#alluringdreams

IT’S HEREEE!

“My bandana.” He returned to the corner of her jaw, planting a kiss under her ear. “You wore it. Why?”

“You gave it to me?” It came out like a stupid question.

“For those ridiculous award pictures,” he replied quietly. “But you went home. You changed. You could have worn a scarf. Covered it up. But you put it back on. Why?” His lips brushed her ear as he spoke, sending chills down her back. She shivered and leaned into his warmth, looping her fingers through his belt loops.

“I...I don’t know.” A lie. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m not.”

won’t you come see about me?

He heard her breathing hitch in surprise, as if not expecting his endorsement. “Sorry?” she whispered back.  

“Are you really going to make me say it again?” They both looked up, and he slightly shook his head with an amused smile. “You’re right, okay? About…” Me, he almost said. “Bender.”   “Bender, huh,” she said, doubt clear in her voice.  The disbelief written all over her face only confirmed his suspicions that she knew.  This was her way of calling him out, the same way he called her out the week before. He didn’t know when Betty figured it out, but they definitely weren’t talking about Bender anymore.     “I have a question for you,” he said, keeping his voice hushed. She didn’t respond, but leaned a little closer so they could converse quietly. “Given...Bender...was a class-A asshole, why was Claire giving him the time of day?” Why are you giving me the time of day? he curiously wondered. Would she continue to give him any of her time? 

I’m sure you’re terribly busy, but I thought I’d check in! Love your writing, please keep it up! ❤️

“Sit. Down.” Betty angrily pushed Jughead into a chair, adding “Dumbass” under her breath as she reached for the first aid kit on the table.

He rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

“What?” Betty challenged.  “Now you have nothing to say?”

He just looked off to the side, but she could still feel the anger rolling off of him.  

She poured some antiseptic on a cotton ball, rubbing it across the cut on his cheek—probably a little more forceful than necessary.  He hissed out in pain, shooting her a dirty glare.  “That’s what you get for picking a fight with Trev,” she muttered, drying the wound.  

“I can’t believe you’re defending that asshole,” he scoffed, which pissed her off even more.  

“I am not defending him!”

“Yet you are somehow so blind—you can’t even see that he was the one who started it.”

“Wha—” She was appalled; that’s not what happened.  “You threw the first punch!”

“Yeah, well, he was asking for it,” Jughead replied angrily.

Frustrated, Betty grabbed his right hand, starting to clean his bleeding knuckles.  She stayed silent until she was done cleaning.  “So what was it, then?” she finally asked.

“What?”

“What did he say?” Betty guessed Trev must’ve been spouting off some bullshit.  She grabbed the roll of gauze, carefully starting to wrap his hand.  “To piss you off this badly.”

She felt him stiffen, but he just said, “It doesn’t matter now.”

Betty pulled the gauze tight, frowning in response.  Doesn’t he understand I care?  “Well it matters to me, especially if this—” she gently grabbed his hand for emphasis, “is the result.”

He was quiet, so she busied herself with tying off the gauze, tucking it in neatly.

Jughead caught her off guard by grabbing her hand in his.  She watched as he released a slow, tense breath, before looking at her to say, “He was just…threatening something that was mine, okay?

Now she was concerned. “What was he threatening...?”

“You.”

“Fuck you, Archie Andrews,” Betty swore under her breath as she scrubbed the lockers free of blue spray paint. This was the dumbest prank he’d ever pulled, and here she was…cleaning up his mess.  Like always.

Soap splashed up on her leg as another bucket of water was dropped next to her. “Jughead?” Betty asked, looking up in surprise. Jughead had no part in the prank. “What are you doing here…?”

“I’m cleaning,” he responded in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.  He said nothing else as he picked up one of her sponges and started scrubbing away.

“I see that,” Betty rolled her eyes. “I mean, why are you cleaning?”

“Why are you?” he shot back, stopping for a moment to face her. “We both know you didn’t do this.”

“Yes I did, Jug,” she lied, turning back to the lockers and cleaning furiously.

“Archie did it—”

“Leave it alone, Jug.”

“—and for some reason you are taking the blame for him.” Betty stopped, but said nothing; he was right. Jughead looked at her with a pained expression. “Why do you always cover for him?”

“Because...because I’m his girlfriend…” Betty trailed off when Jughead carefully reached over to run his thumb softly across her cheek. “Juggie…why are you here?”

“Because I’m not the dick making you do this.”  He pulled his hand away, thumb now covered in soapy blue paint. “He deserved detention. Not you.”

Betty laughed dryly. “Yeah, well, it’s better me than him…”

“No, you’re not hearing me, Betty.” Jughead gently placed a hand on her cheek, making her meet his eyes as he said,

“Yeah, he deserves detention…but also—he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Earth to Jughead?” 

“Hm?” Jughead snapped his gaze back up to Toni, who was working the bar.  “Yeah, Toni, sounds good.” 

She stared him down, hands on her hips.  “You haven’t heard a single word I said!”

“Sure I did.”  But Jughead’s attention was already back on her.  The anonymous blonde in the blue dress, dancing with her friends in the middle of his bar. 

Who are you? 

Toni suddenly groaned.  “Jesus, Jughead, will you go already?” 

He turned to her with a frown. “What? Why?”

“You’ve been staring at her ever since you got here.  Go dance with her!”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t dance, Toni.”

Sometime later, Jughead was snaking his way through the crowded dance floor—just trying to get to the pool tables in the back—when someone slammed into him with a loud “Shit!”

It was her.  

Hands flew up on his shoulders as she steadied herself.  “I’m so—"

She cut herself off when her eyes met his.  Whoa. She was beautiful.  

“Hi...” he finally said, breaking a brief silence.

She smiled shyly, looking up at him. “Hi.” 

He hadn’t realized his hands had landed on her hips when she ran into him.  Convenient.  

Like he said to Toni, he doesn’t dance.  But for her?

Jughead didn’t think twice before leaning in closer to say:  “Dance with me?” 

She didn’t have to answer—just smiled brighter, and slowly snaked her arms around his neck. 

He was so thoroughly distracted by her, he didn’t even think to ask:  

Who are you?

Betty and Jughead laid by the fireplace, staring up at the shadows that danced on the ceiling.

“Truth,” Jughead finally decided.

Betty took a deep breath—she had been avoiding this one all night: “You love me.”

It was a wild guess, but she was just so tired of wondering—of waiting for him to make the first move.  

Since they laid in opposite directions, she couldn’t see the small smile on Jughead’s face when he teased, “That wasn’t a question.”

Oh god, he doesn’t want to answer it. Her hands flew up to cover her face in embarrassment. “Okay, you know what? Forget it, it’s fine, I have a different one—”

“Betty.” Jughead rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look down at her. “Ask me again.”

Her heart raced as she slowly peaked through the cracks between her fingers.  “Do you love me?”

A silly question, he thought, smiling softly as he looked down at her. “Yes.”

Betty uncovered her eyes, hands drifting to her mouth instead. “Are you sure?” she asked, doubtfully.

Her voice was muffled by her hands and he laughed. Cute. “Sorry, Betts, I think it’s my turn.” He regarded her thoughtfully before asking, “Dare?”

“What, no option?” 

“Trust me.”

She did. “Okay…dare...”

“I dare you to close your eyes.”

He waited until her eyes closed completely before he moved forward, leaning down slowly to brush his lips against hers.  

He kept it soft, not wanting to freak her out.  But then—she kissed him back.

And his heart soared.