Jughead flopped down on one of the bare wooden steps that led up to his trailer. He grimaced as it creaked under his weight.

"You sure you don't want one?" Sweet Pea called. He held up the six-pack of canned beer he'd brought.

"I have a trailer full," Jughead responded dryly.

Fangs snorted and looked at the empty bottles of alcohol littering the stairs next to Jughead. "If FP didn't drink them all."

Sweet Pea elbowed him in the side. "Don't be an asshole, Fogarty."

Jughead sighed and rested his head against the railing.

He had come home from his Thursday-night shift at the Twilight to find his friends camped outside his house. They had corralled some white plastic chairs from the collection of junk his father kept forgetting to take to the town dump and seated themselves by the wooden trellis underpinning the trailer.

Although Jughead had been fully prepared to pour himself a piping hot mug of coffee and write into the wee hours of the night at his kitchen table, Sweet Pea had insisted on them all hanging out. And it was hard to summon the energy to refuse his pleas after another exhausting day of back-to-back shifts at Pop's and then the drive-in. Plus, technically, there would be time to work on his novel in the morning. His next shift at Pop's wasn't until four in the afternoon.

And then he would see Betty.

Jughead smiled to himself, thinking about her. They had been messaging regularly for the last few days, chatting about books and true-crime documentaries mostly, but also engaging in some undeniable flirting. His favorite exchange so far had been when he'd teasingly asked her what the best part of their movie date was and she'd responded, "All of it ?." Jughead could feel a fizz of warmth exploding over his skin just picturing Betty's blush when she'd written that text.

He could hardly wait to see her again. To kiss her again. His stomach did a little flip, the corners of his lips ticking up.

Toni glanced over at him, a suspicious glint in her eye. "What's got you so smiley, Jones?"

"The pleasure of your company, Topaz," he deadpanned.

Toni frowned and sipped from her beer. "Do you get off on being evasive or something?"

Jughead sniggered and began to rummage through his messenger bag for the salt and vinegar chips he'd filched from the Twilight's refreshment stand earlier that evening. He swallowed down a handful. "Speaking of my dad, is he inside?"

"Passed out on the couch," Sweet Pea relayed. "Tall Boy brought him home from the Wyrm."

"Huh," Jughead cracked. "Early night for him."

His friends snickered around him. He chuckled with them, but his lips soon dipped down, his eyes rising to the moon hovering over the grove of pine trees in the distance. Outwardly, he made light of nights like these, using his sarcasm as battle-worn armor. But beneath the surface, FP's love for the bottle was still an open wound, even after so many years of low expectations. Too often, Jughead found himself wondering what it would be like not to worry about his family's supposed breadwinner showing up to enough construction gigs to cover their monthly bills, or to wake up and greet a father who wasn't blacked out on the sofa next to a puddle of his own saliva most mornings.

To silence his thoughts, Jughead grabbed the remaining chips and gobbled them down in a hurry. He wiped his greasy fingers on his jeans, half-listening to Toni's rant about the horrible new waitress at the Wyrm.

His phone pinged moments later and he lifted it from his pocket, grateful for the distraction. A slow grin spread across his face when he saw the notification from Betty. They'd been texting just before he left the drive-in to confirm their plans for tomorrow, but she had also gotten in the habit of sending him a good-night message around 11:30 every night. As a certified night owl, he found it adorable how punctual she was about when she went to bed.

Betty: Night, Jug. I can't wait to see you tomorrow :)

Jughead's grin broadened as he typed out his response.

Jughead: Me either :)

He was still gazing at his screen when Sweet Pea coughed, loudly.

"Who are you texting, man?"

Jughead peered up to meet his friends' curious faces. "No one."

"Wait." An impish expression lit up on Sweet Pea's face. He exchanged a look with Fangs. "Is that blondie?"

Jughead slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Don't worry about it."

"Who's blondie?" Toni asked.

"No one—"

"This little northside cutie Jug met at the party on Friday night," Sweet Pea cut him off.

