hand clenching into a fist. She watched him as he let out a breath and then unfurled his hand, stretching it out to release the tension. "I should have been there," he finally said, shaking his head.
"It's okay. Archie stopped him," she tried to assure him, but his eyes muddied and he kept shaking his head in disappointment at himself.
"I should have been there," he repeated fiercely. "I promised you I wouldn't let him hurt you," he added, eventually meeting her eye, his face guilt-stricken.
Betty shivered under his gaze. "I know, but you were there with me," she said, fingering the necklace, hoping he understood. He watched her movements carefully. "I'm fine, Jug. I swear," she added, letting her hands fall onto the table and her palms open. He stared once more at the mark on her wrist and then moved his gaze to the fading scars on her hands. They had slowly started to heal, a series of pale pink crescents. "I haven't since…you found me," she added, her voice nearly imperceptible. He nodded, swallowing, and his own hand slowly inched toward hers over the table. His eyes were trained downward on her skin, and she felt a shiver run through her as he gently lifted up her left hand, his thumb caressing the scars on her palm, before bringing his warm lips to softly kiss the inside of her bruised wrist. Jughead's lips lingered against her pulse point, and she instinctively let out a low moan, her mind filling up with a mess of wild desires—being kissed by him, touched by him, having him in the bathroom or even outside against the back of the building despite the cold.
Her moan, however, seemed to have the opposite effect on him, jolting him back to their dark reality. He released her hand as if he'd burned himself. She felt it fall limply on the table, as she looked at him, confused and desperate. But now he wouldn't meet her gaze, his eyes glazing over and his expression turning stony, distant. She could feel herself tense up in response, somehow managing to eke out a "What's wrong?"
"I can't do this with you again, Betty," he said, his voice sounding tortured and without much conviction. "I'm sorry…I…I have so much shit going on right now and I can't deal with this on top of that. Not unless you're ready to do this all the way and I don't think you are."
Betty frowned. "That's not fair," she said, her already broken heart cracking further.
"Isn't it?" Jughead said, his eyebrows raising. "Have you told any of your friends about me? About us? Have you told your parents?"
"I wasn't sure you'd want me to or to expose you to something when we weren't even talking, let alone together," she said looking down, her voice edgy. It was the truth, but she knew it probably wouldn't satisfy him. "Plus I told Kevin some."
"Kevin saw us," he dismissed, his eyes once again filled with disappointment, now, it seemed, at her. "Betty, I know you. I know there's a reason you haven't reached out to me since you broke up with him. It's been nearly a week," he stressed. "There's something holding you back. There always has been."
"It's not like you were talking to me either," she shot at him, surprised at the explicit anger and bitterness in her voice. She'd never spoken to him that way, and even if part of her knew it wasn't totally deserved, it felt so good just to release some of her negative feelings. For so long, when she'd disagreed with someone or felt challenged, she had just kept silent, but she didn't want to anymore. Especially not with him. Jughead seemed taken aback too, simply sitting there absorbing her half-shouts, as if he were being repeatedly punched in the stomach without fighting back. "You asked Kevin if I was alright and then you just disappeared," she charged. "I had no idea where you stood or where I stood with you." She closed her eyes, trying to calm her frustration, before opening them to stare into his wounded blue ones. She lowered her voice, but still rambled angrily. "I hate how everything happened and I know I let things go on with Jason too long. And I know I should have tried to talk to you earlier, because yes, I'm still scared. What if I disappoint you? What if the reaction to us is horrible? What if he tries to get revenge and does something to me, or you? What if I just end up ruining things with you?"
"Betty, I…"
"But I came in here when I saw you, Jughead," she said, steamrolling over him, willing him to hear her. "I could have walked away. I mean…shouldn't that count for something?"
"You're right…I'm sorry," he said, before falling silent, looking back and forth between her and the window, searching for the right words. It was as if they'd switched places from a few weeks before in his living room and he was now the one tongue-tied, unable to appease her or give her what she wanted. "I know you're trying your best…but maybe that's not enough," he finally said, his eyes blinking, unable to really look at her. "Maybe, I'm the one who's not ready," he admitted unsteadily, his voice barely above a whisper.
Betty's lips trembled and she could feel her eyes overflowing with tears. "I thought this was what you wanted," she cried, gesturing between the two of them. "I thought I was what you wanted," she added as an afterthought, her voice breaking.
Jughead's face contorted in heartbreak, but before he could answer, a chipper-looking Archie appeared, calling out "Hey man," before approaching closer to the table and stopping short at seeing both of their miserable faces. He hovered over the booth, looking between the two of them, seemingly trying to put the pieces together in his head. "What's up?" he asked, his voice elongating the syllables.
