The loud clattering of a plastic cafeteria tray onto the metal table he sat at made Jughead jump. But he barely looked up from his beat-up copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles.

The gothic mystery was his go-to novel to read whenever he felt stressed. And even though it was the last day of school, he was tense. The power had gone out at his place that morning, thanks to his deadbeat drunk of a dad once again forgetting to pay the electricity bill, which meant Jughead's last paycheck from running the projector at the Twilight Drive-In would have to go to cleaning up yet another of his father's messes, instead of fixing the broken "q" key on his clunky laptop's keyboard.

On top of that, his favorite teacher, Mr. Phillips, had just announced that he was transferring to teach English at a nearby private school, leaving the Red & Black without a faculty advisor, and likely spelling a swift and painful death for the student newspaper.

It was one of the few extracurriculars besides sports that Southside High offered, and his main hope of proving himself well-rounded enough for colleges to offer him an actual scholarship.

So much for getting the fuck out of Riverdale. Hell, out of Sunnyside Trailer Park even.

Before Jughead could resume wallowing in his book, his friend Sweet Pea sank down in one of the heavy metal chairs opposite him.

"It's hot as balls in here," he declared.

Jughead winced in agreement, in too much of a mood to make his usual quip about the school's abysmal lack of funding for basic necessities, like air conditioning that wasn't always on the fritz.

"And it's only going to get hotter," Toni remarked, sliding her tray over to the seat beside Jughead. "Thanks, gerontocratic politicians."

Jughead snickered. Toni was almost as sardonic as him, with a vocabulary to match. It formed a large basis of their sibling-like friendship, when she wasn't otherwise being a huge thorn in his side.

"Gerontocratic," Fangs sounded out slowly, claiming the table's fourth seat. "Is that some sort of dinosaur?"

"Close enough," Jughead muttered.

"I love dinosaurs," Fangs proclaimed. He tore open his milk carton and drank down an enthusiastic gulp.

"We all do, bud," Toni said, shaking her head in amusement.

Jughead zoned out as his friends' conversation continued. He glanced around the cafeteria with a grimace. God, the place was a dump. There was graffiti all over the cement-block walls, and the only source of ventilation was the open barred windows, filling the room with stale, stuffy air. No wonder he often felt like the walls were closing in on him during school hours.

"What's with you, Jones?" Sweet Pea asked, noticing Jughead's only half-empty tray.

Jughead sighed. Unfortunately, Sweet Pea seemed to have recently grasped that Jughead not inhaling his food within five minutes of sitting down to eat was a sign he was feeling even broodier than normal. I really ought to get better at hiding my tells, he berated himself.

"Usual FP bullshit," he grunted.

Luckily, Sweet Pea didn't press. At least that, Jughead thought. His friends had long ago seemed to accept that he would only share what was bothering him if he really needed to, which wasn't often. Even as a kid, he'd always preferred to keep his emotions close to the vest and work them out on his own.

"I know something that will make you feel better," Sweet Pea drawled.

Jughead eyed him skeptically. Whatever Sweet Pea was about to suggest, Jughead was sure he'd find it unimpressive.

"We should go to the Sweetwater swimming hole after school."

"Pass," Jughead said immediately.

Even under normal circumstances, he was not the biggest fan of getting wet. But add stripping down in front of half of the town's teenage population to the equation, and his aversion was complete. Not that he looked terrible in a bathing suit, Jughead knew. Enough girls around town seemed to appreciate his lanky frame and the moles spattering his pale skin to suggest otherwise. It was just that multiple layers of clothing for him represented a certain kind of protective armor. Why else keep a flannel wrapped around his waist, or wear a woolen crown beanie every goddamn day, even when the temperature outside cracked triple digits? Besides being a self-avowed weirdo.

Toni shot him a look. "Well, I'm down. There's very little in this town more amusing than squealing Northside girls in bikinis pretending to dislike getting chased around by their brawny jock boyfriends."

