A warm breeze danced over Betty's shoulders as she skipped from Pop's main entrance to its back exterior.

Jughead was waiting for her just like he'd signaled through the diner's large windows, a toothpick dangling from his lips. "Hey you."

"Hey yourself. Shouldn't you be working?"

Jughead grinned and plucked the toothpick from his teeth. "Shouldn't you be meeting your friends?"

Without waiting for her response, Jughead spun Betty by the waist and pressed her against the building's teal-painted wooden beams.

He smirked down at her and Betty felt her knees buckling. "I only have a few minutes," she warned.

"Plenty of time."

Jughead's lips dropped down to cover hers and Betty sank into the hungry kiss, not even bothered by the light stench emanating from the dumpster next to them.

After stealing several more kisses, Jughead's hand slid down from her waist to wind its way under the hem of her white ruffle trim tank top. He tugged the shirt out from where it was tucked into her high-waisted jeans. Betty squirmed as she felt his hand creeping up the silky skin of her stomach.

"Jug," she breathed, between kisses.

"Mmm?"

"I'm not wearing a—" She trailed off with a soft gasp when she felt his thumb brush her nipple.

"Fuck, Betts." He squeezed her breast gently and Betty moaned aloud. Jughead silenced her with another kiss. "You should wear shirts like this more often," he mumbled against her lips.

Betty mewled and Jughead kissed her harder, sliding his tongue inside her mouth.

"Jug," she panted when he eased his lips away. "I have to go."

He pinched her nipple softly and she felt a needy flutter between her thighs. "No, you don't."

Jughead began to nip at her jaw before kissing down her neck. His tongue licked over her pulse and a rush of heat flooded over her. Betty shuddered.

"I do…I'm supposed to, uh, meet…my…"

"They'll wait." He sucked on the tender spot where Betty's neck met her collarbone.

Her mind was a sticky haze as his lips nibbled over the sensitive skin. She and her friends had been supposed to go out for milkshakes two evenings before, but she'd had to postpone when Jughead invited her to a last-minute screening of An American Werewolf in London at the Bijou downtown. Which was followed by a frenzied makeout in the alleyway behind the theater before he took her home. We always seem to end up kissing clandestinely behind buildings, she thought with a giggle, which quickly morphed into a moan.

Jughead had bit down lightly on her collarbone and was soothing the sting with his tongue. Betty whimpered and arched her back into him. She ached for him to do it again, but if they weren't careful he'd leave a bruise that not even the cardigan she kept stashed in her mother's car would be able to cover up. Betty let out a breathy sigh. She needed to appeal to his sense of logic now, or else they'd never be able to drag themselves away.

"But you…also…have to go." Her body jerked as he sucked sweetly on her skin. "It doesn't take this long to take the trash out, Jug."

Jughead lifted his head to brush his mouth over hers. "I'll tell Pop the bag ripped."

"Juggie," she squealed, unable to stifle her laughter.

He groaned and pulled back with a smirk. "Fine. But kissing you for only five minutes a day is not nearly enough."

A rosy blush filled her cheeks. Jughead chuckled and adjusted his now crooked apron. He placed a quick final kiss to Betty's lips and slunk back inside.

Betty wandered lazily around the building to Pop's entrance, dawdling to admire the faint streaks of lavender painting the twilight sky. She shivered in the warm evening air. Kissing Jughead never failed to make her entire body tingle.

The bell tinkled as she ambled through the door. On impulse, her eyes sought out Jughead's. He shot her a wink from the counter and she felt her skin flushing all over again.

"Betty! Over here."

Betty startled and looked toward the booth where her friends had already congregated. Freshly served milkshakes were waiting on the table. Veronica waved at her. Betty smiled and walked toward them.

She settled in next to Veronica, trying to surreptitiously tuck her tank top back into her jeans.

A knowing grin spread over Veronica's face. "And where have you been, Bettykins?"

Betty glanced down at the formica table, a residual blush still on her cheeks. "Just running late," she fibbed.

"Is that why your 'pink perfection' is smudged?" Veronica teased.

"Super classy," Josie sneered in Betty's direction.

"As if you're one to talk." Veronica tossed her hair back with a scornful eye roll.

Josie raised an incredulous eyebrow. "And you're not?"

"I will have you know—"

"Oh, shut up, harlots." Cheryl looked up from examining her nails. "No one cares about your sexploits."

