Betty's fingers skimmed over a rack of satin dresses, only half registering what Veronica was babbling about. All she could think about was the previous Friday night. And her evening with Jughead.

She wondered what he was doing now. If he were thinking of her, too. Betty shivered, her hand bracing against one of the wooden hangers. Maybe she should have just given him her number. She had felt confident in that moment on her porch, inviting him to embark on a game of "catch me if you can." But now, two days later, her nerves were getting to her. What if Jughead didn't come looking for her?

"B, what do you think of this one?"

Betty looked up from her daze to see Veronica holding up a houndstooth collared dress. "It's really cute, V, but isn't wool a little too hot for summer?"

"I could save it for autumn," Veronica mused. "The first day of school, maybe?"

Betty raised an eyebrow up. "Planning ahead?" she ribbed. "I might be rubbing off on you."

"It's never too early to think about pampering yourself," Veronica trilled back. She held the dress up to the boutique's three-panel mirror and appraised herself. "Do you think Archie will like it?"

"I think Archie will like taking it off you," Betty replied dryly. "If your recap of your Saturday ensconced together in the Pembrooke is anything to go on."

Veronica smirked into the mirror. "Nice to know you were paying attention, B." She tossed her hair back and shot a glance at Betty. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been lost in your own boy-induced delirium."

Betty's cheeks flamed. She lowered her gaze back to the dress in her hand.

Veronica's cat-like grin widened. She turned fully toward Betty. "Don't think you can play coy with me, Bettykins. Kevin already told me you ditched him for some boy Friday night. Care to share?"

The bell over Perky in Peach's door tinkled before Betty could answer and Cheryl flounced in with Josie and Midge in tow. They were carrying iced lattes from the Dark Room, the coffee shop next door in Riverdale's small downtown area.

"Betty, Veronica, started the shopping without us, I see," Cheryl droned.

"Excuse me." The salesgirl rushed over to them. "You can't drink that here."

Cheryl's golden brown eyes blazed with fire. "Do you know how much money the Blossom family drops at this establishment every year? Be gone, troll."

The salesgirl slunk back to the register. Betty frowned, mouthing "sorry" to her, as Josie and Midge tittered behind the jewelry display.

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Classy, Cheryl, insulting the help."

Cheryl flicked her hair behind her shoulder and sank gracefully into one of the plush mustard-yellow shell chairs by the dressing rooms. "What? She ought to know better."

Veronica huffed and turned back to examining herself in the mirror.

"So, what did we miss?" Josie asked, perching in the other armchair.

Veronica's eyes glittered with mischief. "Well—"

"We were just talking about Archie," Betty cut her off. She shot Veronica a look, her green eyes pleading. She wasn't sure she was ready to share the news of her night with Jughead just yet. It felt too intimate, like a secret between them she wanted to keep fossilized in amber for just a little while longer.

"Old news." Cheryl yawned and examined her nails. "Those two practically poured themselves out of Thornhill at dawn. I didn't know Ronnie could even look so wrecked."

"What can I say?" Veronica beamed. "Archie Andrews has a very talented mouth."

Cheryl groaned. "Isn't it enough you defiled my precious Jason's bedroom? Please don't share the gory details."

"I wouldn't mind hearing," Josie volunteered, winking at Veronica. "It's a shame I missed their dramatic reappearance."

"Me either," Midge piped up. "Moose took me home at midnight."

"Speaking of making an early exit." Cheryl's beady gaze fell on Betty. "Where exactly did you disappear to on Friday night, ponytail smurfette?"

Betty tried to hide her blush. Her fingers fiddled with the buttons of her denim overalls. "I left with Kevin."

Veronica let out an involuntary snort and Betty shot her a wide-eyed glare. "Sorry, B," she squeaked in apology.

Cheryl's eyes narrowed. "I sense mendacity."

Betty sighed. She might as well tell them. They were her friends, after all. And they'd drag it out of her eventually. "I met someone at the party. We spent the rest of the night together."

Midge and Veronica squealed while Cheryl and Josie exchanged gossipy looks.

