Betty's Cardigan

Drunk under a Streetlight

"But I knew you

Dancing in your Levi's

Drunk under a streetlight, I

I knew you

Hand under my sweatshirt

Baby kiss it better, right"

- Cardigan (Taylor Swift, 2020)

Betty stared at James like he was her world. Somehow that was everything.

Betty didn't want to go home that night. So he took her to the park. 

The oaks bent over a bench hidden in the shrubbery. It was Betty's favorite spot in the whole park. They had spent what seemed like a thousand weekends there, James' head on Betty's lap, her fingers caressing his face like a mother's touch. 

"I wish it could be like this forever," Betty sighed. "I wish I never had to go home."

"Just another year," James said. "We'll run away after that."

Betty chuckled. She knew that he didn't mean it, at least not in that way. Betty would head off to college, while James would well - he was still trying to figure stuff out. 

Betty's makeup was wearing off. There was a bruise on her cheek, easily overlooked. James didn't say a word as he reached for her bruise and gently drew a star-like shape over it.

Betty took his hand and kissed it deeply. She didn't like to speak about it, but James made sure that she knew how he felt about her and how much he wanted to care for her. After all, that's what good boyfriends were for, right?

"Let's celebrate the beginning of summer!" James announced. Jerking his head up from Betty's lap, he took a picture of her on his phone. Setting it as his wallpaper, he said, "You're the Wendy to my Peter." 

Betty smiled. "I don't know about that."

But James was already on his feet. The sun was setting and the park was growing cold. The streetlights came to life above their heads.

"Here!" James threw the plastic bottle full of alcohol towards Betty. She caught it as easily as he had caught feelings for her a year ago.

"What's this?" she asked. Her eyebrows arched as she opened the cap and smelt it.

"I don't know," James admitted. "I nicked it from my uncle."

"Bottom's up then," she said and giggled. 

James loved the fact that they were being normal irresponsible teenagers. Betty took a swig and then he did too. Hours of conversation passed in a blur until both of them were buzzed. 

"Let's head back," Betty finally announced as she shook the empty bottle in her hand.

"Where?" James didn't want to leave.

"I'm gonna go back home."

James felt like he had just been splashed with ice cold water. "I thought you didn't want to."

"Yeah but I can't walk back to Adam's while I'm tipsy. My house is the closest from here. Might as well get it over with when I won't remember everything in the morning." Betty stood and dusted her plaid skirt. "What about you?"

"I'll wander," James slurred. Yeah, his thoughts were getting fuzzy again. Why had she mentioned Adam? 

"Can't believe I'm gonna start summer with a hangover," Betty said as she squeezed her nose between her thumb and forefinger. 

"You go," James insisted. "I'll call someone to pick me up." The last thing Betty needed was to arrive past curfew, especially after not going home the previous night.

"Yeah," Betty said as a farewell as she wobbled on her high-heels, trying too keep her balance on the cobblestone pathway of the park. 

James was on his way to his car to fetch his wallet when he spotted a hot pink Prius on the street across the park. He was drawn to it like it had it's own gravity. It didn't matter whether he wanted to or not, he simply had to go.

Lorraine was leaning against the hood of her car and smoking a cigarette.

"Hey!" he called out to her unintentionally. James had to get his impulses in control.

"Hey," Lorraine said as she tapped the end of her cigarette. The ashes fell on the asphalt around her glossy red stilettos. "You're clearly drunk."

"That obvious, huh?"

Lorraine's lips tilted in a crooked up-to-no-good smile which James was starting to find more and more intriguing. She was wearing a snug blue skirt and a peach top.  

"What are you doing here?" Lorraine asked. 

James took a minute before he answered, "Nothing." 

The answer seemed to satisfy Lorraine who said, "Get in. I'll drive you home."

And so James did. Lorraine finished her cigarette, ran the flats of her shoes over the end and started the engine. Her hands clenched the steering wheel as she hit the gas and they were off. 

James couldn't take his eyes off her the whole time.