Veronica snorted in protest but Cheryl silenced her with a glower. Her amber-eyed gaze soon swooped in on Betty. An uneasy chill ran down Betty's spine.

"How magnanimous of you, dear Betty, to clear time from your busy schedule to meet us," Cheryl intoned.

"What are you talking about?" Betty's shoulders stiffened at Cheryl's deceptively sweet tone. "We hung out a few days ago."

The five of them had gone for brunch on Sunday at a fancy bistro in Greendale that Veronica insisted they check out. Betty's gag reflex still hadn't quite recovered from the horror stories Cheryl had regaled them with of her odious relatives' behavior at the Blossom banquet.

Cheryl waved off Betty's excuse with a flit of her hand. "Oh, please. Even you must admit you haven't been around much these last few weeks."

"It's true, Betty," Midge piped up. "I feel like we've barely seen you since school ended."

Josie took a long, showy sip from her chocolate shake. "I suppose milkshakes with the girls isn't as fun as getting your cookies tossed by a Southsider."

Betty suppressed the glare she longed to shoot at Josie and turned to face Veronica instead. "V?" she prodded quietly.

Veronica shifted uncomfortably in the banquette seat. "You are spending an awful lot of time with him, B."

Betty's fingers curled into fists under the table. She tried to keep her voice steady. "Jughead means a lot to me, V."

Her friends exchanged a few pitying, judgey glances, and Betty's throat tightened. Her nails dug deeper into her palms, breaking open the skin.

"Incredible." Josie snickered. "It hasn't even been a month and he's already filling her head with hot air."

Betty gritted her teeth. "My head feels fine."

"We just want you to be careful, B." Veronica's gaze was soft, her voice conciliatory. "It can be hard to know a guy's real intentions. Especially one you've only just met."

"Oh, don't beat around the well-trimmed bush, Veronica." Cheryl twirled a strand of glossy hair around her finger. "This hobo could scar Betty for life."

Midge perked up. "Like with a brand?"

"Ooh, has he branded you yet?" Cheryl shot a cruel smirk in Betty's direction. "I hear gang members do that."

"Stop it, Cheryl," Betty hissed. Her friends goggled at her in shock. Betty flushed and cast her eyes downward to the table. She couldn't remember the last time she'd lashed out at one of them, if ever.

"What?" Cheryl squeezed her milkshake's straw between her fingers and took a luxurious sip. "It's a valid question."

Betty frowned and forced her fingernails from her palms. "He's not the leader of an organ harvesting cult, okay?" She glanced between her friends, struggling to keep her tone even. "I know you think because he's from the Southside that he's some sort of criminal or gangbanger, but Jughead's not like that at all. If you just—"

Josie harrumphed, interrupting Betty. "See? Hot air."

All the girls but Veronica tittered and Betty jerked her head away to keep from snapping again. She peeked toward the diner counter. Jughead was handing a customer her change. His lips curved up at Betty when he noticed her wide green eyes on him. She tried to smile back, but her bottom lip wobbled.

Cheryl followed her gaze and scoffed. "It boggles the mind how you even find that street urchin attractive."

A lump welled in Betty's throat. Her nails jabbed back into her palms. The fresh crescent moon-shaped cuts buzzed when she pressed on them and Betty flinched. Luckily, the other girls seemed to read it as a shrug.

Veronica careened her head to assess Jughead. "He's objectively cute, if a little rough around the edges."

"Cute is charitable." Josie stirred her milkshake. "The hat is so bizarre."

"Does he ever take it off?" Midge asked Betty. "Like when you…you know."

"I like it." Betty's voice was small, tinny. It was hard to get the words out. "It suits him."

Her gaze flashed up once more to Jughead. He was frowning now, like he could tell something was amiss, even if he didn't have the whole story. Betty bit her lip. At least he's not hearing any of this.

Cheryl faked an exaggerated yawn. "You do realize your bad-boy rebound phase is a complete cliche, right?"

"Seriously," Josie muttered under her breath. "It's so trite."

Betty understood her friends had their reservations about her dating a Southside boy, but to hear Cheryl and Josie so cavalierly refer to her feelings for Jughead as some sort of joke or stereotype cut worse than any self-inflicted wound. Tears welled in Betty's eyes and she blinked them away before anyone could see.