"Until my curfew," Betty clarified, her voice firm. She didn't want them getting the wrong idea.

Veronica waved her hand as if to discharge this nuisance factoid. "Whatever. Did you at least kiss?"

Betty couldn't suppress her blush this time, her mind flittering back to their sweet embrace by Sweetwater River. It wasn't like with other guys. Not that she had a well of experience—a chaste peck with Archie during a game of seven minutes in heaven at Jason and Cheryl's homecoming party freshman year, a couple of ill-fated dates and make-outs with Trevor as a sophomore, and then, of course, Chuck—but still. Kissing Jughead was different. A dreamy smile crossed over her face. He wasn't overly handsy, and he didn't try to jam his tongue into her tonsils. Rather, his touch was delicate, his lips soft and enticing. It was almost as if he held back on purpose, so she would crave more of him. Betty's mouth pursed open, remembering the feel of his tongue against hers, warm and eager, the sugary taste of cola on his breath, and the tiny mewl he'd drawn from her throat.

She whimpered to herself, thinking of how Jughead had smirked at her after breaking their kiss, his eyes seeming to glisten in the moonlight.

"That's a yes," Veronica sing-songed, interrupting Betty's lavender haze. Her voice was gleeful.

Betty bit her lip but didn't bother to deny it.

"Tell us more," Midge cooed. "Where'd you go after the party?"

"He took me to this bar. The Whyte Wyrm, I think it's called. And then to a lookout point near Fox Forest." Pink circles returned to Betty's cheeks. "That's where we—"

"The Whyte Wyrm?" Cheryl cut in. "What a vile name for an establishment. Where is that?"

Betty shrugged. Her focus on the ride over had been entirely consumed by gripping tight onto Jughead, not where she was going.

The girls glanced between themselves trying to parse it out.

"Don't look at me," Veronica proclaimed. She lifted up another black-and-white dress to examine, this one with a scalloped halter. "I've only lived in this backwater town for two years. You're all Riverdale born and bred."

Josie's eyes went wide. "Wait. I think I've seen that name on the map of town businesses in my mom's office. Isn't it on the Southside?"

"You were at a bar on the Southside?" Midge squawked. "And you kissed a guy from there?"

A chill went through Betty at the way her friend's were now gawping at her. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "Yes. I guess so."

"Elizabeth Cooper, you little bad girl," Veronica teased. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Oh, god, don't encourage her, Veronica," Cheryl tutted.

"Come on, Cheryl," Betty said. Her fingernails curled into her palms as she tried to center herself. "Is it really that big of a deal if I do?"

Cheryl glanced at her with a mixture of pity and exasperation. "Trust me, Betty. You don't want the news you're frolicking about with a Southsider to get around. It would spread faster than a seizure epidemic."

Josie snickered. "Chuck would definitely freak."

Betty's eyes flashed, her voice pointed. "Well, I don't care what he thinks, or what he does. Or who."

Josie at least had the good sense to look embarrassed. She ducked her head down to take a long sip of her latte.

"Forget Chuck," Cheryl dismissed. "What about your reputation?"

Betty bit the inside of her cheek. "What about it?"

"Hooking up with a welfare baby is in no shape or form good for your image. Let alone dating him."

Betty frowned, her eyes darting toward Veronica for her opinion. "V?" she murmured.

"I don't know, B. I'm all for a steamy summer fling, but beyond that? Actual dating? With a Southside boy?" Veronica wrinkled her nose. "Don't they all live in hovels over there?"

"I heard they're drug fiends," Midge said, looking aghast.

"Jughead doesn't even drink," Betty defended.

"Jug-head," Cheryl sneered. "What kind of name is that? Is that his gang alias?"

Betty rolled her eyes, but decided to drop the subject. She didn't have the energy to argue with her friends when they were being so obnoxiously judgmental.

She fixed an even expression onto her face and resumed browsing the rack of clothes. "Well, I didn't give him my number, so who knows if I'll even see him again."

Cheryl hummed in approval. "It's better that way. Believe me."

Betty nodded, her polite smile not really reaching her eyes.

