"Are you sure you're okay with keeping this secret for just a little longer?" Betty asks, propping her head up on Jughead's chest while his fingers dance across her bare back. "I know we've talked about it already, but Veronica was a bit intense today and... I don't want you to think that I'm ashamed of... us. That's so not the reason I don't want to tell her yet. But if this thing with her trying to make me hook up with other guys bothers you, we can just tell her and..."
Jughead presses a finger to her lips to stop her rambling with a smile on his face. He's been smiling a lot in the past two months, he realizes. And it's all thanks to the beautiful blonde in his arms.
"Betts, it's okay. We've talked about this. Veronica, as we know, gets overly invested. So for everyone's sanity, it's better if we don't tell her until she's busy with classes again and can't dedicate all her time to planning ridiculous double dates and stuff like that." He rolls his eyes dramatically, causing Betty to giggle and he feels her relax against him once again.
"And as much as I'd like to tell the world that the wonderful Betty Cooper took an interest in me, I understand why you want to keep things to ourselves for a bit longer, and I'm fine with that. I quite like our little bubble." He smiles and lifts his head to lightly brush his lips over Betty's and she sighs into the kiss.
After just one day it seems like it might be harder to keep this a secret than she initially thought. This. They haven't even discussed what this means. They've been friends for what feels like ages, even though, in reality, it's only really been two years. Things have, however, changed a lot in the past couple of weeks. They haven't just added sex to their friendship. They're not friends with benefits. It's so much more than that.
But are they dating? They've never specified. There's no need for labels when nobody else knows. But it makes Betty wonder whether that's just another reason why she wants things between her and Jughead to remain secret, maybe she's worried that putting a label on it and telling the world may ruin the amazing thing they've built between them.
"It's just so..." Betty tries to look for the proper word. "New. I don't want anyone's grubby hands tainting what we have."
"It's not new."
Jughead scrunches up his eyebrows. Is it new? His stomach still flips whenever he looks at her, but he also can't remember a time when he wasn't totally enamored with Betty Cooper, so it can't be that new.
"We were just friends," Betty protests, though she knows that the term "just friends" hardly applies when she'd been crushing on him for almost two years prior.
"Who flirted," he adds.
"Oh, were you flirting? I never noticed," she teases, and he gently pokes her in the ribs. She squirms, her laughter filling the space between them.
"You weren't exactly throwing yourself at me either, were you?" He raises his eyebrow at her. "Well, not until you were."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Betty shakes her head, burying her face in his chest to hide her blush.
2.5 months ago
"Hold the door!" Betty calls out as she rushes toward the elevator, the last little obstacle before she finally gets to her apartment.
She breathes a sigh of relief when the door opens at the last second and slumps against the nearest wall, trying not to think about how dirty it probably is. The humidity outside is making the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail curl at the ends and the sunflower-patterned dress sticks to her back with sweat. She feels gross, and suspects she smells even worse, if for no other reason than sharing the tiny space on the subway with a bunch of smelly people. But right now, she really doesn't care about her appearance.
"Thanks," she says.
"No problem." The familiar voice takes her out of her thoughts. So maybe she does care what she looks like. But it's too late now.
"Oh, hey, Jug." She flashes him a wide smile, hoping it's enough to distract from the mascara that is probably running down her cheeks by now. New York is most certainly not supposed to be this hot in the middle of June, so she didn't think it was worth investing into one that would be sweat proof.
"Betty," he says her name instead of greeting and the corners of his lips turn upwards slightly. "How's it going?"
"I'm alright. Busy," she answers with honesty. Thanks to her internship there isn't too much time left in her day. Well, perhaps just enough to feel lonely because both of her best friends left for the summer, chasing their own internships and career opportunities.
"New York Magazine, is it?" He doesn't know why he's pretending he isn't sure. Of course he knows it's New York Magazine. He helped Betty review her cover letter and hugged her when she got the job. But something inside him is telling him to play it cool. Whatever that means, he doesn't think it's acting like he doesn't care. "Are they already trying to recruit you as their editor-in-chief?"
Betty scoffs and shakes her head. "Hardly. I'll be glad if they let me write something more than their coffee orders by the end of this internship," she says, too exhausted to hide the bitterness in her voice.
He wants to laugh at her remark, but sees a hint of sadness in her eyes and decides to go with a bit of encouragement instead. "They don't know what they're missing out on."
She gives him a small smile, a simple thank you, making his stomach flip.