"Nothing," Betty said, trying to simultaneously wipe away her tears and struggle back into her coat. "I need to go."
"You don't have to," Archie said, glaring confusedly at Jughead's sullen expression and apparent refusal to say anything. "We're supposed to have dinner together," Archie continued, gesturing to the other teen. "You should join."
"No," Betty said quietly, but definitively. "I can't. I'll see you later."
She tore out of the diner without once looking back, feeling as if her body were about to splinter apart in pain. The tears were falling fast as soon as she made it out the door and she sprinted half of the way through the parking lot before nearly falling and crumplying against the asphalt. Her heart was thumping in ache and humiliation and confusion and she could barely process what was happening. As she attempted to lift herself, she heard someone calling her name. She turned and saw Archie jogging toward her, his face marked in bewilderment and worry.
"What's wrong? Why did you run away just now?" he asked, between catching his breath.
"Nothing. I'm fine," she lied, even though she knew both her red, tear-stained face and pinched voice were betraying her. "Go back inside," she added, trying to sound bright, but it came out cartoonishly high.
Archie frowned and darted his eyes over her, trying to read her. "What's going on with you and Jughead?" he asked.
Betty tried to mask her sigh. "Archie, it's really nothing," she said, shaking her head and not meeting his gaze.
"Wait," he said, his forehead muscle twitching as he remembered something. "Is he who you were talking about? When you told us you had started to have feelings for someone else. Were you talking about Jughead?"
"Come on, Archie," she tried to deflect.
The redhead wasn't having it though. It was almost as if he could see right through her. "They weren't just feelings, were they?" he asked, looking almost angry.
"I…" she started to say, but he interrupted her.
"Come on, Betty, please don't lie to me. I know I'm not the sharpest pencil in the shed or whatever the expression is, but relationships and hooking up I get. Something happened between you guys."
She lowered her eyes and muttered out the truth. "We were together."
His eyes widened as his mind absorbed the information she'd just relayed. He blinked and nodded a few times, trying to wrap his head around it. "How long?" he ultimately asked.
"For three months," she admitted, still looking down at the pavement.
"Jesus, Betty," he said, his voice skirting close to a disbelieving shout. "Please tell me you weren't just using him."
"Of course not, Archie," she nearly yelled. "I cared…care…about him."
"I'm sorry," he said, lowering his voice and speaking softly now. "I shouldn't have suggested that. I know you." He paused and collected his thoughts. "Listen, there's something you have to know. Jughead has been into you for a long time, I mean from back when we were kids. Do you remember third grade, before he moved to the Southside? He got caught playing with matches at school, and they almost suspended him. Until you said you were playing with them too."
She nodded, vaguely recalling something along those lines happening.
"He wouldn't shut up about you after that. How nice and pretty you were. I thought he'd gotten over his crush over the years, but he asked me at the beginning of the year about you too. Asked if it was serious with Jason. I thought he would drop it when I said yes, but I guess not…" Archie trailed off.
"What is it?" Betty asked, her voice soft against the night air.
"He wouldn't want me to tell you this, but I feel like you ought to know. A couple years after they moved, his mom got fed up with his dad's drinking and Serpents stuff and left. Took Jellybean, his sister, and just bailed. Left him with his alcoholic dad. Abandoned him, basically. He's never talked about it, but I know he's terrified of rejection because of it. Terrified of being abandoned again."
"That's awful," Betty said, imagining Jughead as a little boy left to fend for himself and with no one to protect him. Her stomach clenched, feeling a wave of sympathy for that boy who now had her heart, no matter how broken he'd just made it.
"Yeah," Archie said, kicking an imaginary piece of gravel against the ground. "I don't know what's going on with you two, but if you want to be with him, you have to really show him, you have to make him trust you, because otherwise he'll just short-circuit and run away. It's what he's always done."
As much as Betty wanted to run back inside and hug Jughead and tell him she was his and would do anything he wanted to prove it to him, she was still so hurt, so angry. He'd told her over and over for months that she was all he wanted, and now, when he could finally have her, he had just let her slip through his fingers like sand. She couldn't make herself take the steps necessary to go to him. Not after she'd already tried and crashed spectacularly. "I don't think there's anything else I can do, Archie," she said softly, dispiritedly.
"Betty…" he tried.
"Forget it, Arch," she said, hardening her voice so she almost believed it too. She turned away from him, turning back only to say, "Maybe it was all just a mistake."