The conversation nagged at her for the rest of the afternoon, through the ride home. But as she waved goodbye to Veronica from her porch, she was flooded with the memory of standing there with Jughead two nights before. How he'd kissed her under the streetlight and grinned at her like he couldn't quite believe he'd gotten so lucky. The corners of Betty's lips curved up, her skin tingling. Screw it. It was summer and she liked him. Why shouldn't she have some fun? God knows she deserved it after Chuck and his insufferable cockiness. Betty pushed open the front door, shoving her friends' thoughts aside with it.

If it were meant to be, Jughead would find her like he'd promised.

Betty scooped up the last pages of the September 29, 1942, print edition of the Riverdale Register from the scanner. She placed the paper back in its plastic coating, and filed it with the rest of the archives.

She was spending the summer interning at her parents' newspaper, and the majority of her work was dedicated to digitizing the old editions. She'd already managed to get through nearly their first year of establishment.

Betty took out September 30, her head bopping along to the pop music playing in the background. She could hear the front door of the Register office opening in the distance, but she didn't think much of it. It was a little past five, and the last straggler of the office's tiny staff was probably heading out. Betty was just finishing up the September 1942 editions and then she planned to ride home with her dad.

"Betty," her father, Hal, called out suddenly. "Can you come here?"

Betty smoothed her hands over her high-waisted flare jeans and silenced the music on her phone. She strolled out from the archive room, hanging by the large file cabinet beside her father's desk. "What's up, Dad?"

"Did you order Pop's, honey?"

"No," she replied in confusion.

"Well, there's someone here claiming he has an order for you." Hal motioned to a boy with a beanie and a mischievous grin idling by the unused coat rack near the window.

Taken aback at first, a smile soon crept its way onto Betty's face. Jughead's grin widened in return.

"Hey Betts," he greeted her.

"Hi." Her stomach did a little flip-flop, her cheeks flushing at the nickname. No one had ever called her that before. "What are you doing here?"

"It's classic movie night at the Twilight. I thought I might take you out." Jughead looked toward her father. "If that's alright with you, Mr. Cooper."

Betty bit her lip, strangling a giggle at how formal Jughead sounded, all with that slightly sardonic smile.

Hal glanced over at her, appraising Betty's blush with a good-natured shake of his head.

"Is it okay, Dad?" she asked.

"Yes," Hal replied. "But those September editions aren't going to digitize themselves. Finish up first, okay?"

"Right, I'm almost done." Betty snuck a smile back at Jughead. "Can Jughead wait with me?"

Hal hummed, his eyes falling back down to the article draft he was marking up with a red ballpoint pen. "Just don't open that bag of food in there."

"Don't worry, Mr. Cooper," Jughead assured, "I'll be as neat as a pin."

Hal chuckled in pained amusement, and Betty pressed her lips together, struggling to suppress the laughter on the tip of her tongue.

"Come on," she said, tilting her head to the archive room. Jughead trailed after her obediently.

With the door secured behind them, Betty turned to stare up at him. Jughead's eyes shone softly down into hers, and she trembled, feeling a fresh wave of nerves now that they were alone.

"I can't believe you showed up here," she murmured, still in disbelief.

"I told you I'd track you down."

"Did you have to look hard?"

Jughead dropped the Pop's takeout bag on a vacant desk. He took a step closer to Betty, his hands folding behind his back. "No." He spoke quietly, forcing her to hold his gaze. "I think you wanted to be found. You left me a trail of breadcrumbs."

Betty's eyebrow quirked up. "Oh yeah, like what?"

"A girl named Betty. High-school cheerleader, expert editor. I caught your byline on the Blue & Gold website. Wasn't too hard to connect Cooper to the Riverdale Register from there."

Betty's lips curled up. "You are a good detective."

Jughead smirked back. "And a date?"

She stepped toward Jughead, tilting her chin up to him so it reached the height of his collarbone. She bit her lip, shooting him what she hoped was a coquettish smile. "I guess I'll find out, won't I."

Jughead sucked in a breath, his eyes burning into hers. A shiver ran down Betty's spine. Her hand gripped the wooden desk, her gaze falling to the last edition she had pulled out. She let out a faint sigh, glancing back up at Jughead with an apologetic frown. As much as she was dying to kiss him again, she really ought to finish her work first.

