~~ w r i t t e n i n t h e s t a r s ~~ a bughead story

c h a p t e r t h r e e

"You gave me your shirt?" she asked him. He shrugged his shoulders.

"You were borderline naked," he responded, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. Betty shrugged and began to get out of his bed, even though she really didn't want to.

It was warm, and it smelled just like Jughead : woodsy, like pine-trees, and black pepper, but also citrusy. She liked the way he smelled, and often tried looking for whatever cologne he bought that made him smell like that, but was never successful.

Betty's foot touched something soft as her feet hit the floor, causing her to notice the makeshift bed Jughead had obviously slept in.

"You know, you could've slept in your bed with me," she said casually, walking over to the small mirror hanging near his closet to check her appearance. She didn't want it to sound weird, like she wanted him to, but if she was being honest, there were moments where she really did want him to sleep in the same bed as her. She wanted his arms around her, keeping her safe, and warm. She wanted their breathing to match, and ––

"Yeah, well, you smelled like puke and alcohol, so that wasn't going to happen," Jughead snickered.

And then there were moments like that, that ruined her fantasies. Betty rolled her eyes and began untangling her matted hair with her fingers.

Jughead didn't want to admit it, but he really liked Betty wearing his shirt. She was extraordinarily short, and he had a long torso, so the shirt was like a dress on her. As she stood and attempted to comb her hair in the mirror, Jughead couldn't help but stare at her.

Her pale skin only made the black of his shirt darker, which in turn made her look even paler. Her legs were smooth and shiny, and only about half of her thigh was covered the shirt. Jughead shook his head and turned to look out his window, even though the blinds were closed. If he kept staring, she was going to notice him staring, and that would not be good.

"I suppose I should clean up the house, huh?" she said, turning around. Jughead, once more, shrugged.

"Already did. I'm kindof, airing the place out, right now," he told her. Her nose scrunched in annoyance.

"It was my mess, you didn't need to clean it up," she responded. Jughead chuckled and pulled his phone out of his pocket, ignoring her comment. Betty sighed and sat on the bed next to him. She crossed her legs and patted the center of her lap, signaling for Jughead to lay down. Shrugging, he complied, but continued messing around on his phone.

The two sat like that for a while, sitting in companionable silence, just enjoying each other's company. Betty absentmindedly began playing with his hair.

"Hey Betts?" Jughead said after a while. Betty looked down at him, and hummed to show she was listening. Jughead, still looking at his phone, asked softly, "What made you so upset you decided to get drunk?" Betty froze, she wasn't expecting him to know the reason she got drunk.

"Well, I mean... Ronnie waved me over to talk, and she told me that Archie was looking for me," Betty began. Jughead groaned internally. It was always Archie that made her upset, that always made her cry. God, Jughead hated it when Archie made Betty cry. "So I went to find him, and when I did, he asked me where he should take Ron out to dinner, even though he and I scheduled a date for tonight," she finished, sighing. "That's all I remember."