How to be the Perfect Outcast || Jughead Jones / Riverdale

3 || cheryl blossom is a menace.

-eden's pov.-

I wake up to the bright rays of sunlight that stream through the window (that fucking Jug opened) and right into my eyes. I groan and roll to the side, accidently falling off of Jug's bed and straight on my ass.

I hear Jughead's raspy laugh, and groan again. I perk up at the smell of food, and roll onto my back so I can see past the table stacked with Jug's work and watching as he cooks something on the stove, without a shirt on.

I try and ignore my blush, "What're you cooking?"

He laughs again. "You always seem to be hungry, huh?"

"You always seem to answer a question with a question, huh?"

I smirk in defeat, watching Jughead shake his head and chuckle. He slips something onto a plate with something that looks like a really flat, shiny pancake. I hope he didn't make pancakes because I hate to break it to him, but I hate pancakes.

He pours orange juice into a glass and walks toward me, not bothering to bend down to hand me the glass. I reach up and take it from him, thanking him. I start to sip it as I sit up into a criss-cross fashion, or what I like to call it, indian style.

"So I made a call this morning to the feds that left their card in case you needed anything, and they are required to lend you so much a month until you get a job or turn eighteen, whichever comes sooner." Jug says, making another plate.

My lips part, and I lift my head to stare at him in shock, my eyes wide. He didn't have to go through all that trouble for me, especially after all that he has done already. Why does he care so much?

Not that I am complaining or anything, I really appreciate this. I feel more at home here with Jughead, drinking orange juice on the ground, then I ever did at home with my own flesh and blood.

"The first cash check came in about an hour ago, it's next to the bed. After we go to school I am gonna take you to the mallmart to get clothes, shoes, toothbrush, hairbrush, whatever you need."

"Makeup, too." I mutter, joking.

"Makeup? Have you seen yourself? You don't need makeup!"

I blush, trying to cover it up by taking a sip of my orange juice. When I put my cup down, away from my face, Jughead walks toward me with a plate, an omelet on it beside two tortillas. I lip my lips, thanking him, before taking the plate from his grasp.

He sits down to my right, shoulder to shoulder with me as we lean against the bedframe. He nods to the envelope on the side table to my left. I bite my lip and set my glass down, before reaching over and grabbing it.

I pull it toward us and open it, sliding my nail under the sticky part to rip it open. I gasp when I see a huge stack off cash, in bills. I pull it out and count it, hundred, hundred, hundred. Jesus christ.

"Twelve-hundred." I mutter, a little shocked. "This is for the month?"

He nods, starting to dig into his food. I tuck the cash neatly back into the envelope and set it on the table. I push my plate and glass away in case I kick it before turning and wrapping my arms around Jughead, squeezing him.

"Thank you so freaking much, Jug. This means so much. So much more than you think."

He chuckles, his laughter vibrating through my eardrums. He wraps his arms around me too, and my stomach does a flip or two. I let go of him and kiss his cheek, catching a glimpse of a blush when I pull away.