Adult-FanFiction.org : Comics

Wallflower	By : CeeCee Category: Comics > Archie & Co. Views: 10156 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Archie & Co, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Riverdale High, campus metal shop, first floor:

“Jug, can you pass me those safety goggles, please?” Betty finished tugging on the thick work gloves, mentally slapping herself for volunteering to help Mister Svenson in constructing the arch that would be the centerpiece of the gym as students made their way inside. She adored her shop teacher. She believed in the project. No problems there.

Meanwhile, here she was, draped head to tow in the heavy apron, elbow-length gloves and enough grime and dirt to leave her clothes, hair (tucked under a borrowed baseball cap) and skin a lost cause. They’d made a lot of progress with the arch. Too bad she had little more to show for it than getting filthy, and covering her entire outfit with the safety gear that had seen better days. She caught her reflection coming through the glass-paned door of the classroom on her way back from the gym. She was a shapeless mess.

Where was Ronnie? In the gym, pretending to help with the posters and nagging the prom committee in the guise of “delegating.”

Where was Archie? Pretending to give a damn about the prom decorations and “helping” Veronica choose magic markers, finding excuses to tickle her and touch her that were sooooooooooooooooo unnecessary.

And where was Betty? Sequestered away in the “dungeon” toiling away like someone’s unwicked stepsister.

“This blows balls,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Jughead inquired over the buzz and smoke of the soldering iron as they joined two pieces of iron strips in the lattice they were constructing. Blue sparks flew erratically in the comfortably warm classroom, dancing in the sunbeams shining in from outside.

“Nothing,” she recovered absently.

“Oh. ‘Kay.” He studied her through the visor of the safety mask, staring askance at her with those intelligent, narrow brown eyes. “Couldn’t sworn you said ‘This blows balls,’ which wouldn’t be completely inaccurate. Moose was supposed to be in here doing this.”

“I know. Midge took him to that ballroom dancing class.”

“Midge has too much time on her hands and a twisted sense of humor. Still don’t know what those two see in each other,” he continued, shaking his head.

“Chemistry,” she offered.

“Glands,” he corrected her. “Don’t ever call it anything else. He’s just so…well, screw it, he’s big and dumb as a plank, and she’s a skank.”

“Poet and didn’t know it,” she shot back, retrieving a tuft of steel wool to begin sanding the section they’d already finished. “She’s not that bad.”

“Sure. Just follow the line of guys that got their ass kicked, they oughta agree with you in spades…she KNOWS how he reacts, but there she goes, letting guys ask her out, giving out her number like she just ‘doesn’t know why these guys keep hounding me, I have a boyfriend, for God’s sake, why won’t they leave me alone?”

“Forbidden fruit. Makes her feel pretty.”

“Pfft. Please,” he sneered. He nodded at her. “You don’t do that.”

“It’s not my thing.”

“You’re, like, nice. You don’t play that silly game shit, you actually call guys back…speaking of which, what’s the deal? You and Arch going to the big night?”

“I don’t know. Ask him.”

“No, YOU ask him! C’mon, you know you want to,” he urged, turning off the torch and powering off the gas.

“Shame on you, Jughead! Don’t you know my heart already belongs to someone else?” She knelt down on one knee, flinging one arm wide and planting her palm over her heart, allowing her bosom to heave with emphasis, “Forsythe P Jones, most eligible bachelor, dog aficionado, taste tester, and chess champion, will you do this miserable wretch the honor of escorting me to yon dance? I pray thee, kind sir, say me yea, not nay, forsooth!”

“Gads…get UP!” Jughead was already relieving himself of the mask and laying it aside. His narrow chest quaked with laughter. “I don’t do proms. You’ll get me in a tux and smiling for overpriced couples pictures when Hell freezes over.”

“Please?” she mock-begged. Her stomach was already churning for what she knew was next, in the near future.

“Nay,” he proclaimed, grabbing her by the elbow and hoisting her up.

“Hmmmph.”

