Thoughts kill you… Or so that's what I'm convinced as to. It's never usually healthy, the thoughts running around in your head. It eats you alive until you're obsessing about it. And trust me obsession is never healthy. Well sometimes, if it's a healthy obsession. Like with sports, except the aggression part, well actually scratch that. Maybe with video games, well it's good until it consumes your life and leaves you with no skills of social interaction. So maybe I've come to the terms that no obsession is healthy…
Jughead's obsession with trying to prove the evils of Riverdale was no different. I couldn't help but giggle thinking about it.
"I missed the silence," Jughead muttered not taking his eyes off the screen.
"I miss the food," I responded, sighing as I looked at the empty basket that I had wiped clean.
"You ate it all," Jughead replied his tone one of disbelief.
"Look, a growing girl needs her food!" I whined hunching over the table and slamming my hands on it.
"Growing girl?" Jughead scoffed throwing a glance my way.
"What's that suppose to mean?" I questioned, shoving my face closer to his causing him to lean away.
"Still don't know the meaning of personal space," Jughead mumbled. "What I mean is that I think you've done all your growing, Tristesse."
"Ouch. Could you be ruder?" I responded as I took my seat again, trying to ignore the way he didn't use my nickname.
"Oh, I can try, Tristesse Green Everdeen." I cringed at the mention of my name. He was trying to get under my skin, but two could play that game.
"And I can try and punch you in the face, Forsythe Pendleton Jones III," I responded, my eyes gleaming with a sense of pride as I recalled the last time Jughead sassed me. Jughead glared at me at the mention of his full name.
Jughead sighed knowing that he would get nowhere with me before replying, "Sorry, Tris. It's late, and I'm tired, but I need to finish the first page at least."
"How about I help you with it?"
"I don't want anyone to see it until it's done. And maybe not even then." He informed, as his eyes met mine.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"I'm gonna get more fries," I announced after a moment of silence. "Want anything?"
"If you're paying sure." He smirked from behind his screen.
"I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't going to pay." I retorted rolling my eyes. "For someone smart, you're kind of slow Jugs." I didn't wait for a response before I made my way to the counter.
"What would you two-night hawks like'?" Pop Tate smiled at me as I approached him. "The usual?"
I smiled shaking my head, "Just a milkshake and fries." Pop Tate gave me a knowing smile. "2 of each." I quickly informed, glaring at the charming old man.
"One day, Trist. One day." He replied all knowingly before whisking away into the kitchen. I shook my head; Jughead wasn't my type.
I looked over at Jughead, sure he was sarcastic, sassy, wise-cracking, intelligent, crafty, and armed with sardonic humor but that would give me a run for my money. And I evidently prided myself on being the funny one in a relationship.
"Staring won't help your case." Pop Tate exclaimed as he made his way towards the counter with my order.
"You know that's not the case." I replied raising my eyebrows causing him to raise one back in an 'Are you sure?' manner. "Jughead and I are friends. Just friends, best friends." I said, adding emphasis to friends as I grabbed the tray from Pop Tate before walking towards Jughead. I slammed the tray on the table and took a seat.
"What's wrong?" Jughead asked sighing and shutting his laptop knowing that he wouldn't be able to type around me. He grabbed his basket of fries and milkshake and scooted it closer to him.
"Pop Tate's thinks that you and I are a thing. I kept trying to tell him we weren't. But he insisted that we would be. Honestly, I think he's losing it." I muttered in distress, shaking my head in distaste.
"Just eat your fries," Jughead snapped. I quickly turned my head his way, shocked at the sudden outburst. "Sorry."
"You seem to be apologizing a lot lately. And getting angsty about the most stupidest things Jugs. Are you sure you're not PMSing? Our cycles could be linked up." I playfully proposed nudging his hand.
"Shut up."