He nodded and stepped back. There was no denying the disappointed droop of his shoulders, but his eyes were warm when they met hers. "Go ahead," he told her. "I'll wait."

Jughead leaned back against the desk he'd dropped the food on as Betty resumed her task. She separated the pages one-by-one and scanned each of them. She checked the computer to make sure everything was in order, before slipping the edition back into its protective cover. As she stood up from the desk, she noticed his blue eyes on her. His arms were folded across his chest, a soft smile playing on his lips. Betty's insides melted. He was being so cute and patient that she felt an overwhelming desire to reward him. She filed the newspaper away and turned to look back at Jughead. His grin widened when her hips began to sway toward him, her movements slow but purposeful. She bracketed her legs around his knees, her fingers slipping under his hat to run through his hair. Jughead's eyes glittered into hers, daring her to make the first move. Betty's eyelids fluttered shut. Her lips brushed his. She was hesitant at first, as if reacclimating herself to the feel of him, but she soon sank into the sweet kiss. Jughead's arms threaded around her waist. His lips grew more insistent against hers, until he pulled her away with a groan.

"Hi," she whispered, panting slightly.

"Hey." He readjusted his beanie, pulling it lower over his brow. "Should we head out?"

"Sure."

They left the archive room keeping a safe distance between them, but Hal was still eyeing Jughead with a suspicious expression.

It didn't seem to faze Jughead, though. He smirked and offered Hal a respectful two-fingered salute. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Cooper."

Jughead strode toward the office's red storefront door and pulled it open, holding it for Betty.

"Bye, Dad," Betty said, trying hard to hide the blush that threatened to explode across her face.

"Have fun," he told her. "Curfew at 11."

Betty nodded her goodbye and stepped through the door, Jughead following after her. She scanned the curb, but saw no vehicles other than Jughead's motorcycle.

"Jug, where's your car?"

"Don't have one." He handed her his helmet.

Betty cradled the helmet in her hands. "How are we going to watch a drive-in movie without a car?"

Jughead grinned at her. "You'll see."

Betty's lips broke into a smile. She should have been concerned, but there was something to Jughead's suspense-building. It filled her with adrenaline. She loved how adventurous he made her feel.

He slung his leg over the bike. "Hop on."

Betty slipped on the helmet and sat behind him. She strung her arms around his middle and he sped off toward the Twilight.

Jughead didn't enter the drive-in's grassy field, instead cutting the engine on the pavement outside the barn-like building that housed the theater's ticket booth and refreshment stand.

He hopped off the bike and unlocked a side door she'd never noticed before. It was mostly dark inside, the room illuminated only by two white-bulbed industrial lamps. Betty's eyes adjusted to the harsh glare, realizing she was in the projection booth. The walls were decorated with a few movie posters, a cot resting against the far wall. Jughead sat down on it, propping the pillow against the wall and motioning for her to join him and recline against it. He pulled a small wooden table in front of them, moving the mug and film reel that rested on it to the desk with the rest of the projection equipment.

Jughead began to unpack the food. "So I brought two cheeseburgers and fries. A veggie burger, too, if, god forbid, you're a vegetarian." He shook his head in revulsion, but his lips curled up when Betty let out a small giggle. "I hope that's okay. I wasn't sure what you liked."

"That's fine. I'll take the cheeseburger."

"Great." Jughead slid a box to her side of the table, along with a helping of fries.

She opened the clasp, fingering the parchment paper wrapped around the burger. "What are you going to do with the veggie burger?"

"I'll eat it. It's not so bad when you're hungry."

Jughead's eyes flickered with humor, but she sensed an underlying broodiness in his tone that she wasn't really sure how to decipher.

"Two burgers won't be too much for you?" Betty asked.

He laughed and rubbed his stomach. "I'm a growing boy."

Betty giggled. "No milkshake, though, I see. That's a glaring omission. It's a Pop's staple."