"Well what about your internship? Are they already dying to publish your book?"
"I wish." He lets out a low laugh. "So far all I get to do is go through manuscripts that have already been labeled as doomed. And I have to work on that in a group," he emphasizes the last word dramatically.
"Yikes." Betty scrunches up her face, and while she feels bad for Jughead, a tiny part of her is relieved that she's not the only one not making a breakthrough in her career.
"Do you need a hand?" he asks suddenly, his hand already reaching for the paper bag with groceries filled over the brim, cursing himself for not noticing Betty struggling to hold onto her shopping earlier.
"Thanks," she says in that soft voice that makes his heart skip a beat. He tries not to let it show and instead peers into the bag now in his arms.
"That's a lot of food," he comments, hoping Betty can't hear the embarrassing growl of his stomach. "Are you hosting a dinner party?"
"No." Betty laughs at the implication. If it was up to her mother, she would probably host fancy dinner parties at least once a month, with expensive wine and meals with French names that nobody can pronounce. But she didn't turn out the way her mother wanted. Instead, she's planning to make a simple dinner and spend the evening alone with only Netflix to keep her company. Or maybe...
"I'm not used to only cooking for myself, and with Veronica being away I end up with three days' worth of leftovers. Would you... Would you like to come over for dinner? To help me with it?" She asks, feeling a bit self-conscious.
It's not like they never spend time alone with each other. But with Veronica and Archie constantly around, they usually end up doing things as a group. Now that both of their best friends have left for the summer, it feels a bit strange to hang out without them.
"We have a working air conditioner," she adds, knowing full well that the air conditioning in Jughead and Archie's apartment has been broken since at least the day they moved in.
"You don't need to try to lure me in with a well maintained apartment, Betts." He grins at her. "I'd be happy to come. Should I bring dessert?"
"Given the fact that you once brought a half-eaten bag of chips as a snack for movie night, I'll say no." She returns his grin as a wave of relief washes over her.
"Okay, okay. I'll keep my half-eaten chocolate bar to myself then." He smirks just as the old elevator dings, announcing they've reached their floor. "What time?" he asks, waiting for Betty to unlock her front door before handing her the bag of groceries back.
"How does six sound?"
"Perfect." He nods in agreement, trying to act like he wouldn't agree to just about any time. "I'll try not to get stuck in traffic," he adds with a dorky grin that makes her giggle and takes the few steps towards the apartment opposite hers and pulls out his keys, not breaking the eye contact the whole time.
"I'll see you then." She smiles, and for the first time in two weeks, she's looking forward to her evening.
When he comes over later that day, it's with a tub of vanilla-strawberry ice cream.
"It didn't feel right to come empty handed. And I know it's your favorite," he says. When she smiles at him, he's glad to be wearing his well-trusted beanie to cover up his ears turning red. It's embarrassing just how much this simple gesture affects him, but he tries not to let it show.
The dinner goes by quickly as they both talk about their respective internships. Betty is treated more like an under-appreciated personal assistant than an aspiring journalist, but it's been barely two weeks, her optimism not wavering too much. Not yet, anyway.
Jughead doesn't complain too much about the job he's landed at Melville House Publishing. However, being grouped with a bunch of people who have no respect for personal space or his need for quiet during lunch will probably end in murder by the end of the summer. He's only half joking, but Betty starts apologizing for dragging him over when he probably just wanted to finally have some peace and quiet.
"It's different," he says but doesn't elaborate any further, his hand lightly brushing hers as he does so.
Despite Betty's protests, he ends up doing the dishes while they bicker about what movie to watch. There is something so utterly domestic about it, but neither of them wants to admit how much they like that feeling.
After twenty minutes, they can't agree on a movie, they end up watching two, each of them picking one. Jughead, of course, a Tarantino film, while Betty chooses The Devil Wears Prada, saying she feels like it resonates with her at the moment.
Somewhere in between, Betty invites him to dinner the following evening, which ends up turning into every evening for the next week. Before they even realize it, they fall into a routine of dinner and a movie, neither of them wanting to admit just how lonely they'd felt before.
It's day nine, and as all the previous days, at exactly six o'clock, there is a knock on Betty's door. She's grown accustomed to it, even excited if she lets herself admit that, but today the noise startles her. It surely can't be six yet, can it?
"Betts? Are you there?" Jughead asks from behind the door when it takes her longer than usually to get there.