"That's the spirit," Sweet Pea said, giving her a high five. "You in, Fangs?"

Fangs swallowed a huge bite of his mystery meat. "Sure, got no plans."

"Have fun, ya'll." Jughead offered them a mock salute.

Undeterred by Jughead's sarcasm, Sweet Pea turned his gaze back to him. "Come on, man. Just once, get out of your own head." His expression grew more mischievous, and he sent Jughead a wink. "Think of all the cute girls that'll be there."

Jughead groaned. "Yes, because that's exactly what my life is missing," he quipped. "A cute girl to kiss away my problems."

"Maybe it is," Sweet Pea insisted. "God knows you've been in a funk since Jess, and that shit ended ages ago."

Three months actually, Jughead's brain automatically corrected, but who's counting? He suppressed a sigh. He was completely over his ex, but having her very publicly cheat on him with some wannabe motorcycle gang leader who thought body paint was a good look hadn't exactly enamored him to the fairer sex. Especially since Jess was still, unsolicitedly, blowing up his phone.

"Ugh, Jess," Fangs said, throwing his fork down. "She sucks."

"Thanks for the support, man," Jughead said, taking a bite into the unbruised side of his apple.

Toni snorted. "Did she text you today?"

"I haven't checked my phone," he mumbled.

Toni's eyebrows raised, and Jughead fished the device out of the front pocket of his jeans with an irritated eye roll. Sure enough, a message from her was waiting.

He moved to swipe open the phone, cursing under his breath as his finger grazed a part of the chipped screen.

"Dude, get it fixed already," Sweet Pea chided.

"I prefer to eat."

He tried to play the words off as a joke, but the sad truth was, between electronics that weren't cracked and keeping enough food stocked in his dad's trailer, he'd always prefer the latter. At least with summer on the horizon, he could take a bunch of busboy shifts at Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe, in addition to his usual gig at the Twilight. That meant both free leftovers and saving up some much-needed cash for next winter.

Jughead groaned when the text revealed itself to be yet another picture of Jess in a skimpy outfit. More specifically, cheap fishnet stockings he was sure she'd purchased from the seedy sex shop located in the back room of Blue Velvet Video. His ex was nothing if not predictable.

"Another selfie?" Sweet Pea asked.

He nodded miserably.

Toni caught a glimpse of his screen from the corner of her eye and sniggered. "Jughead Jones," she mocked. "Ladies man."

"Bite me," he retorted.

Sweet Pea scrambled over to their side of the table for a look at the picture, but Jughead quickly deleted the message and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Even if Jess was willing to embarrass herself by sexting a guy who had told her in no uncertain terms that they were done and to please stop sending him shit, that didn't mean he would humiliate her by showing the pictures around to his friends.

"You're no fun," Sweet Pea pouted, skulking back to his seat.

"Get your own obsessive ex," he countered.

"Come on, Jones," he goaded. "Don't tell me you don't miss her a little."

"Not even an iota."

If Jughead were to be blunt, which he was to a fault, their months-long relationship had been objectively terrible. Jess was older, already out of high school when they'd gotten together. That had initially been appealing, until he realized she had zero ambition beyond bartending and dancing at the Whyte Wyrm, the local Southside bar. Honestly, it seemed all Jess ever wanted to do was party. As opposed to Jughead, who, for obvious reasons, steadfastly avoided alcohol. Not that his self-enforced sobriety stopped her from pressuring him every other day to try maple mushrooms, claiming the high would get his creative juices flowing. He shuddered just contemplating it.

Jughead wasn't even sure what had kept them a couple so long, aside from proximity. He certainly hadn't been in love with her. The prevailing emotion he'd felt upon learning she'd cheated was indignation, not heartbreak. And as soon as that initial burst of anger had faded like an old bruise, Jughead found himself relieved it was over. He had no problem investing time and energy in a girl—the romantic in him relished the possibility, in fact—but he wanted it to be with someone worth it. And it didn't take much to realize that had never been Jess for him.

