heartbeats ; bughead

28

Betty 

After I went offline, I felt fairly bad about what I did. I left Jughead to ponder everything, about whether I meant what I said about falling for him or not. 

But what can I say? I'm really uninspirational, really boring, and really, really shy. There used to be this guy that I really liked in middle school.

You probably know him by Archie Andrews. But we became super close in middle school especially. He confessed everything to me that was on his mind, whether it be not having a girlfriend like everyone else, or getting an F in Chemistry. 

He was there for me, and I was there for him. And I trusted him with anything. I couldn't resist that ginger hair, brown eyes, tiny freckles. Until one night.  When I realized I was in eighth grade, not kindergarten. 

That I needed a boyfriend, a life. That I can't just live in my world of pink, ruffles, lace, and unicorns. So, each day, my feelings for Archie Andrews grew more and more. I would sneak looks at him in class, and he would look back at me, only to smile and turn away. 

I would hold his hand in hard times, and when he thought that it was just emotional support, it was me confessing that I had something for him. And I just couldn't tell him.

I couldn't tell him that I actually did feel something. That I wanted to be more than friends. For two whole years, I put off telling him. When I did muster up the courage, I was interrupted by my conscience. 

Until when Archie told me he had feelings for me. So it wasn't even me who told him anything. I was too shy for my own good. Which is why falling for something like Jughead, with his innocent eyes, his cool hands on my waist, was the wrong idea. How badly I wanted to feel his lips on mine.

That was just a feeling I never experienced with Archie. You don't want to be shy anymore? Call him. Call Jughead.

Damn it. I really am timid. Like a lamb. And the lambs always get killed. But somewhere in me, I knew Jughead would understand everything. There wasn't any nastiness that he could possibly have. 

So I pressed his button on the contact list, my stomach flipping more than a pancake. The soothing sound of the ringing, and then silence.

"Hello?" I gasped, blushing a little from hearing his voice. 

"Hey, Jughead. It's me. Betty." 

"Oh. Oh. Hi, B-Betty. What's up?" He was nervous, I could sense it.

"How are you? Did you see the news?" He sucked air in through his lips.

"Can we meet?" I played with my hair, knowing that he avoided the question. Was he hiding something?

"I was just about to ask that. Jug, I don't wanna meet at Pop's. Can we go outside the town? Like, some cafe or something. I just wanna leave all this behind for sometime."

"Okay, okay. Wait a second. I'll think about it." There was some irritation in his voice, and I got a little worried about him, wanting to ask if he was okay. 

When, he came back, he seemed better. Happier. "Yeah, sorry about that. Let's go. I found a cafe just outside Riverdale. Near Greendale. That okay? They have pizza. I'm really craving pizza." I smiled to myself.

"Yeah, okay. Can you drive me?"

"Meet you there in fifteen. And Betty?"

"Jug?"

"Thank you for the text." He ended the call, leaving me to ponder everything. Like I did to Jughead. Revenge was his favorite. 

Fifteen Minutes Later...

"Ready to go?" He smiled.

"Wow, you were an actual shirt. Not that sweatshirt which smells like dirt. I wonder what kind of insecurity you hid under there. Third nipple?" He laughed.

"No. Definitely not. And a third nipple would only benefit me more, so joke's on you. What about you? Not the simple cardigan, I see." I was wearing a romper, which is a terrible term by the way. I'd never worn it before, because I always thought the mustard colored linen looked bad on me.

"Ah, I hate it. My mom thought it would look nice, but I think it makes me look--"

"Pretty? I agree." I blushed a little, but Jughead didn't make any eye contact with me. 

Our ride reminded me of the time back when it was Christmas, and we were laughing and talking at smiling, ignoring the rest of the world. Occasionally, our hands would brush, but we ignored it.

Because we were too caught up with each other. The music was playing on the radio, old songs, and we yelled them out at full volume. Yes, people stared, looking at us like were were murderers or something.

Until the sirens. A police car, and the car came to a halt. Jughead looked tense, his hands gripping the wheel, knuckles white with nervous fury. 

A policemen, in his 40s, came to the door, looking stern, like a father.

"Jughead Jones?" He nodded.

"Yeah, that's me." 

"You need to come in for questioning." I laced my fingers through his, and he took a look at me, a look of confusion. He looked like an innocent child looking for something, anything, to keep him going. 

"Why? What did I do?"

The policemen sighed with annoyance. I smiled a little at Jughead at his sass. "I didn't say you did anything. You have to come in for questioning." I took a deep breath.

When the policeman spoke again, he looked down at his clipboard, almost in shame. "You're one of the suspects in the murder of Jason Blossom."

yo, this chapter was kinda tense, but i'm back so ha. i haven't written in a while, so the chapters are probably kinda crappy, but bear with me it'll get better. so about the five comments think on my note page about whether it should be just bughead, the majority (3) out of five (two didn't exist, but more than half) said bughead. so, the rest of the chapters in this book will be about...bughead! the book will probably be wrapped up soon, and there'll be like a formal thank you at the end and stuff. 

i'm thinking of writing a sequel! but tell me what you all think before i do that. plus i need to finish this first lmao. ayyy we're almost at 5K! thanks so much, cuz these chapters are pretty hard to write. ly all!

~mo