"One second!" she calls back, quickly wiping any remaining tears from her cheeks and checking her face in her phone to make sure her mascara isn't smudged. She did end up investing in a waterproof one after all.
"Sorry, lost a track of time. Come in," Betty says with an unnaturally wide smile, ushering Jughead in and hoping he can't tell that there were tears streaming down her face mere minutes ago.
Jughead, however, can see right through her. "Are you okay? Did something happen?" he asks, the worry apparent in his voice.
"No. I mean, yes. It's nothing. I'm fine." She waves her hand, trying to appear nonchalant. She's been inviting Jughead over to have a good time and relax, the last thing she wants to do is to burden him with her problems.
"Betts..." Jughead's not one to pry. He values his privacy, probably more than most people, and while he doesn't want to assume that he really knows Betty, he dares to say he knows her enough. Enough to see that something is wrong, her ever-present sweet smile replaced by red rimmed eyes, her voice, instead of being filled with enthusiasm, wavering.
"You can tell me anything," he prompts, and after a second of hesitation, places his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.
"It's just... I had a terrible day at work. I got yelled and blamed for something I didn't do because, still, despite my best efforts, they don't let me do anything that is actually related to journalism," she explains with a sigh. "Then when I got home my mom called me, asking about the internship and when she'll be able to read anything I've written there. And when I told her that wouldn't happen anytime soon, she told me..." Betty's voice trembles and tears flood her eyes once again.
"She told me I wasn't trying hard enough and I should've just stayed in Riverdale and worked for the Register instead of wasting their money in New York." She can barely finish her sentence before her voice breaks and the tears that were only threatening to spill a few seconds ago are now freely running down her cheeks.
Jughead's first instinct is to wrap his arms around Betty and pull her against his chest in a desperate need to comfort her. At first she doesn't react, and just as he starts to worry about overstepping the boundaries, Betty snakes her arms around his waist and buries her face into his shirt, her body gently shaking with sobs.
He tightens his grip while bringing one of his hands to her back, rubbing slow circles, attempting to comfort her. He hadn't had many chances to meet Alice Cooper during his years living in Riverdale and decided not to make his opinion of her based purely on what he heard from other people. But now, seeing what one phone call from her did to Betty, he passed his judgment rather easily. Right now, he hates her. Eventually, Jughead feels Betty's breathing even out, and he loosens his grip on her slightly.
"I'm sorry, I'm overreacting," she says and pulls away a little, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "It's just that my mom..."
"Your mom is a bitch," Jughead finishes for her, eliciting a small chuckle from Betty.
While his general dislike for most people and tendency for over dramatization is well known among his friends, she's seldom heard him speak ill of anyone. Especially those who don't affect him directly.
"I know. But for some reason her opinion still gets to me." Betty lets out a frustrated sigh.
She thought that moving away from Riverdale, away from her mother, would mean that her opinions and expectations can no longer affect her. But as she's just found out, they seem to matter just the same.
"Which is understandable but... She's wrong this time. Soon someone will notice your talent and before you know it, all the magazines will be fighting over you."
"When did you become such an optimist?"
"I'm not. I just... I know that you can do it, Betts. Don't let anyone discourage you." He takes her hands into his, giving them a light squeeze. "Also... I know I usually don't show a lot of empathy, but you can always talk to me. Always. Don't let it build up, okay?"
Betty nods and he gives her the kind of smile that makes her heart flutter and wonders whether he ever smiles like that at anyone else. If so, she concludes, that person is very lucky. "Thank you, Juggie. I really needed this."
"That's why I'm here." He smirks, giving her hands one more squeeze before reluctantly letting go of them. "Well, that and the food."
"Oh my god! The dinner!" she exclaims in panic. "I was so distraught I lost a track of time and I didn't even get started on the food. I can make something if you just give me just half an hour. Or maybe we can order in? I'm sorry, I really..."
"Hey, it's okay." He places his hands on her arms, trying to stop her from freaking out. He feels bad enough for Betty inviting him over for free dinner every night and only accepts it because she says she loves cooking. But right now, she seems too distraught to do that and making her feel guilty about it is the last thing he wants. "You don't owe me anything. Actually, I owe you. So how about you just sit down, while I cook us something. Okay?"
"You're gonna cook?" Betty raises her eyebrows in surprise. It's not that she doesn't believe in his abilities. But the fact that he knows all the fast food and delivery places in the ten mile radius doesn't speak in his favor.