Her lip quivered as she defended herself. "Our relationship isn't a storybook trope."

Betty could feel Veronica's concerned eyes on her, but she averted her gaze from the table, pretending to be very interested in the diner's square linoleum flooring.

"Of course it isn't," Veronica said smoothly. "Now, can we please move on?"

"Just one last thing." There was a nasty glimmer in Josie's brown eyes. "Has beanie boy gotten you addicted to jingle jangle yet?"

Cheryl sniggered. "I'm sure the extended Blossom clan would gladly foot the bill for a discreet facility if you should need it."

Betty flushed bright red, too flustered to respond. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, drawing blood.

"Unbelievable." Veronica scowled at the cackling pair. "Drop it, already."

Josie's eyes went wide with faux-innocence. "What? We're just joking. Betty knows that."

"Don't you, Betty?" Cheryl lilted.

Betty's stomach hurt too much to argue. She bobbed her head slowly. "Yes."

"See?" Josie said pointedly to Veronica. She turned back to Cheryl. "Oh my god, did you hear the latest about Ethel Muggs?"

Their chatter continued around her, but Betty was barely listening. Her eyes darted violently over the emptying milkshake glasses, her ears buzzing with static. She caught a few snatches of gossip. The usual fodder: mocking Ethel for her figure and chasing Dilton Doiley around. But Betty tuned most of it out. Nausea rose in her throat and she had to swallow it down. Her hand gripped the edge of the table. Her stomach was used to turning in on itself each time her friends badmouthed Jughead, but this was the worst of their onslaughts yet. She felt dizzy.

"B."

Betty nearly jumped out of her skin. Her glazed-over eyes met Veronica's.

"You okay?"

She shook herself alert. "Fine," she murmured.

"We're thinking of meeting the guys at Chuck's house." Veronica smiled winsomely at her. "Want to head over with me?"

Betty eyed her now melted milkshake. She'd hardly touched it. "No, thanks. I think I'll stay."

Veronica looked a little crushed. "You sure, B? It'll be fun. Please come."

Betty was almost persuaded to join by Veronica's coaxing, but Cheryl and Josie were already rising impatiently from the booth.

"Your funeral," Cheryl declared, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Come on, ladies. Let's go."

"See you later, Betty," Midge called, scampering after them.

Veronica offered Betty an apologetic frown as she scooted past her. "Another time, B?"

"Okay, V."

Betty slid closer to the window and stared outside. It was almost a relief to watch her friends drive away. But the conversation lingered with her. Their mocking words lodged in her head, twisting into knots. She tried to shake them away, but it was impossible. She rested her brow against the window pane, turning when she felt someone's gaze on her. She glanced toward the register. Jughead was watching her curiously, almost as if he had a sixth sense that she was upset. The corners of Betty's lips crooked up on instinct, but she doubted her grin looked very believable. She felt far too rattled for her usual gift of pasting on a cheerful, fake smile. Sighing, she pulled her phone from her pocket and texted Kevin.

Betty: SOS. I'm at Pop's. Are you busy?

He responded right away.

Kevin: I'll be there in 20.

Several minutes into waiting, Jughead walked over to clean away the dirty glasses. His blue eyes probed hers. "Are you okay, Betts? Do you need something?"

"No, I'm set, Juggie."

He studied her, balancing the tray against his hip. "I can take a break."

Betty shook her head. The diner was packed and she didn't want him to get in trouble on her account. "I'm fine. I promise." She affixed another tight smile to her face. This one she hoped would be enough to convince him.

Jughead didn't say anything, but a plate of warm, salted fries appeared on her table a few minutes later.

A tiny pulse of warmth spread through her chest. She searched for Jughead to mouth her thanks when she spotted Kevin walking through the door.

Kevin slid into the booth across from her and popped a few fries into his mouth. "So what's the big emergency?"

Speaking low and fast, Betty ran down the evening's lowlights. Anxious and out of breath by the end, she appraised Kevin. "What do you think?"

Kevin shifted in his seat. "Their cattiness aside, they do have a point, Betty."

"But Jughead's nothing like that," she protested. "You were there the night we met."

"It doesn't matter what he's actually like. Imagine word getting around school that you're dating him. The girl next door and the gang member. I can already hear the rumors."

Betty's eyes narrowed. "And you agree with them?"