“Goofball,” he grinned sagely, giving her that funny look that Ethel swore turned her to butter, even though she was seldom its target. “Seriously, though. Ask him. What have you got to lose?”

“It’s called dignity. Juggie, we’re talking ugly if I end up asking him, which looks like begging, and if I walk away with that “D’OH!” feeling of ‘why did I make a complete ass of myself, he’s TOTALLY asking Ronnie, and my cheeks feel like they’re on fire.”

“So? Guys do that all the time.”

“Liar. They don’t get embarrassed. You guys burp and fart out loud, walk around scratching your balls, pick your nose, and act like the sun doesn’t set on your butts because you’re so cool.”

“Join in any time…” he sighed.

“Grow me some balls first. Big ones.” Jughead’s shoulders shook and he nearly choked on the stick of Wrigley’s gum he pulled out of his pocket.

“Want some?”

“Nah.” She reached for her own pack of Listerine Breath Saver strips after she finished washing her hands. She put away the gloves and hung up the smock. “I’m done here.”

“Movie later?” Jughead and Betty held DVD-a-thons every free weekend that she had.

“We’ll see. If I walk back out to my car by myself, looking like someone ran over my cat, you’ll know what my answer was to the prom question.”

“You’ll live. You rock.” He held up his hand for a high five that turned into their typical soul brother grapple, and Jughead surprised her by catching her wrist and enveloping her in a hug that resembled a headlock. A sloppy, loud kiss made it’s way behind her ear.

“EWWWWWWW! Leggo!” She retaliated with jabbing him in the ribs.

“You love me,” he insisted, giving her his best puppy dog face, which he’d had years to practice under the tutelage of Hot Dog, his seven-year-old sheepdog/terrier mix.

“I’d love you more if you weren’t pushing me into this. Stop me, please! One last chance…” She let her voice dwindle. He shook his head again.

“Uh-uh. Go get that man. Chop, chop!” He cast his arm wide in a flinging gesture. “Amscray!”

“Grrrrrrrr…this is SO gonna suck.”

She dragged her way to the gym as Jughead detoured to the candy machine, hearing the last of his encouragement drift back through the hall the further away she trod. She could already hear the echo of music in the gymnasium and see posters littering the floors. The prom was in a week, so the extra sets of unused bleachers were camouflaged in brown postal wrap; Nancy was putting the finishing touches on a mural that she and Chuck drew, daubing with a paint-laden sponge. A few of the committee members waved to Betty, chirping out hellos and rolling their eyes at Veronica, who was currently making a spectacle of herself on the ladder, hanging the disco ball.

Betty’s stomach clenched when she noticed who was standing behind her on the lift, steadying her as she anchored the ball. Archie’s hands were possessive around her waist as he whispered something in her ear.

She wanted to hate them both. She never quite could.

Veronica was her oldest friend. One could debate that she was her BEST friend, but definitely the oldest. If she needed to borrow something hot for a party, Ronnie was her girl. Trade juicy gossip over lattes? Ronnie. Get an honest opinion while they were shopping for shoes? Ronnie. Talk candidly about sex?...well, same deal. Somewhat candidly, anyway. Betty never remembered hearing how far Ronnie DID go, so much as how far she DIDN’T.

Ronnie had taught Betty about having standards. “I won’t put out unless a guy has spent at least fifty bucks on dinner. I don’t care about the food, just the thought.” Didn’t matter that her daddy was rich. Didn’t matter that she enjoyed constant retail therapy. It was just, as she put it, “the thought.” With rare exceptions, Ronnie actually hadn’t done the deed but once or twice. Not because she didn’t want to. Not because her parents told her no, which they certainly had.

Just because she couldn’t be bothered unless it was worth the payoff.

“If you put out every time, Betty, guys’ll just get the milk for free. Why wear out a perfectly good pussy when you can keep it sweet and fresh for someone who will make an effort?” That had been their last sleepover. Betty had turned up the music uncharacteristically loud in their family room in the basement for fear her mother would hear. Ronnie had worn babydolls to bed, despite Betty’s nervousness that her parents would frown on it, then grudgingly put on hers, too, while they indulged in Oreos, facepacks, and manicures in front of Dawson’s Creek reruns. “I don’t go downtown, either. Make a guy work for it, not you!”