"I know what you're thinking. He's smart, funny, not too hard on the eyes, there is no way he can cook, too." He grins at her and a small laugh escapes her lips. "But I can, in fact, make some simple things. Especially if you tell me what to do. Maybe it can be like one of those cooking shows. You know, those ones where one person is cooking and totally clueless while the other is trying to navigate them but ends up getting mad and yelling at them."
"I don't think I've ever seen that, but it sounds more stressful than fun." Betty scrunches up her eyebrows.
"They probably only air it at like three in the morning, but trust me, it's fun." She doesn't ask why he watches TV at three in the morning, or why he finds it funny, but she'll take his word for it.
After inspecting the fridge and the cupboard for a few moments, Jughead decides to go for a simple chicken stir fry. While he does have some skills, he'd rather not make a fool out of himself in front of Betty. She's like a goddess when it comes to cooking, and just about anything else he's seen her do, so he knows his dinner won't compare to hers, but he has a desperate need to cheer her up and he's not sure where it's coming from. Or maybe he is. Betty's genuine happy smile is the best thing he's ever seen, and putting it there, especially when she's having a difficult day, would feel like the biggest accomplishment.
Betty sits on a bar stool that gives her a clear view of the kitchen and watches Jughead work, only giving him a few instructions here and there while he tells her about his day at work, going into great detail about his fellow intern who couldn't operate the printer to save his life, but still refused help, driving everyone crazy in the process. By the end of his story, she's in stitches, tears running down her face for a completely different reason.
Jughead's heart swells with pride when he sees her reaction and he grins, already trying to think of another story to tell her. He never wants that happy look to leave her face. As he gets lost in his thoughts for a moment, Jughead doesn't notice her joining him by the counter until he feels her hand on his.
"If you keep cutting at this pace, we won't eat until the morning," Betty says with a chuckle, taking the knife out of his hand and gently shoving him out of the way. While it's been a lot of fun to watch Jughead try to find his way around her kitchen, her stomach is starting to growl and he's made barely any progress.
"Well, excuse me, but my fingers are pretty important to me. I'd rather not lose any," he says in mock offense.
"Then I guess I need to teach you how to both cut fast and keep your fingers." Betty grins as she cuts the rest of the bell peppers that Jughead started, before moving on to the carrots.
"Are you offering me a cooking lesson?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"If you want," she replies with a shrug. "Cooking with someone is always more fun than doing it alone."
"I guess it can't hurt to learn from the best," he says, and Betty's cheeks grow pink.
"Let's get to it then."
"People don't want to believe me, but when I was little I looked a lot like Ross' son," Jughead announces out of nowhere, halfway through their third episode of Friends. It was Betty's decision to watch something lighthearted, and while Jughead made many suggestions about what to watch, in the end he let her choose the classic sitcom.
Betty narrows her eyes, her gaze quickly flicking between the screen and Jughead's face before she gives him a slight nod. "I believe that. But just because I still have the class photo from preschool somewhere."
"Oh, yeah, those were the days. You made me play Barbies with you while Archie was off eating sand or something," he says and they both laugh at the memory.
"I've never told you this, but I actually cried when I found out you weren't gonna go to school with us anymore and begged my mom and Archie's dad to transfer us to Southside Elementary."
"You… you did?" Suddenly, Jughead feels like there is something stuck in his throat.
Thanks to their dads, Jughead and Archie managed to remain friends despite living on opposite sides of town. His friendship with Betty, on the other hand, quickly faded away once they didn't get to see each other every day. The whole time he assumed that Betty forgot about him the moment the pre-school door closed behind them for the last time.
"Of course! You were such a good friend to me. And I… I wish I tried harder to maintain it." She casts her eyes down, feeling guilty.
Logically, she knows that it wasn't her fault her mother didn't let her go to Pop's without supervision until she was ten. She knows it wasn't her fault Alice told her that the Sweetwater Summer Camp that both Archie and Jughead attended every year was 'no place for young ladies like her.' She knows it wasn't her fault that her friendship with Jughead became nonexistent. It was her mother's efforts to keep her away from anyone who even associated themselves with the Southside. But still, she wishes she did more to keep Jughead in her life, wondering how different things would be.
"We were six. There wasn't much any of us could've done." Jughead nudges her with his elbow and Betty quickly tries to chase those thoughts away. She can't change the past, but she can do her best to enjoy the present.
"Well, thankfully, fate in the form of our ginger best friend brought us back together." Betty smiles and gives his hand a quick squeeze.
