Veronica needs to get drunk. That's the only reasonable, logical, sensible option here, she decides. An escape from her life is something she's craving right about now.

In New York, there would be a club on every block. So many opportunities to get yourself as tipsy as possible. It's the complete and absolute opposite in Riverdale. Any decent bars are either non-existent or off-limits, for various reasons.

Her only friend who isn't mad at her or doesn't entirely ignore her nowadays is Kevin, so she texts him.

HELP.

*gasp* Veronica Lodge NEVER asks for help, who ru imposter?

just a smol girl desperate for some alcohol. got any?

nah but reggie's place is always stocked

Aha. Reggie is the key to getting wasted. She should've known. He is basically the embodiment of beer. Even back in the innocuous days of freshman year, Reggie was always somehow present wherever the wildest, craziest parties were held.

Veronica texts Reggie: IM COMING OVER BRING OUT THE BEERS

He responds almost immediately: yesss summer party?

no just us plz?

Yea ofc. Parents on vacay so see u soon!

Walking up the steps to Reggie's modest, two story house, Veronica smooths out the material on her black crop top and has paired it with ripped denim shorts and 5-inch ankle strap heels.

Reggie opens the door before she knocks. "Wow, Veronica Lodge wearing jean shorts? What has New York done to you?"

She chuckles. "I'm dressing casual for summer, okay? Chill."

"I'm not very well informed in the area of fashion but I know that those heels are not casual."

"God, Reggie," Veronica teases playfully, swatting his arm. "Let me live my life."

"Sorry, sorry." He lets her step inside and hands her the brown beer bottle that was already in his hand, half empty.

"Dude, you started without me? How rude."

Reggie smirks. "Enough talk, just drink." She eyes him carefully, but lifts the bottle to her lips and lets the bitter liquid burn down her throat. She can already feel the alcohol swimming through her system, bringing her body and her mind to a different place, a better place.

Two hours later, she's undeniably wasted. And she feels fucking AMAZING.

She's in Reggie's living room, dancing to a soundtrack playing from his phone. Well, 'dancing' is a loose term. More like thrashing her head wildly from side to side and letting her limbs flail out in all directions. Her hair is a tangled mess and her heels are somewhere in his house and her shorts are giving her a big ass wedgie, but she's on top of the world.

"Girly, you're drunk as hell!" Reggie laughs. He reappears from the kitchen next to her writhing body, another beer bottle in his hand. But this time, he's shirtless.

Veronica stops dancing. Shit. He looks hot. Like, really hot. Even through blurry vision and a dazed mindset, she can see his sharp jawline, brawny shoulders, and well-defined abs.

"You look like Zac Efron." She blurts, walking up to him until they're only a foot apart. "But, you know, the Asian Zac Efron." He smells good, she notes. Like sweat, but a good kind of sweat. Like the 'I bench pressed a hundred pounds to stay in shape' kind of sweat. "That's a compliment, by the way."

"Uh… thanks?"

Veronica nods solemnly, as if that was a deep, meaningful exchange of words. "You have muscles. A lot of them." She pokes his stomach, pleased to find it rock-hard.

Then, she lifts her own top up over her head and throws it to the side, proceeding to poke her belly. It's relatively flat, but not firm like Reggie's. She is quite a sight, standing in front of a guy she hasn't seen in nearly two years with only a bra covering her chest.

"Woah woah woah there, sweetie." Reggie bends over to retrieve her shirt, forcing it into her hands. "Want to, uh, put that back on?"

Veronica looks at the top quizzically, as if she's seeing it for the first time. "No." She lets it drop to the floor, collapsing in a heap at her feet.

She's drunk out of her mind. So is he. What's the best possible thing to do when two people are drunk, alone, and half-naked? Make out.

It is truly disgusting. Lips are everywhere, tongues are everywhere, hands are everywhere. His fingers inch their way up her lower back to the clasp of her bra strap, his mouth now securely attached to her neck, sucking and biting. And she hates every second of it.

"Stop," she whispers. He didn't hear her. "No, stop," she said again. His hand gropes her breast.

"I don't want to!" He lets go of her, backing away from her trembling body.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't know, are you okay?"

"Yeah," She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah."

"I'm so sorry I didn't mean to hurt you or do anything to you are you sure you're fine?"

Veronica nods. "Yeah... yeah... I'm gonna go…" She grabs her phone, shoves it in her back pocket, and opens the door, slipping outside.

"Veronica! You're drunk you can't drive!"

"Neither can you! I can walk!"

"Are you insane!"