“Guys like it,” Betty reasoned.

“Not enough for me to get down on my knees. For anyone,” she jabbed, unscrewing the bottle of blood-red polish and painting her big toe.

“I want a guy to want to come back to me. To like me for me, without having to guess if I ruined it all or did something wrong.”

“Doesn’t work that way,” Ronnie stated flatly. “Hand me a cookie?”

That brought them to this. Same cat-and-mouse, different day. Betty wanted Archie. Ronnie had Archie. Ronnie dangled Archie and went after the next big wallet. Ronnie dumped Archie. Archie dangled Betty within fingertips’ reach, then accused her of playing games when she wouldn’t give it up. Games.

Her.

His lips fit hers just right, something she’d always known that night that he’d kissed her at the freshman mixer. She’d handed him the ladle to the punch bowl. He stared out at the dance floor while Veronica had snuggled up to Jason Blossom, that transfer student from Central City. His hands were all over her ass, prompting frequent taps from the chaperones. Archie turned to Betty, eyeing her up and down, taking in the short denim skirt and snug little long-sleeved tee with the Happy Bunny logo on it.

“Punch?” she offered.

“Nah,” he replied, setting down his cup. Her heart sank until he reached for her cup and set it, too, down on the table before she was finished. His fingers were warm around her wrist. “Dance?”

Shit.

Her stomach dropped into her shoes, and butterflies took flight in her chest. “S-sure, Arch.” She fought against clinging too closely to him as they wended and wove their way through the crowd, silently seeking the center of the floor, but his grip tightened on her hand, and he surprised her again by lacing their fingers together more intimately. They ended up in the lone, unoccupied space on the gym floor, dancers swirling slowly around them in lazy, awkward pairs. They ended up bathed in the spotlight, and Betty initially had a hard time meeting his eyes. She felt the other dancers settle around them, giving them room, and she finally eased her arms up around his neck, embracing him loosely as his palms crept up to her slender waist. Her heart stuttered and dipped, and she thought she would be sick. She regretted the punch. She regretted her outfit, her hair, her inability to say anything intelligent, now that there were no sports uniforms, concession counters, bikes, baseball gloves, bowling balls, lunch lines or other helpful distractions giving her a platform to talk to him.

He smelled good. Damned good.

She did the unthinkable. She let her mouth run away with itself.

“Hi,” she stammered shyly. He grinned back.

“Hi, Bets.” He shrugged, and they fell into step with little effort. “Having fun?”

“Sure,” she agreed.

“I don’t know if I am,” he confessed. She felt him fiddle with her belt loop on her skirt, and she was conscious of them growing slightly closer, narrowing the gap between them until the placket of his jeans was nearly brushing her belly.

“Why, Arch?”

“The music’s okay,” he admitted. “It’s a dance. You’ve heard one Ben Folds Five song, you’ve heard ‘em all.”

“I have all their CDs, so I guess I have,” she winced, lightly slapping his shoulder when he threw back his head and laughed.

“I just expected more out of this than…this. Here we are, at Riverdale High. A dance. New school. New kids. New gym. And we get Hi-C, balloons, bleachers, and everyone running back like cattle whenever they play any song where you have to get up and dance like everyone else.”

“Guilty,” she whimpered, raising hand before replacing it on his shoulder. She’d done her share of the Macarena and the electric slide that night. He felt hot, and they continued to tip closer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ronnie toss back her head and laugh, and she caught Betty’s attention. Betty marinated in the smug look she gave and cringed when she winked knowingly, as if to say “Go ahead. Give him a try. Been there, done that.” She then ignored Betty and allowed Jason to gnaw on her neck.