"Yeah," Jughead agrees with a small smile and they both grow quiet for a moment, their attention drawn back to the TV. "I still remember those cookies you used to bring like it was yesterday," he says all of a sudden.
"I did make them yesterday," Betty reminds him with a giggle.
"Oh, right. Well it only took some fifteen years for us to reunite. They're delicious."
"I bet you're happy about that," she says, and he replies with a smile. The cookies are not the only thing he likes having back in his life.
Before Jughead leaves that night, Betty gives him one more tight hug and "thank you."
"Anytime," he whispers, his face buried in her hair. He wonders whether he'll ever get a chance to hold her like this again and, assuming it's unlikely, tries to savor this moment.
When they pull away, she misses his touch. For someone who gives so few hugs, Jughead is excellent at it. His chest is somehow both firm and soft and the way he wraps his arms around her makes her feel safe and calm, much better than any of her doctor-prescribed medication.
They both have trouble falling asleep that night, and it's not because of the terribly humidity that makes the whole of New York feel sticky.
"Maybe you should give Archie some lessons. That boy can't even make a coffee without burning it," Jughead says as he cuts the tomatoes, his mouth already salivating at the thought of the finished meal.
As it turned out, Betty's offer to bestow some of her cooking skills on him wasn't just a one-time thing, and they've spent the last couple of evenings preparing dinner side by side while she gives him pointers and shares her best family recipes.
"Oh, trust me, I've tried." Betty laughs at the memory, though back then she didn't find it as hilarious.
"Before we left for college he asked me to teach him some basic recipes. He'd sprained his wrist and set my oven mitts on fire twice before I gave up. He's a lost cause."
"I thought Betty Cooper never gives up," he teases.
"Sometimes even I have to cut my losses," Betty says with a shrug as they continue to work on their respective tasks in silence.
"Oh, fuck!"
The silence is quickly interrupted as Jughead lets out a loud hiss when the knife slices through the skin of his finger.
"What happened?" Betty rushes to his side and grabs his hand to assess the situation.
Thankfully the cut doesn't seem to be deep, but bright red blood is gushing out of the wound. "It's gonna be fine. C'mere," she says and pulls him towards the sink, sticking his hand under the faucet and turning on the cold water.
"Just keep it there for a bit," she instructs, and starts rummaging through one of the kitchen cabinets until she finds a small first aid kid.
Jughead doesn't say anything, just silently curses himself. That's what you get for ogling your friend, he watches as the red tinted water goes down the drain, and by the time Betty is back by his side, his finger has stopped bleeding.
"Let me see," Betty says and takes his hand into hers once again, drying the wounded finger with a paper towel. "It seems pretty superficial, but I guess it's better if we put a band aid over it." Jughead doesn't protest and a moment later she's delicately wrapping a bright pink band aid over his cut.
"Thank you, Dr. Cooper. I'm certain your excellent care will assure my speedy recovery." He grins at her, ready to get back to cutting the tomatoes, but she keeps holding his hand in hers.
Without a word she brings Jughead's hand to her face and presses her lips to his wounded finger for the briefest moment. "That should speed up the healing process," she says in a low voice, her eyes cast down while Jughead stares at her wordlessly, trying to make sense of what she's just done and how to react to it.
When Betty looks up again she sees his icy blue eyes boring into her and a flush spreads across her cheeks. She's not sure why she's just done that. Maybe it's that glass of wine she drank while cooking getting to her head. After all, she's not much of a drinker. But she feels like alcohol is not the reason she feels intoxicated in Jughead's presence. She's about to get back to her previous task of mixing the salad dressing and pretend nothing weird happened, but as she pulls always Jughead grabs her wrist, stopping her.
She looks up at him questioningly, but he doesn't say anything. "What?" she asks in almost a whisper, her gaze moving from his eyes to his lips and quickly back up again.
She raises her eyebrow and Jughead seems to take a deep breath, as if to say something important, and then he's kissing her. For a second, she's too stunned to move, and he seems to hesitate at her lack of response. But then, just as he's about to pull away and apologize for his rash decision, she places her hand on the back of his neck, pulling his face closer to deepen the kiss.
When his lips touch hers, Jughead is the most nervous he's ever been, but at the same time, no kiss has ever felt this right. She pulls him closer and he presses his hands into her hips with newfound confidence, pushing her against the kitchen counter.
"I've wanted to do this for a long time," he whispers as if afraid to admit the feelings he's been carrying around for so long.