"Well…"

Betty flushed angrily. "I don't know why I thought you'd be on my side about this. You know, I never once lectured you about your 'night jogging' in Fox Forest, which, for the record, is way more dangerous than me dating one boy from the Southside."

Kevin's hazel eyes widened. He snorted and grabbed another fry. "Wow, Cheryl and Josie really pissed you off, huh?"

Betty winced. "I'm sorry, Kev. That wasn't fair."

"It's fine." He fiddled with the napkin holder. "You're right."

Betty wrung her hands together. "So what do I do?"

Kevin's lips curved into a ball. "My best advice is not to broadcast the details of your relationship too much."

"That's it? Keep it quiet?"

"For the time being." Kevin's eyes filled with sympathy. "I know you've never really experienced this before, Bettyboop, but a lot of people get unhappy if you don't live or think exactly the way they do. Especially in a place like Riverdale."

"I know that. I just…I really like him, Kev."

Kevin nodded in understanding. "What others don't know won't hurt them, Betty."

Betty gnawed at her bottom lip. Even if she could keep Jughead an open secret for now, she wouldn't be able to hide him away forever. True, they'd never discussed labels, but why should she be forced to skulk around instead of proudly proclaiming him as her boyfriend? Being with Jughead wasn't anything to be ashamed of. And yet her entire world seemed to think it was. She sighed and folded her arms around herself. Her head felt like it was spinning from being pulled in two directions. No matter which way she leaned, she was bound to slip and fall.

Betty looked up from the copy of The Silence of the Lambs she'd borrowed from Jughead's bookshelf at the ping of her phone. She pulled the device from her pocket and opened the incoming text from Veronica. It was a selfie of her and Archie clinking red solo cups in Reggie's backyard, the rest of their friend group mingling by the pool in the background.

"Miss you, B!" the text under the picture read.

Betty smiled as she sent back a string of yellow heart emojis, but her throat felt tight. She hadn't hung out with her friends much these last few weeks, mostly because every time she did, the conversation would inevitably drift to bashing Jughead. It was easier just to avoid it.

She glanced behind her on the couch. Jughead was typing away on his laptop, completely in the zone with his writing. Betty's eyes crinkled softly. No need to bother him.

Betty settled back sideways against the floral cushions and tried to resume reading. After a few minutes, though, she found her focus wandering.

She and Jughead had been spending more and more time together lately. Hanging out at Pop's or the Twilight during his shifts, or lounging around at the trailer or her house on the rare nights he wasn't working. There were lots of book discussions and serial-killer documentary binges, especially since her parents made her keep her bedroom door open whenever he came over. But there was also a good bit of kissing and other things. A blush spread over her cheeks thinking about it. As much as she enjoyed her and Jughead's cozy, quiet time together, those delicious moments of privacy when they could take each other apart always left her breathless for more. She'd been pondering it a lot lately.

Betty pushed the book aside and mulled back over their evening. They had ordered pizza and eaten outside on the trailer steps with his friends. It was nice; they were mostly welcoming. Although the pink-haired girl—Toni, she reminded herself—had made a snarky comment about her ponytail at one point. Still, Betty couldn't tamp down the twinge in her stomach. Why couldn't she spend a casual night like this with her own friends? Even a double date with just Archie and Veronica seemed beyond the realm of possibility.

Jughead made a small, dissatisfied noise and Betty peeked over at him, her gaze softening. He was staring at the screen so intensely, his face a mask of concentration. She adored watching him like this, the room quiet but for the soft clack of keys. Jughead played at disaffected, and there was no denying that aspect of him, but he was so passionate, too. She loved that about him. Betty flushed thinking of the word. Stop it. It's too soon to feel like that. Isn't it?

Betty rubbed her eyes, which had started to water in the dim lamp light. She needed to distract herself before her obsessive thoughts spiraled.

She glanced once more toward Jughead. "How's the writing going?"

"Good," Jughead muttered. His blue eyes remained glued to the laptop screen.

Betty smoothed her hands over her jeans and turned cross-legged to face him. "What chapter are you working on?"

"Six." He cracked his knuckles and summarized, half to himself, in a distracted mumble. "Jake and Ellie go to the group home Paula's parents sent her away to to get more intel about Jack."