"Please don't call her that," Jughead groaned. "It makes her sound like a cupcake."

"So it is her." Sweet Pea smirked knowingly at him.

Jughead gritted his teeth. "Yes."

"Knew it." Sweet Pea and Fangs high-fived.

"Must have been some night together." Fangs wagged his eyebrows at Jughead.

Toni's brown eyes widened. "You spent the night with her?"

"Ditched us and her preppy-ass friend at the Wyrm," Sweet Pea replied for him. He glanced toward Jughead. "Where did you two lovebirds run off to, anyway?"

Jughead's jaw clenched. "None of your business."

"Did you get a room at the Shady Palm Motel and pretend it was prom night?" Fangs ribbed him.

"No, man, she's high class," Sweet Pea joked. "Probably splurged on the Five Seasons."

Toni shook her head. "You guys are disgusting."

Sweet Pea guffawed. "We're just messing around. "

Jughead scowled at Sweet Pea, his lips pressing together in a straight line. "It's not about that with her."

The laughter on Sweet Pea's tongue died when he saw the dead seriousness in Jughead's eyes. He held his palms up, his face conciliatory. "Sorry, Jug, I was only kidding."

"Hilarious," Jughead grumbled. He crumpled the bag of chips into a ball, his throat thrumming in agitation.

Sweet Pea chuckled and came to sit on the steps beside him. "I didn't realize you were in love," he teased. He nudged Jughead in the shoulder.

"It's cool if you are," Fangs chimed in. He winked at Jughead. "Love is love, man."

Jughead rolled his eyes but offered them an indulgent grunt. His friends were idiots about girls, but he knew they meant well enough.

Toni, however, seemed less impressed. She squinted at him, a judgmental look crossing over her eyes. "A northside girl? Really? Sounds like a recipe for disaster."

Jughead folded his arms over his chest. "Yeah? You're an expert on relationships now, too?"

"Oh, please, Jug." Toni waved her beer in the air. "A high-maintenance girl like that won't stick around for long."

"Because you know her," he sneered.

Toni scoffed and Jughead had to bite his tongue to keep from reaming her out. He didn't appreciate Toni's suspicions, although he grudgingly understood them. She probably assumed the only reason a Northside girl would hook up with someone like him was to get her jollies and piss off her uptight parents. But Jughead was sure that wasn't the case with Betty. She liked him for him, not because she was trying to playact some "bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks" fantasy. He could sense it. Nothing between them felt fake or manufactured. Certainly not the caring look in her eyes when he'd alluded to his mother deserting him, or the soothing way her fingers had traced over his palm. If anything, the rush of emotions between them was stronger than he'd ever experienced for a girl before. Like a cascading waterfall he could drown in.

He sighed aloud. "Betty's not like that, Toni."

Toni raised a disbelieving eyebrow up at him. She glimpsed toward Sweet Pea for backup.

"I don't know, Ton." Sweet Pea shrugged. "She didn't act stuck-up or like she was too good for the Wyrm or something like that. Maybe she's different."

Jughead's eyes narrowed. "She is," he insisted.

"She seemed sweet to me," Fangs threw out.

Jughead's lips turned up at that. If only they knew.

Betty was sweet. Kind and wholesome like warm apple pie and a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. But she had a spicy side, too. He liked how smart and quick-witted she was. That she could go toe-to-toe in bantering with him, teasingly calling him out for his eccentricities but never put off by them. She was nervy and impulsive, too. What other girl would so willingly get on the back of the motorcycle of a guy she'd just met? After watching her ex punch him out at a party? Only Betty, he thought with an affectionate grin. God, he really couldn't wait to see her tomorrow.

Toni snorted and Jughead glanced up a little woozily. She was staring at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Oh man, you really have been bitten by the love bug, haven't you?"

Jughead thought about protesting, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. He was smitten. So he kept quiet, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

The rest of them laughed.

Fangs tipped his can of beer toward Jughead and downed a swig. "Happens to the best of us, man."