“Something on your mind?” Archie’s voice brought her back. She faced him again, watching her reflection in his crystal blue eyes. His wavy red hair was longer lately; he wore it like a boarder punk, and kept his sideburns short. A lock of it flopped into his eyes, and before she could stop herself she reached up to tuck it behind his ear.

“It’s…no. Nothing. Why? Something on yours?”

“Maybe,” he hinted, and she felt his hands tighten on her waist, exploring the shape of her curves before they traveled to her hips.

“What, may I ask?”

“What you taste like,” he murmured, and he closed that remaining space between them, ducking his head and ever so gently batting her nose with the tip of his. It had the desired result. Her eyes searched his and took in their thoughtful droop and the heat there. He steamed her lips with his breath, and coaxed her to tilt her head up, kissing her so sweetly she thought she would go up in flames. Their lips parted, then brushed again, deepening and drawing it out, again and again, until his tongue teased her lower lip. She opened for him, and his swept inside, exploring the moist texture of her mouth, swirling around hers, dominating it. She released a tiny moan, low in her throat, and felt her hands tunneling through the back of his thick hair.

She didn’t realize how she’d practically been climbing him like a tree, trying to get as close to him as she could, until Miss Grundy rapped her on the shoulder, shaking her head with disapproval at them and beckoning them to move back from each other. She welcomed the chance to draw a full breath. When she turned back to Archie, his eyes were full of questions, too, even though he’d answered the one he’d raised.

“Damn,” he muttered, settling for hugging her to him and letting her loll her chin blissfully over his shoulder.

“Wow,” she breathed.

They danced all night. He kissed her before she was due to meet her parents outside. He promised to call her.

He never did.

Around and around they went, week after week. Ronnie outwardly agreed it would be fine, and no, it wasn’t too much if she left notes in his locker. Betty didn’t realize why until she went with her mother to the grocery store to pick up some butter for the baked goods they were working on for the PTA. Archie had begged off their movie date. He didn’t see her when he dashed into the store to get a pack of gum and had run back out to his car.

She recognized Ronnie in the passenger seat. Alice asked her why she was scowling like a sourpuss. “I’m not,” she insisted, packing their butter into a sack and ducking into the lot before Alice could count her change. They were gone. Betty felt like a schmuck.

So, she left herself open. Not her options. Her calendar. Betty went on the occasional “date.” Mini-golf. Bowling, which she loved. Pity dates that her dad set her up on with the sons of his friends, none whom she would ever go out with again.

They weren’t Archie. Jughead earned himself a firm pinch when he called her cock-whipped.

“It’s not like that.”
“You want it to be, though?”
“Oh, God, yes!”
“Gads, Betty, TMI! You took me to a bad mental place!”

So, here they were. Betty was dirty and mussed, and Veronica was on top of the ladder letting everyone see her ass in her short, short shorts.

“Bloody great,” she carped under her breath.

“I’m about ready to put the hurt on her. She didn’t do shit,” Nancy replied, handing Betty the paint water jar and dunking the brush she was holding in it, creating murky blue swirls in the liquid. “Where have you been, chica?”

“Slaving away on the arch.”

“Bless your heart! Does it look awesome?”

“Yup!” Nancy squealed and gave her a one-armed hug, steering her around to glance at the posters.

“I made those,” she bragged.

“They look great.” Betty scanned the gym. “Where’s Mister Wonderful?”

“Chuck had to run an errand for his dad and pick up a new set of bases from the sports shop. Left me high and dry.”

“You’ll live. I’ll vouch for you that you behaved,” Betty assured her. Nancy was mussed, too, but still had perfect hair, plaited into tiny, neat cornrows down her back. Faint splotches of craft paint marred her fingers, but her jeans and tee were still neat. She wore the purple twin to Betty’s Keds on her feet, but hers were handpainted with tiny daisies. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and still managed to look fresh and pretty, reasoning that Chuck hated it when she wore lipstick.

“Did you finish that dress?”

“Yup.”

“Got everything else yet?”

“Yup.”

“Gotta date?”

“Of course not,” she sighed.