"Me too," Betty replies with her eyes still closed, worried that opening them will end the dream she's currently in.
It takes her a few seconds before she reluctantly does and the first thing she sees is the way Jughead is looking at her, with his cheeks flushed and the sweetest smile she's ever seen on his face. She thinks she may still be dreaming when her hands reach for his face, pulling him in for another kiss. If she is, at least she'll make the most of it.
Their lips barely connect again when the kitchen timer goes off, making them both jump and bump their noses in the process.
"Oww," Betty yelps, rubbing her nose.
"I'm so sorry, Betts. Are you okay?" Jughead asks, slightly alarmed that he's hurt her. He has imagined kissing Betty an embarrassing number of times, the pessimist in him including multiple scenarios where she rejects him, but not once did he think he may actually cause her harm. It didn't take too long to screw things up.
"Yeah." She nods and he pulls her hand away from her nose to examine it. Now is not the time for self-pity.
"Seems alright to me," he states after a moment. He's no doctor, but he managed to break someone's nose once and at least he can say that Betty's looks nothing like that, which puts him at ease a little. Maybe he didn't screw up that bad. "But I've heard there is a way of making things heal faster." He gives her a little grin and lightly presses his lips to the tip of her nose for the briefest moment, making her giggle.
"Feels better already." Betty smiles and wiggles her nose around experimentally. "All thanks to you, Dr. Jones," she mimics his earlier tone and he feels relief wash over him. They start inching towards each other again when Betty suddenly stop him. "The chicken will get dry if we keep it in the oven," she whispers.
"Right." Jughead pulls away from her with a nervous laugh. He wants to tell her he doesn't care about the chicken as long as he gets to kiss her again. Which, coming from him, shows how much he wants her more than any other words, but instead he just takes a step back, allowing her to access the oven.
"But..." Betty bites her lip and presses her hand against his chest. Her fingers curl in a little against the fabric of his shirt and all she wants to do is pull his lips back to hers. "To be continued."
It's not a question but he nods anyway.
After that evening, their routine changes slightly. They still meet every evening, cook and eat together, but they don't fight about the movie anymore. They know it will be forgotten less than midway through in favor of exploring each other.
Present
"Okay, maybe I threw myself at you a little. But technically, you kissed me first."
"The best decision I've made in a while." He grins and brings his lips to hers once again, rolling them over to continue the kisses down her neck and chest.
"I'm glad I pushed you towards it," she breathes. "We waited too long."
"Too damn long," Jughead mutters against her skin. They'd been dancing around each other and he wishes he had the courage to confess his attraction sooner, but now he's sure to make up for any lost time.
The heavy breaths and low moans are suddenly interrupted by a buzzing sound coming from the floor next to the bed where Jughead hastily discarded his pants, but they decide to ignore it.
"What is it?" Jughead groans in annoyance, separating himself from Betty when the buzzing comes again, reaching for his phone. Whoever is interrupting him during this moment better have a good reason. He unlocks his phone to see two messages from the same number.
Archie: Ronnie is coming to spend the night.
Archie: You may want to put earplugs in.
He sighs and shows the messages to Betty, just as another one comes in, causing her to giggle.
Archie: Do you think we have any whipped cream in the fridge?
"Seem like they'll be having a fun night." Betty chuckles.
"I was having a fun night," he lets out a frustrated grunt. "But I guess this my cue to go. Need to put in the earplugs and pop a few sleeping pills to be able to sleep through what is likely to be a very loud reunion between those two." He rolls his eyes, but instantly feels like a hypocrite. Archie and Veronica had been apart for three months, while he could barely stay away from Betty for one day without ravishing her at the first chance he got.
"Maybe you could... stay here," Betty suggests, biting her lip.
During the summer, he spent more nights in her bed than in his own, but after deciding to keep things a secret from their friends, they knew it would have to stop for the time being. It's only been one night so far and Betty already hates falling asleep without at least a part of him wrapped around her and then waking up to an empty bed in the morning.
"If Ronnie's not coming back tonight, they probably won't even notice you're not there and... we could have more time together."
"Aren't you worried they'll find out?" Jughead asks. He instantly feels like kicking himself. What the hell is wrong with him for even thinking about reasons not to stay?
"That's part of the fun, isn't it?" Betty shrugs. Her green eyes sparkle with mischief and Jughead knows that when she looks at him like that, he'd do anything.
"Well then..." he puts his phone on Betty's nightstand before turning back to her with a grin, "where did we leave off?"