As Jughead typed the last word into his novel, he looked to his side to see Betty already fast asleep. He laid the gray laptop he had perviously been writing on, on top of the night stand next to the bed, as he did so he saw the clock, which read: 2:16 am. 'Shit,' he thought. He didn't realize how late it was. Not to mention he had a few classes tomorrow- well, technically, today.
Betty was sleeping on her side, making it easy for Jughead to spoon her. He inhaled a whiff of her scent; strawberries, peaches and books. She always smelled like that and it was his absolute favorite smell in the entire world. He wrapped his larger body around her smaller one, holding her tight as if she were a balloon about to float away. Betty slightly woke up from the feeling of a cool, large hand going around her warm waist under the blanket. She nudged herself closer to his torso until she was firmly pressed against it, and then drifted off to a peaceful slumber once again.
Jughead on the other hand, could not fall asleep for the life of him. He tried everything he could think of: counting sheep, counting his breath, holding his breath, blinking his eyes quickly, ect. Nothing worked. He would usually fall asleep with ease but tonight he was a nocturnal owl trapped in a body.
After twenty minutes of simply laying there hoping for sleep to take him away, he abandoned all hope for sleep to come. He looked at the beautiful, smart, amazing women beside him, 'how did I ever get so lucky?' he asked himself in his thoughts with a smile tugging at his lips. The moon light peered into the darkly lit room through the slit of the curtain which was open. The moon light danced on her skin as Jughead listened to her faint snores.
He stared at his Juliet; even in her sleep Jughead through she was gorgeous. The moon light allowed him to see her face, her pale skin glowed like it was the moon itself, her blonde sunshine hair, her strawberry pink lips which were slightly ajar, around her closed eyes were a few cute little wrinkles, he couldn't see the color of her eyes at the moment but he could imagine her hazel, meadow green eyes. She had slight bags under her eyes-not very noticeable-but this was Jughead and he noticed every thing about her; like when she laughs- she slightly tilted her head back and rolls it, scrunches her eyes, opens her mouth wide, and laughs with her shoulders. Like how she always makes double the amount of food for him-because she knows he was homeless at one point and didn't have very much to eat. Like how happy she gets when she writes. Like how happy she is when she reads a book and how sad she is when she finishes it. Like how much she cares for her family and friends.
"The Juliet to my romeo. But we live happily ever after," he whispered.
Jughead suddenly realized how tired he had gotten and how he's already half way asleep.
'She's perfectly imperfect. And, God, I love her,' He thought as sleep dragged him away.