"A milkshake to go? In this heat?" Jughead arched an eyebrow up at her. "How about popcorn and M&Ms from the refreshment stand instead?"

She laughed. "Very fancy."

They continued to eat and joke around for the next hour. At a quarter to eight, Jughead left to bring them snacks and then set about looking over the equipment and setting up the film reel.

"What are we watching?"

Jughead grinned over at her. "Rebel without a Cause. Have you seen it?"

Betty shook her head no.

"You're in for a treat."

She smiled and settled in the stool behind him, straining her eyes to see out the small window through which the projector beamed onto the screen.

The two-hour movie passed in what felt like no time at all. Jughead worked with practiced ease, but there were a few times she could swear she felt his blue eyes on her, a soft glow in them, and not just from the light of the projector streaming in.

Betty wiped a tear from her eye when the film ended, smiling shyly when Jughead chuckled softly at her.

"Poor Plato," she explained.

"Yeah. Sal Mineo is heartbreaking from start to finish."

Betty nodded in agreement. She stood up and moved back to the cot, giving Jughead space to take down the reels of the film's print and spool them back together. Her eyes caught on the movie posters hanging on the wall. She recognized the titles although she'd never seen them: The Black Scorpion and Forbidden Planet. He had eclectic taste. She liked that. Her eyes lowered, noticing an electric stove and kettle, as well as a small pile of worn paperbacks and an old radio on the wall indentation. Betty wondered how much time Jughead spent here. The booth had the familiarity of a bedroom more than a workstation.

Jughead glimpsed over at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Did you know all three lead actors met untimely deaths? Isn't that spooky?"

"I know about James Dean's accident and Natalie Wood drowning. What happened to Sal Mineo?"

"Stabbed to death in a mugging."

Betty peeked up at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "That's some dark trivia you're sharing, Jughead."

Jughead smirked. "Best first-date banter you've ever had, right?"

A grin formed on Betty's lips. "How long have you worked here?"

"Since the summer before freshman year. Three nights a week."

He came to sit beside her on the cot, and Betty scooted over to make room. "And you're the Twilight's only projectionist?"

Jughead looked at her with a curious expression. "What makes you say that?"

"The room feels like it's yours."

Jughead's eyes did a quick scan over the booth before returning to meet hers. "It does have my handprints all over it, doesn't it?"

"Little bit," she teased.

Jughead's lips curled up, contemplating. "I stay overnight sometimes. When I need quiet away from everything."

"Your parents don't mind?"

Jughead snorted. "I don't think my absentee mom who hasn't called in five years is too concerned about me. Or my deadbeat dad."

Betty stared at him, shocked. He stiffened a little, maybe put off by the pity he detected in her gaze. Betty jerked her head. Don't do that, she ordered herself. You don't feel sorry for him. You care about him. Hesitantly, she took one of Jughead's hands in hers. She began to trace her finger over his palm. She had no frame of reference for what he had just divulged to her, and she didn't want to say the wrong thing, but she could at least empathize with him like this.

The smile he offered her was strained but grateful. "What about your parents? Your dad seemed cool."

"We're close." She hunched her shoulders, her fingers dropping down to toy with the dual-color comforter. "They can be strict sometimes, though. My mom rides me pretty hard about doing well in school and presenting myself a certain way. Sometimes I think she expects me to be perfect, but I also know that's her way of showing she cares. Even if it can make me really anxious."

Jughead nodded in understanding, pressing his hand to hers. A small smile graced her lips. She appreciated that he didn't seem to be minimizing her for having normal teenage angst, even if her issues with her parents were nowhere near as weighty as those he seemed to be carrying.

"It's not the worst thing to have someone worry about you," he murmured.

"No, it's not."

Betty gnawed at her bottom lip, her thoughts wandering. Chuck had never paid her this much attention when they'd hung out, expressing little if any interest in the things on her mind. They were almost always in a group setting anyway, only ever really spending time together if it was to hook up. But with Jughead it was strange. She could be alone with him like this, or in the middle of a crowded party, and still feel the same intimacy and stillness. Everything else fell away. Her gaze lifted to his. Jughead's eyes were warm, but a bit of shadow hovered at the edges. A yearning. She felt it, too.