Jughead stretched his arms out and yawned. He flipped his paperback copy of In Cold Blood page down onto the white formica countertop and rubbed his bleary eyes. It was getting late. Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe was dead except for a half-asleep trucker slumped over the table in his booth. Virtually all Jughead had done in the last hour was re-fill his cup of coffee for the third time.

He yawned again and tried to concentrate on the book. But it proved difficult. His eyes felt bloodshot from the overhead fluorescent lighting, and he was tired from the long week. His gaze fell on the tray of donuts resting atop the cake stand on the countertop. Don't, he told himself, they're probably stale. He skimmed the same sentence for a second time. On the other hand, a sugar boost might do you good. His fingers inched toward the glass topper.

The bell tinkled and the diner's red and glass door swung open, stopping him.

His eyes lifted up to meet Betty's. A smile immediately broke over his face.

She was wearing a soft-looking yellow cotton t-shirt and tight burgundy shorts, giving him a glorious view of her long, shapely legs. His gaze traveled up their length as she strolled toward the register.

Betty's smile when she reached him was so adoring, her green eyes glistening brightly, that Jughead immediately felt a fresh rush of energy.

His lips curled up into a smirk. "Betty Cooper, you are a sight for sore eyes."

A rosy pink blush spread across her cheeks and he felt a desperate need to kiss her right away.

"Come here." He motioned for her and she slipped through the opening that led behind the counter.

Betty's arms folded behind her back and she leaned in toward him. Jughead angled his body to her, his index finger tilting her chin up to meet his lips in a soft kiss.

"Hey," he murmured, his mouth a breath from hers.

"Hi there." Betty pulled back and touched her lips with a little grin. "Feels like you missed me."

A low chuckle sounded in Jughead's throat. "Three days is too long."

Betty's eyes twinkled. She tilted her head, catching sight of the overturned paperback on the counter. "What are you reading?"

He stepped past her to hold up the book's cover.

Her eyebrows rose. "Nice. The senseless small-town murder of a respectable all-American family." She glanced toward the truck driver now sprawled out and snoring on the booth's cherry-red leather banquette. "Exactly what I'd want to read nearing midnight when alone in a brightly lit diner that creepy truckers like to stop at."

Jughead snorted. His mouth dropped to whisper in her ear. "It helps me stay alert to thieves in the night."

Betty shook her head, laughter in her eyes. "I'll bet."

"Come on." The corners of Jughead's eyes crinkled up. "I'll get you that milkshake."

Betty settled into one of the red-cushioned metal stools, resting her elbows on the countertop. Jughead could feel her eyes on him as he worked the machine.

"See something you like?" he joked.

"I don't know," she teased. "That's quite the ensemble you have on."

The tips of Jughead's ears blazed red. He'd completely forgotten he was dressed in his Pop's uniform, which consisted of a long white apron, a starched short-sleeve button-down shirt, and a maroon bow tie. Hardly the pinnacle of sexiness. Not that he really thought she minded how he was dressed. It certainly didn't deter her from wanting to be kissed, Jughead reminded himself smugly. His upper lip quirked up.

He turned back toward Betty, expertly pouring the vanilla mixture from the machine's stainless steel malt cup into a milkshake glass. "You making fun of my uniform, Betts?"

"Maybe a little."

Jughead smirked and placed the glass in front of her. She started to bring the red-and-white paper straw close to her lips, when he plucked the cherry off the top of the milkshake and popped it into his mouth.

"Hey!" she protested.

"You deserve it." He dragged his hand down slowly and dropped the stem onto the counter before her. "Mocking a man for just trying to do his job."

Betty giggled. "If I mention how cute you look, will you forgive me?"

"I'm not sure." Jughead cocked his head to the side, pretending to consider. "That's a big ask."

She batted her eyelashes at him. "You look really cute."

He hunched down to lean closer to her over the countertop. "So do you."

Betty bit down on her bottom lip. She looked like she wanted to flirt some more, or possibly take her turn at kissing him, when her phone began to ping incessantly.

