The Festival - A Bughead Story

Part Seven - The Balcony

Jughead knew very well how to make a Sex on the Beach. It was fresh, tasty, and with just enough alcohol for her to feel nicely tipsy.

They finished the game a few minutes later. It was close to midnight and Betty knew that the ballroom was still full of drunk family members. The opening night of the festival normally ended in the early hours of the morning.

"What do we do now?" Veronica asked, throwing an arm around Archie.

"Pokémon!" Dilton shouted, taking out his cellphone from his pocket. "Pokémon!"

He slid his thumbs on the screen. Moose immediately took his own phone out, obviously looking for his Pokémon app too.

"My dad must have some place for music..." Reggie muttered as he got up, stumbled a little, and walked off to the desk part of the room.

"Come, Archikins, I want to see the other rooms."

And like that, Veronica and Archie were in the hallway. Betty exchanged a look with Jughead. "What are we doing?" she asked, obviously intending that they would do something together.

"Wait here."

Jughead headed back to the kitchen. Betty chew her nail a little before deciding she would get up too, as Jughead was coming back.

That was a mistake.

It seemed that the spirits she had drank in the red solo cup finally spread in her veins. The room instantly felt dizzy and she stumbled on her feet. A bubbly laugh escaped her.

'So that was what they were talking about...'

Suddenly, her friends' stupid drunken behavior didn't seem as stupid.

"Betty?"

She looked over at Jughead, who was holding the half-empty bottle of vodka, and she smiled.

"Yes?"

"Are you drunk?"

"I might be."

"You have zero tolerance."

"I don't, don't I?"

"You don't. Come, we're going outside."

He opened the glass door for her and closed it behind him, after grabbing a blanket from the pile by the door. It was a small balcony with a glass banister and a breath-taking view of Riverdale.

Jughead stretched out the blanket on the cement floor and sat, his back to the door. Without saying a word, he opened his arms and Betty immediately cuddled herself up against his torso, both of his arms wrapping her and warming her.

Maybe that was what alcohol was for.

To break down barriers.

"I hate this town." Jughead whispered, his lips against Betty's hair. "I try not to, but I can't help hating it."

"It has a lot to hate."

"It does."

"It's a small town."

"It is."

Betty sighed. "I hate my family."

"It almost isn't even considered as a family."

"They created me. I'd say that's a good way to be a family."

"Maybe they created you, but they can't control you."

"Try telling my mom that."

"I will."

A small chuckle escaped Betty. "I would advise against it, but if you do, I want to be there."

"Don't worry." She felt him smile against her hair. "You will."

There was a small silence, during which Betty admired the view. The wind had picked up during the night and she could smell a storm coming. She loved that smell. Like a pattern drawn by a kid, she could see the town's lights shining here and there. Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe. The bus stops. The Sweetwater Bridge.

The school.

"I also hate my family."

He had said it with a tone so low she almost thought she imagined it, but she knew she didn't. Acting on an impulse, she grabbed his hands and laced her fingers with his. He pressed his hand and gulped down a little of the vodka, straight from the bottle. She took it after him and did the same. She welcomed the burning feeling, serene.

She just wanted him to speak. She knew he wanted to, but didn't know how. So she waited. They exchanged the bottle a few more times before he set it down and talked again.

"I know you're wondering how I can drink so much. There's a simple answer. I've got a lot of practice." He paused, visibly searching for words. "My dad... my dad was an alcoholic. Still is. My mom left us when I was two, I don't blame her. My dad was an awful person. He used to beat me up when I wouldn't wait up for him when he came back from the bar. He would barge into my room at two a.m. and slap me a couple of times. He never really hurt me, he wasn't strong enough, weakened by the alcohol, but it was traumatizing, especially since I was about six. I learnt to be tough early on. My dad got his alcohol money from petty theft and some drug deals, but there wasn't enough for me. I stole my clothes and food. By nine, my dad insisted on making me drink alcohol with his buddies. I was the laughing stock. The cute little pet. I decided I would make money out of their interest and started bartending their little parties. That's how I got the recipe for the Sex on the Beach, by the way. If I didn't use the money on essentials, I would hide it from my dad. A couple of times, he found it, slapped me for hiding it, and spent it all in one night. It was long, but I finally had enough saved to run away."

Betty was surprised, to say the least, but she spoke softly, knowing how hard it was for him to tell her something so personal. "Where did you go?"

"I squatted at Archie's for a while, but his parents got suspicious, so I left and lived here and there. I took little jobs for money. You know how much I eat."

"Where are you living now?"

"Pop's, since it's opened twenty-four seven. And it has food."

"Don't tell me you're sleeping in those greasy booths!"

"I am. It isn't as bad as it seems, I promise."

"That can't be hygienic."

"You're right, it probably isn't."

Slowly, carefully, Betty untangled herself from his arm to turn around and look at him. The alcohol in her veins was giving her the little courage she needed to make a move.

His pale blue eyes were focused on her. His beanie was slightly crooked, sitting on his raven hair, and he was slightly frowning. He was biting his lower lip with pearl-white teeth. Betty's eyes fell on his mouth.

There wasn't anything she would have loved to do as much as she would have loved to kiss him right at that moment.

Her judgement, which would have otherwise been screaming for her to back off, was clouded by the alcohol.

"I would really like to kiss you right now."

The words escaped her like a curse. But instead of the rejection she was expecting, Jughead's hand found his way to her cheek and he gently caressed it with thumb.

"That would be something I'd enjoy, too."

She parted her lips. He was so handsome, just sitting there...

And right at that moment, with a timing that couldn't have more perfect, the smoke alarm went off.