"You had some good times," Sweet Pea mused.

Jughead scoffed. "All we did was hook up."

"My kind of relationship," Fangs chuckled.

"We didn't hear you complaining then." Toni shot him a knowing glance.

"Sorry I'm a 17-year-old guy, Topaz, and not a monk," he sneered. "That doesn't mean I'm not self-aware."

"Fine, fine, don't get your panties in a twist."

Jughead smirked. She'd unknowingly thrown him a bone with that one-liner, and his grumpy mood lifted slightly. "Don't, for one minute, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties."

Toni burst out laughing. "You'll ruin your street cred by quoting romcoms like that."

"Hey, 10 Things is a classic of the genre," he defended. "Name a better late 90s/early 2000s Shakespeare-inspired teen movie. I'll wait."

"I would have taken you for an O fan with all your sulking," she ribbed back.

"Har har."

"Why do I even associate with you dorks?" Sweet Pea moaned, balling up the trash on his tray to dump.

"Who else would associate with you?" Fangs asked.

"Shut up, Fangs," he barked, shoving his shoulder playfully. "As for you, Jug, you're coming to Sweetwater. I don't care if you're in another one of your moods. It's officially summer, and I'm not going to let you spend it as a sad sack."

"Not that Jug won't try," Toni murmured pointedly.

Jughead sent her a withering glare, before turning to look back at Sweet Pea. A protest bubbled on his tongue, but it was met by Sweet Pea's steely-eyed gaze. Jughead rolled his eyes and glowered back at him, but Sweet Pea wouldn't budge. Jughead gritted his teeth, though he could already feel himself relenting. What else did he have to do besides brood some more about things out of his control? It wasn't like he could convince Mr. Phillips to quit his new job, or somehow scrounge up free cash totally legally in the next 24 hours. He may as well try to have some fun with his friends. The fresh air might even do him good.

"Fine," he said, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Whatever. But I'm bringing a book."

Sweet Pea didn't bother to hold back his groan. "Why should today be any different?"

"Here's good," Sweet Pea declared, throwing his backpack onto an uneven patch of dirt between several leafy, low-hanging trees.

The spot was semi-private, higher up on the small hill overlooking the riverbank, and out of the eyesight of most of the other teenagers scrambling to save places for their friends.

Jughead crouched down, unlacing his combat boots. He already regretted coming. The late-afternoon sun was broiling, and his feet hurt from having to trudge for half a mile through Fox Forest's rocky, unpaved trails.

As predicted, most of Riverdale's teens had the same idea as Sweet Pea and made their way to Sweetwater as soon as school let out. Dozens of cars were parked haphazardly along the backroad out of town that led to the swimming hole, effectively blocking it from traffic. Jughead and his friends had been forced to abandon their motorbikes against a swell of trees and navigate to the swimming hole on foot.

At least we didn't get lost, Jughead thought sourly.

He sank back on the soft dirt with a grunt, observing his surroundings. It had been a while since he'd last been here.

A shallow stream flowed under the old, rickety one-lane bridge, deepening as it spilled over the rocks that led to the swimming hole. The clear blue water shimmered, its gentle waves rippling in the breeze. Large stone boulders abutted the river, shaded by the brush and majestic maple trees of Fox Forest. A wooden sign stood amidst the rocks, its warning about no swimming after Labor Day long since faded. Colorful graffiti dotted the base of the bridge closest to the water's edge.

Jughead frowned. Leave it to a bunch of teenagers to ruin the natural beauty of the site. And, despite his cynicism, even he couldn't deny it was beautiful. Calming, too. Or it would have been were it not filled with raucous kids hollering and splashing in the water.

Most of them were Northsiders, but he recognized a few people from the Southside, too. He waved back at Ricky, a 13-year-old from Sunnyside who'd been pretty good friends with his little sister before his mom had whisked her away to Toledo, abandoning Jughead with his father.