Jughead had started to show Betty early drafts of his first chapters. The novel's premise was a gritty, small-town mystery revolving around the murder of a golden boy from the westside who was secretly caught up in the town's drug trade as a way to save money to skip town with his pregnant girlfriend. A boy from the lower-class eastside starts investigating when his father is implicated in the killing, complicated by his budding relationship with the pregnant girlfriend's younger sister. Betty liked how ambitious it sounded, especially the way Jughead planned to blend mystery with class commentary and a smattering of romance.

"Hmm, Jake, whose name you refuse to admit you copied from The Sun Also Rises?"

Jughead shot her an unamused glance and Betty laughed. She was certain she was right. He liked to pretend classic American literature wasn't hipstery or cool enough for his dark sensibilities, but she knew he secretly loved Hemingway.

Betty poked his waist. "Did you decide who the murderer is yet?"

Jughead sighed in mock irritation, but his lips were turned up in a grin at her. They both knew it was a losing battle now. He was never able to focus properly when she started to pepper him with questions, or, better yet, kisses.

"You'll have to wait and see," he told her.

Betty pouted. "But I'm impatient."

"Maybe if you stopped distracting me you'd be getting more chapters to read." He flicked her knee. "And more frequently."

"I thought you liked it when I told you to hit save and kiss me."

Jughead pushed the laptop aside to the end table and raked his eyes over her. "I do." He gave Betty a pointed look, daring her to do something.

She bit her bottom lip to hide her mischievous smile and scooted closer, pulling him in by his hair and kissing him. Jughead's arms instantly slotted around her waist, propelling her forward until she was laying on top of him and their legs were intertwined. He kissed her so thoroughly she could barely breathe.

Betty nuzzled her nose against his when their soft, eager kisses slowed. "Don't forget about borrowing Sweet Pea's helmet later," she murmured.

Jughead chuckled lightly. His fingers lifted from stroking her back to toying with the silky strap of her camisole. "That's what you're thinking about during our moment?" he teased.

Betty flushed and ducked her face into his shoulder, giggling against the soft cotton fabric of his t-shirt. "Well, it's late, and you have to take me home soon."

Jughead snickered with a humorous shake of his head. "On the subject."

He propped Betty back upright and sat up, too, so they were facing each other.

"What's up, Juggie?"

Jughead ran a hand through his dark hair. His beanie seemed to have shaken loose during their kissing and fallen somewhere out of sight. He looked less confident without it.

"My dad's going away next Friday." Jughead's finger traced along the gap between the couch cushions. "He makes this two-day trip with some other Serpents every August to look at motorcycle parts in Seaside."

"Okay."

"Do you want to come over for dinner that night?" He paused for a moment, before rushing the next part out. "And maybe sleep over?"

"Oh," Betty squeaked.

The trailer felt very hot all of a sudden. Betty could practically feel her heartbeat in her ears. Spending the night with Jughead? Of course she'd imagined it. But always as some hazy possibility. A distant fantasy of being older and not having to worry about parental supervision. Now, though, the prospect was real, beckoning her. A burst of soft pink light over the horizon. Anticipation fluttered in her stomach.

Jughead's Adam apple bobbed nervously. He seemed to misread her reticence as hesitation. "Sorry, I guess it's a stupid idea. Your parents probably wouldn't agree anyway."

Betty chewed on her bottom lip. "I can tell them I'm staying over at Veronica's, or Kevin's."

Jughead brightened. "Oh. Great." Almost immediately, though, he seemed nervous again. He cleared his throat several times.

His gaze on her was intent when he spoke again. "I really do mean just to sleep." He played with the cuff of the flannel shirt he'd left draped over the side of the couch. "I'm not expecting anything." His voice dropped to a rasp. "You know that's not what I think this is."

He sounded so earnest that Betty melted. "I know, Juggie," she assured him. "A night alone together sounds nice."

"Okay." He beamed at her.

Betty smiled back sweetly, her heart racing in her chest. It was almost as if Jughead could hear its wild beating because he nudged closer to her. The wordless energy between them hummed in her veins and her fingers lifted to stroke the length of his cheek. Jughead held her hand still to meet his gaze. He brushed his lips once over hers. She whimpered, and Jughead kissed her again, tenderly, running his thumb along her jawline and then into her hair. Anticipation heated beneath her skin, and Betty's last coherent thought before the sparks engulfed her was maybe Jughead's lack of expectations be damned. Maybe she was ready for more. For everything.