She pulled it out of her pocket and stared at the screen. Her brow furrowed as she began to scroll through what appeared to be a group chat. A few more messages flooded in and he watched her grimace.

"Sorry," she muttered.

She began to type furiously with her thumbs, tossing the phone aside when she finished. She glanced up to meet his gaze. Despite her small smile, Jughead could tell Betty was frustrated by something.

He eyed her carefully. "What's up?"

"My friends." She rolled her eyes. "I told them I had plans, but they're wondering where I am. Or mad that I bailed on them. It's stupid."

She seemed irritated enough by the interruption that he decided not to press her on what exactly she'd told them about where she'd be. It didn't really matter to Jughead anyway. After all, she was here with him now, not them.

"What are the cool kids up to tonight?" he snarked instead.

Betty folded her arms together, sighing. "Cruising around town and then probably hanging out in Pickens Park with whatever booze or jingle jangle Reggie can wrangle from his connection on…" Her voice faded away, her face reddening in embarrassment.

Jughead suppressed a wince. "You can say it."

"The Southside," she finished lamely.

Jughead swallowed his reflex to defend his neighborhood against its admittedly bad reputation, and raised a droll eyebrow instead. "So that's what one-percenters do for fun."

Betty snickered. "I suppose it's a little cliche."

"Getting intoxicated next to a children's playground?" His brow creased. "More like brazen."

Betty gnawed at her upper lip. "Josie's mom is the mayor. She'd cover it up pretty quickly if someone actually got caught."

"Depending on their zip code." Jughead didn't bother to hide the traces of bitterness in his voice.

Betty's cheeks flushed, her eyes lowering to the napkin stand. "There's a lot that's not fair about this town," she murmured.

Jughead grunted in agreement. He braced himself against the countertop. "Betty." She lifted her eyes to meet his serious gaze. "That's the Ghoulies he buys from, not us. The Serpents don't deal drugs."

He felt an urgent need for her to believe this. Maybe to prove Toni wrong about outsiders and their prejudices. Maybe because he didn't want Betty to have any misconceptions about the closest thing he had to family. Either way, something inside him yearned for her reassurance.

His darkened eyes penetrated her round, expressive ones. "You trust me, right?"

Betty was quiet for a moment. Her hand rose to cup his cheek. She held it there. His pulse sped up at the feel of her soft fingers pressed against his skin.

"I do, Juggie," she told him softly. "And I'm not worried about anyone else on the Southside. Ghoulie or Serpent."

Jughead's heart skipped a beat at the nickname. It was cutesy and ridiculous, yet it sounded so endearing spilling off her tongue.

His lips turned up under her hand. He felt his tense shoulders relaxing. "Okay. Good."

Betty's fingers lifted gingerly to his beanie, her nails skimming over the knit points. Jughead's breath hitched, watching her. "Do you ever take this off?"

"I try not to."

"Even in 90 degree heat in the blazing sun?" she teased.

He chuckled at the reminder of being caught gawking at her at the swimming hole. "Even then."

"Well, I guess with no bathing suit either, you really didn't plan to go into the river that day."

Jughead smirked. "Were you checking me out, Cooper?"

"No more than you were checking me out," she retorted.

He laughed. "I was planning to read, but a pretty girl distracted me."

Betty's eyes glittered. "What if she'd wanted to go swimming?"

His lips pursed together. "Then I would have told her I'm not the biggest fan of water."

"Why not?"

Jughead's eyes clouded over. He fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers on the countertop, waging an internal debate if to barrage her with more scars from his childhood.

He could always just reply with sardonic humor and swat the question away. That was his normal method of relating to the world. But it was hard to shake the gentleness of Betty's response when he'd briefly opened up at the Twilight. How sweet and sensitive she'd been. It was easy to talk to her, he mused. He didn't feel judged or overexposed. It was almost like writing in a diary. A painful page he could just as easily turn over without having to ask for permission.