The reminder of that less than fond adolescent memory left a bitter taste in his mouth and he was quiet as he watched his friends strip down to their bathing suits. Jughead hadn't bothered to bring one, consenting only to changing into light blue shorts and a black ribbed tank top. It was about as bare as he felt comfortable getting in public.

"Couldn't even bring swim trunks, could you?" Toni laughed at him.

"Sadly no," he deadpanned, pulling the paperback out of the back pocket of his shorts. "I don't have my beach body yet."

Toni opened her mouth with a retort, but Sweet Pea silenced her.

"Leave it alone, Topaz. At least we got him here."

She made a face, but said nothing.

"Let's get in the water," Fangs said, kicking off his shoes. "It's hot as hell."

"You coming, Jones?" Sweet Pea asked.

He tugged his beanie lower over his forehead. "Go ahead without me."

They scampered off, and Jughead settled back with his book. It had always been easy for him to disappear into reading. As soon as his eyes scanned the first few lines of text, he would slip into the beats of the story, the words enveloping him like a warm blanket. Even more so with a familiar old favorite. Soon enough, he was in Dartmoor, bound up in the midnight search for a demonic hound. He could hear the dog's distant howls, feel the thick fog in his lungs. He turned a page, totally engrossed, when, out of nowhere, a loud splash stirred him. He glanced up in annoyance.

But instead of whomever had just used the rope swing to boomerang into the water, his gaze fell on a blonde girl sitting lower down on the hill. Unlike the other Northside princesses, she wasn't parading around in her swimsuit, squealing obnoxiously every time a guy approached and threatened to toss her in the water, but was paging quietly through a book.

Out of habit, Jughead peered at the cover. He smiled to himself when he saw the title. The Clue in the Diary. One of the early Nancy Drew Mystery Stories. As a kid, he had collected the series to read to Jellybean before bed, purchasing one yellow hardcover a month at the local Goodwill with the few bucks he'd save up doing odd jobs around the trailer park.

A wave of nostalgia filled him again and he shook it away, his eyes lifting up to look closer at the girl.

Something seemed to shift in the air as he took in her silhouette, like a soft tinkle of music, barely audible, but whispering just for him. She's beautiful. He found himself gaping at her, unable to look away.

She was wearing a pink polka dot one-piece with a sweetheart neckline. It made her look like a 1950s pin-up girl, more specifically his favorite Hitchcock blonde, Kim Novak. Well, if Kim Novak had the most gorgeous, sparkling green eyes. Jughead swallowed, ogling the girl's long, smooth legs, then the swell of her cleavage. His brain felt a little like mush, but he was conscious enough to look away for a moment so as not to seem completely pervy. Almost instantly, though, his eyes traveled back to her. Her body was incredible, yes, but he was even more struck by how lovely she was, with her heart-shaped face, rosy cheeks, and pert mouth. He especially liked the cute little mole situated just under her lips, on the curve of her chin.

Jughead's book slipped unknowingly from his fingers, his legs bending up so his feet pressed flat against the ground. His elbow came to rest on his left knee, his hands clasping together over the other. He gazed at her, a dreamy expression forming on his face. He liked looking at her; it was hard not to. She had this soft glow about her, a joy that radiated as she read. He got a little thrill out of the way she bit her bottom lip when she focused on a specific sentence, her ponytail swishing against her shoulder blades as she skimmed the creamy white pages, her green irises bright and curious.

It occurred to him that he had seen her before around town, probably at Pop's, the only place on the Northside he ever ventured. Blonde hair and slender calves in a cheerleading skirt were hard for even him to ignore completely. The ultimate good-girl fantasy. But witnessing her now, immune to the noise and spectacle around them, Jughead was hit with unwavering certainty there was much more to this girl than he had previously imagined.

He blinked, and suddenly those wide green eyes were staring back at him. He felt no embarrassment, though. Her gaze was so open and expressive, it seemed to join him with her on the patch of grass below, as if he were right by her side, the two of them intimate acquaintances sharing secrets.

