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

4 || wrinkles.

-eden's pov.-

"You know, you shouldn't frown so much. You're gonna get wrinkles."

"Wrinkles? I'm eighteen."

"I knew you were older than me!"

"Yeah, so what?"

"So why do you have the same class as me?"

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Why are you doing that answer-a-question-with-a-question thing again?"

"Why don't the two of you shut up!?" Archie shouts, making me flinch.

"Don't yell at her. She's only teasing. If you have a problem with it then move booths." Jughead growls back, glaring at Archie from across the table.

It isn't Archie's fault, he was probably annoyed, I would be too. Jughead protectively leans forward a bit, showing how serious he is to Archie about it. Being the egotistical typical football player Archie is, he slides out of the booth and leaves the diner.

Veronica lets out a big breath, mumbling an apology to us before running after her, calling Betty along too, since Betty has known him just about as long as Jughead has. I look down, embarrassed for making friends turn on each other.

"He isn't normally like this, E, he has just had a long day arguing with his dad about stuff." Betty says apologetically, slipping out of the booth to follow Archie and Veronica.

I purse my lips, playing with a loose thread on the sweater that belongs to Jughead. Jug lets his arm fall off the back of the booth and onto my shoulders, pulling me into his warm chest. I scoot over for more comfort.

"I'll apologize tomorrow. I didn't mean to upset anyone, I didn't realize I was that annoying."

"It's okay, angel, he is just having a bad day. Believe me, he would normally joke around and throw an insult or two at me."

I try to muster a small smile but I think we both know it doesn't reach my eyes. Jughead gives me a tight lipped smile and throws some cash onto the table, paying for all of our drinks and fries.

"Let's go shopping."

---

By the time we rounded the last planned store, my depressing thoughts had seeped back into my mind, and I wasn't just physically tired, but emotionally, too. Jughead had tried his best to cheer me up the hours we had been shopping, and it had worked. But now it has worn away.

"We have been shopping for four and a half hours, are you ready to go home?"

My heart swells. Home. Is that really what he calls it? Can I call it that? Is it even that? I turn toward Jughead, who is holding almost thirty bags- three-hundred dollars worth of stuff. I still have a few ideas floating through my mind on where to shop.

"Home?" I ask, instead of giving away the fact that I am not done shopping quite yet. I glance at him, before continuing to walk toward my destination. He steps into sync with me after grabbing a toothpick from a stand in the middle of the walkway.

He lets the toothpick hang between his teeth. "Yep."

"Should we call it that?"

"What do you mean?"

He looks toward me, studying me as I take a deep breath. "I mean, should I call it that?"