"In second grade, my friends and I signed up for swimming lessons at the El Royale Community Center." Jughead peered up at her, and Betty nodded for him to go on. "My parents forgot to pay, though. So the teacher wouldn't let me in the water. Made me sit alone in the stands until someone came to pick me up."

Betty didn't say anything. She folded her hand around his and squeezed it gently.

Jughead offered her a wry smile in return. "I learned eventually, but…" He trailed off and shrugged.

Her voice was hushed when she spoke again. "So you hate the swimming hole?"

Jughead shook his head. "Didn't say that."

He didn't really hate it. It was simply another reminder of the basic necessities most of his peers took for granted that he'd always had to make do without. But maybe it would be different now. A place forever associated with Betty and the moment he first really noticed her. He grinned softly at the thought.

Betty matched his smile. She took a breath and spoke again. "I love Sweetwater, but without the crowds. My sister and I would go every Saturday when we were younger. We'd stay late enough to watch the sunset. It's one of my favorite places in Riverdale to do that."

Jughead's lips curved up, picturing a pig-tailed Betty staring up at the sky in awe with those saucer-like green eyes. "You have a sister?"

"Yeah, Polly. She's two years older than me." Betty's face lit up. "She's at this summer-long farm program with her boyfriend." She leaned in closer to Jughead as if whispering a secret. "They're a bit odd. A little too into mother nature, if you know what I mean."

Jughead laughed, but his eyes soon grew glassy. "I have a sister too," he divulged. "She's 13." He sucked down the twinge of pain that rose in his throat. Yeah, a sister you haven't seen in five years.

Betty's eyes were wide with understanding. "What's her name?" she asked quietly.

"We call her Jellybean." He chuckled at Betty's attempt to stifle her double take. She flushed adorably in response. "Don't let the cute nickname fool you, though. She's a little rascal."

"She's with your mom?"

Jughead nodded. "Yeah. In Toledo."

"You must miss her a lot."

"Not her stealing the books off my shelf and then conveniently misplacing them," he jokingly deflected, "but yeah, I do."

Betty giggled. "Polly still raids my makeup drawer whenever she's home on break. Cruelty-free eyeshadow, my ass."

Jughead chortled. "What about your milkshake?"

"Huh?" Betty stared at him in confusion before it dawned on her. She was too slow, though.

Jughead grabbed the straw before she could move to defend her glass and downed a huge sip. He swallowed and licked his lips with a loud smack, his eyes gleaming mischievously at her. "Hmm. Not as good as strawberry, but not bad."

"You're mean, Juggie." Betty swatted playfully at him and he dodged her assault, laughing.

"Does that mean you don't want to kiss me anymore?" he baited.

She arched up an eyebrow. "When did I say that?"

Jughead grinned. He rested his elbows atop the countertop and leaned his upper body toward Betty. She tilted her chin to him, and his hand lifted to cradle her cheek. Their mouths brushed. Her lips were cold but sweet, and she tasted like a mixture of vanilla and something purely Betty. He kissed her a little harder, groaning when her tongue traced his lips. He wished he could whisk her away to the back room and kiss her anywhere she'd let him, but the logical side of his brain knew he ought to stop himself before his shift replacement showed up and possibly reported him for dereliction of duty.

He broke away reluctantly, his thumb stroking Betty's cheekbone. An idea came to him as they gazed hungrily at each other. He should take her to Sweetwater for their next official date. As a nostalgic recreation of her and her sister's childhood outings, but also as a revamp of when they'd first spotted each other. Except this time all alone, without any pesky interruptions or distractions.

"What are you doing on July 5th?" he asked.

Betty's nose wrinkled. "Don't you mean the 4th?"

"I have to work all day, and it'll be crowded then. But the 5th." Jughead's lips curled up at the corners, shooting Betty his most tempting smirk. "What do you say, Betts? We'll go to the swimming hole. Just you and me."

"Okay," she agreed. Her smile was as bright as the pink neon lights spelling out the word "diner" across the restaurant's far wall. "Let's do it."