"Maybe!" Giggling, she shuts the door behind her with a satisfying click. Outside, a euphoric sense of freedom washes over her. It's only her. Just Veronica Lodge. Just Veronica in the middle of the world, alone but also content in her body. It's like she has the whole universe to herself. It's hers, it's all hers and she can do anything. She's free.

It's hardcore raining but Veronica doesn't even care. The cool water droplets run down her face and it cleanses her body and clears her mind. It flows down the pale skin on her stomach and soaks her shorts, streaming down her long, slender legs. She forgets everything else and lives in the moment, the moment of standing in the pouring rain at ten o'clock at night, the stars glistening above the trees. It might be the alcohol or it might just be her screwed up frame of mind, but it feels damn good.

She spreads her arms out and runs, her mouth open with laughter. She's energized and elated and so fucking thrilled to be alive.

Her feet take her somewhere, anywhere, she doesn't know, she doesn't care. She's floating, she's flying, no she's soaring above the earth and above the stars.

"What the hell are you talking about, Mantle?"

"Your girlfriend just ran out of my house, wasted as fuck!"

"Veronica?"

"Fuck yeah, who else could I be talking about?"

"She's not my girlfriend, idiot. Where is she?"

"I dunno, I would find her if I knew!"

"What happened? Why was she at your house?"

"It doesn't matter, Archie! She's fucking drunk and lost! Should I call the cops?"

"No! God no! It's okay, I'll go find her." Archie presses the end button on his phone before Reggie can say another word. The heavy rain from half an hour ago had died down, but it's still mildly sprinkling. Throwing on a jacket, he hastily slides the key into the ignition of his car and starts the engine.

It takes a while, but Archie isn't worried. He knows that Veronica is self-sufficient when sober and is fully capable of taking care of herself, although the alcohol might be messing with her decisions-making abilities. Plus she couldn't have strayed far in the past half hour. Athletics and running are not her strong suit.

Eventually, Archie pulls up alongside Sweetwater river and squints into the darkness, looking for a sign of Veronica's presence. He has a feeling, a deep intuition that she might be here. Parking and getting out of the car, he hurriedly shuffles through the dirt, his hood pulled over his head and hands stuffed into his coat pockets. He should have been more prepared, god damnit. An umbrella would be nice right now. And a flashlight. Yes, a flashlight would be profoundly helpful at a time like this. The sky is a dark shade of navy and the ghostly trees look like they are looming over him, threatening to swallow him up. The only light comes from the moon and the stars.

He doesn't call out her name. He doesn't want to disrupt the eeriness, or the peacefulness, whatever you choose. The continuous patter of rain drops plinking onto the leaves above sooths Archie. It's a rhythm that he can focus his mind on.

He doesn't have to go far. She's a shadowy figure, a silhouette. Cross-legged, back turned to him, facing the river.

He slowly walks over to her small curled up body and sits down next to her, bending his legs and resting his arms on his knees. He doesn't acknowledge the fact that she's topless and barefoot and wilting over like a dying flower.

They sit there, together, in silence. The rain is a blanket, a shield that protects them from the horrors of reality. Their little bubble of serenity. Maybe if they just stay there forever, they won't have to deal with everything else.

"Alcohol really fucks me up," Veronica mutters. Archie doesn't say anything but turns his head to look at her. Her head is down and her raven hair is covering her face, but he can still make out the curve of her nose and the red of her lips.

"Do you want my jacket?"

Veronica scoffs. "I'm not that cliché." But Archie takes his jacket off anyways and places it lightly on her shoulders.

She doesn't want to, but she inhales reflexively, taking in the smell of his coat. It's drenched from the rain so it doesn't provide her any warmth, but it's a wistful memory of the days in Riverdale High.

Veronica sighs and wipes a wet clump of hair out of her face. "I'm such a fucking mess." Archie doesn't say anything, impelling her to continue. "I know I sound angsty and overdramatic but it's like I can't do anything right. I fuck up everything I come near. Literally the whole world hates me."

"I don't hate you."

"Well you should."

"Well I don't." Veronica meets his eyes. They are just like she remembered. Soft, gentle, strikingly sweet.

Exhaustion hits her. She's weary and weak and worn out. When Archie's arm tentatively wraps around her waist and pulls her close, she leans her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. She buries her head into his neck, and he smells like comfort, like home.

"I missed you," Archie whispers into her hair. His warm breath tickles her forehead. The silence hangs in the air, thick and heavy. He wants to say something stupid and pointless to fill the gaping void, like last time in front of the burning fire in the Pembrooke. He wants to take back his words. He wants to throw them away and just have Veronica Lodge in his arms. He would do anything to get her back.

But before he could open his mouth, she murmurs, "I missed you too."