She bit her bottom lip again, this time less in concentration than nervous anticipation. He couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to take that lip between his teeth and nibble it. How she would taste. Something sweet, he mused. Like strawberry chapstick. He felt his eyes blaze darker, filling with excitement as she studied him back, curiosity and what he thought—okay, hoped—was interest in her gaze. As if he were some mystery she just had to solve. Her choice of book aside, and beyond the physical attraction brimming between them, he had an odd feeling of connection with her. As if she liked investigating clues and taking deep dives into obscure subjects just as much as he did. As if he were destined to find out.

A smirk crossed over his face at the possibility. She returned it with a smile, her cheeks flushing pink. It seemed inconceivable but she was somehow even prettier when she blushed.

Jughead's smirk widened, when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sweet Pea eavesdropping on two bikini-clad girls tanning by the water. He rolled his eyes at the other boy's antics, before glimpsing back toward the blonde. She snickered, apparently having observed the same thing. He grinned impishly, and she bit her lip again. Jughead had been scoping her out for maybe only five minutes, and already that gesture drove him wild.

His stomach rustled with lust, a flash of heat crawling down his spine. It seemed like it had gotten ten degrees hotter outside. He could feel his brow perspiring, exacerbated by the warm knit fabric of his beanie. He tried surreptitiously to wipe the sweat away, but she spotted him and giggled, her eyes bright and shiny.

Jughead's toes tingled, the hairs on his bare legs standing on end. He felt an insane urge to get up and walk over to her. He almost did, too, when she shot him a small smile and glanced back down at her book. He exhaled slowly and tried to resume reading, but every few lines, he became distracted by images of her and peered back in her direction. The girl seemed just as affected, because he could feel her gaze on him, too, sneaking peeks each time she turned a page. Their eyes locked, and he was sure the tips of his ears were as red as her flushed face. Fortunately, any hint of a blush was obscured by his trusty hat.

The third time they caught each other staring, she didn't look away. Her gaze was filled with expectation—not just for him to glimpse her way again, but to actually gather up the courage to talk to her. Jughead contemplated it, attributing his nerve to the trance-like state she'd bewitched him into. He was about to stand up when a sopping wet Sweet Pea barreled toward him, and Jughead had to shunt the book aside lest its yellowed pages immediately become waterlogged.

"Jones," he panted, water dripping down his legs. "There's a huge party tonight on the Northside. I heard the two hottest girls talking about it just now. We have to go."

"You mean crash," Jughead corrected.

"Pfft, they won't even notice."

Jughead's eyebrows raised. "The four of us infiltrating a preppy rich kid's party? I think they'll notice."

"Infiltrating," Sweet Pea repeated, plopping down next to him on the dirt. "You make it sound like we're at war."

"Aren't we?" Jughead reached for his book, rifling through the pages to find his place.

"It'll be fun," Sweet Pea cajoled. "There'll be food."

That was enticing, but not enough to convince him. He shook his head, his eyes attempting to focus on the words in front of him, anywhere but where they really wanted to wander. The last thing he needed was Sweet Pea following his gaze and needlessly torturing him with "I told you so's" about how a cute girl would make him feel better.

"I'm not in the mood to go to the Northside tonight."

Sweet Pea groaned, his voice turning pleading. "Jug, man, look how fine they are. Come on, I need a wingman. And Fangs is a doofus."

"What about Toni?"

"She has to work."

Jughead sighed. "Which ones?"

Sweet Pea pointed toward the redhead and brunette he'd been lurking near before. They were certainly pretty, but that wasn't what captured Jughead's attention. It was the girl they were now sitting and talking animatedly with. A blonde who seemed to have a nervous habit of biting her lower lip. Jughead's breath caught in his throat, and the girl's eyes once more fluttered up to meet his. She smiled prettily, two pink circles rising on her cheeks.

Jughead's heart raced. "Okay," he heard himself agreeing. "I'll come."