"This is nice," she told him. "Different from…him."

"Which part?" he asked quietly.

"Actually talking to each other. Listening."

"Ah." The toe of Jughead's boot scuffed the floor. "Yeah, it was like that with my ex, too. Kind of all just sex and nothing deeper."

"Oh." A chill went through Betty. She folded her arms around herself, her eyes casting downward.

Jughead seemed to pick up on her discomfort. "What's wrong?"

"I just…I haven't…if that's what you're looking for."

His blue eyes blazed darker. "It's not."

"Okay." Her voice was cautious.

"I'm serious." Jughead held her gaze. "We don't have to touch at all. Or even kiss. We can just talk for all of eternity."

Betty couldn't help but giggle at how sincere his pledge sounded. "Well, that would be a shame. I like kissing you."

Jughead grinned boyishly. "I like kissing you, too."

He glanced down at her then, his eyes asking a silent question. Betty nodded, almost imperceptibly. Jughead's hand slid up to her cheek. He gently drew her face to his. Their lips met in a simple kiss that quickly grew more heated. Betty's hand lifted to the underside of his jaw, her thumb stroking the faded bruise on his cheekbone. Jughead hissed. He parted her lips and slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth. Jughead's left hand found her waist, pressing her body against his and pulling her in closer. Betty's wedge platform sandals clattered to the floor. Her legs crossed with his.

Jughead broke the kiss and smiled at her before lowering his lips to her chin. He trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at the tender skin. Betty shuddered against him, heat pulsing between her thighs. He sucked a sweet spot into her skin and she gasped. "Jug." Betty groped for his head, pulling him back in for a needy kiss. Her leg curled over his lap, straddling him.

His hands traveled down her back, dipping under the hem of her white raglan t-shirt. Betty trembled when his fingers grazed her skin.

She slowed the kiss, resting her forehead against his. Jughead was breathing hard, still holding her in place against him. She gazed down at him, a glimmer in her eye.

"I have done some stuff, though." Betty grinded her hips against Jughead, blushing a rosy pink when she felt his cock twitch against her thigh.

His arms tightened around her waist. "Oh, yeah?" he breathed.

She reached for one of his hands and guided it to her breast. "Yes."

Jughead kneaded her breast lightly through her t-shirt, his thumb brushing over her nipple until it pebbled. Betty whimpered. She liked that he wasn't pawing at her the way Chuck had. His touch was much more gentle but still intent. He squeezed a little harder and her lower belly fluttered, aching for more. She leaned down to kiss him again, their lips connecting in a wet and hungry kiss.

They traded kisses, Jughead's hands falling once more to the hem of her t-shirt. His fingers danced over the silky skin of her lower back. Betty rubbed herself against him, desperate for friction. Jughead growled, his hands creeping higher up her back. He was fiddling with her bra clasp when her phone alarm sounded.

Betty broke away and sighed. She climbed off him reluctantly. "Sorry."

"S'okay." He grinned at her while he adjusted his jeans. "To be continued, right?"

Betty's lips curved up. She could hardly wait. "What are you doing Friday night?"

"Working," he groaned. "I have the late shift at Pop's."

"You work at Pop's, too?"

"Yep." Jughead straightened his beanie and stood up. "Finished a shift there just before picking you up."

"Jug." She reached out to caress his arm. "I think you may be overextending yourself."

"No rest for the wicked, Betts," he quipped. But his smirk didn't quite reach his eyes.

He started to collect their trash into the plastic take-out bag. Betty winced. She wanted to kick herself for not putting together right away that his family situation probably demanded he work two jobs. Stupid, Betty. She felt her heart pang. But an idea soon came to her of how to fix it.

"When does this late shift finish?" she asked.

Jughead sealed the bag and glanced back at her. "Midnight technically. Things usually wind down before though."

"You know," she murmured, padding closer to him. "I don't have to be home until one on the weekend."

A gleam rose in Jughead's eyes. "Meet me there? I'll make you that milkshake."

"Vanilla?"

Jughead pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. "Consider it a date."