“Girrrrrrrrrrrrrrrllll…why are you doing this to yourself? You’re so cute, nice, and deserve better than that…whatever that is goin’ on up there,” she snarled, waving her hand up the scaffold at Archie and Veronica as they flirted on, mindless of the fact that they already finished their task. “What’re you gonna do, pine away from him, and then if he doesn’t ask, just stay home and count the ceiling tile?”

“Of course not,” she repeated, this time resigned. “Jughead already decided he isn’t going to be my backup, the turd.”

“So you wouldn’t go with anyone else?” Nancy prodded. “Even if they asked?”

“Don’t fix me up, please,” Betty pleaded. “That’s my dad’s job. Gads, I hate my life. The last one told me I was almost as pretty as his ex-girlfriend but a better cook.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously, though…why not think outside the box? There’s plenty of guys that don’t have a date, who might like to go.”

“None that I want to go with, or know that well.”

“You’re thinking about Juggie. Don’t bark up that tree. How about someone you can go as a friend with? Frankie?”

“He’s going with Maria.”

“Dilton?”

“Cricket’s already snapped him up; I saw them picking out cummerbunds and ties yesterday at the mall.”

“Jinx?”

“Gah! My dress isn’t washable, that wouldn’t work, Nance.”

“Okay…hmm…you’er making this hard.”

“Thanks a lot!”

“Well, how about Reggie?”

“Wait, I think I have something in my ear,” she grimaced, making a show of unplugging it with her pinkie. “Reggie Mantle?”

“Uh-huh.” Nancy folded her arms and shifted her weight onto her hip.

“Reggie who used to pull my hair in kindergarten and call me a goodie-goodie?”

“That’s the one. Used to, now. Remember that.”

“Nancy…eeeww.”

“What’s this ‘eeeww?’ Don’t give me that. He’s good-looking. He has a nice car. And I have it on good authority he doesn’t have a date yet.”

“Bullshit,” she huffed.

“S’true. He doesn’t.”

“Okay. That leaves the question, Why?”

“Last minute thing. He was gonna take Cheryl Blossom. She toyed around with him and this other guy who asked her the day after, then decided that the other guy had a better car.”

“So he can scoop up some other girl. There’s plenty of ‘em waiting in the wings.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.” Nancy peered over Betty’s shoulder and smiled broadly, showing perfect white teeth. “Why don’t you go ask him?” Betty spun around, nearly biting her tongue. “He’s here.”

“Oh, crap…” She was mortified. As though he had heard his name, Reggie turned from where he was setting down some camera equipment and waved over to them, smiling briefly, and in Betty’s mind, without much warmth. He seemed distracted; she followed his eyes back to the scaffold.

Veronica was snuggled up to Archie. Betty wanted to vomit.

“Again, what have you got to lose?”

“My lunch.”

“Attagirl.” Nancy checked her watch. “You’re gonna get up and ask somebody, Betty Bear, clock’s tick-tick-tickin’, y’hear?”

“Gads…”

“Go!”

“Not Reggie,” Betty whispered sharply.

“Fine. But get ready to be disappointed if you’re expecting Tall, Redheaded and Clueless to step up.”

“I’m waiting for him to step down,” she reminded her, smiling as they descended the ladder. Veronica skipped down to the ground and squealed when she saw Betty with Nancy.

“I’ve been waiting for you, where the hell have you been, you brat? Make me wait all day,” she pouted, leaning in for a one-armed hug around Betty’s shoulders and a slurpy-sounding air kiss. Betty snickered as Ronnie rocked the two of them back and forth as they surveyed the gym. “Not bad, if I do say so myself, and I do!”

“Stand-up work,” Nancy snarled under her breath. Betty rolled her eyes as her to stop.

“Betty, I’m headed home, I promised my mom I’d get home in time to help serve her bridge club at six. When are you going to get your shoes?”

“Tonight,” she replied, nodding to Archie as he wheeled the scaffold back to the supply closet. Nancy was right. He was clueless, or he just didn’t give a damn. Then she remembered her dirty dungarees and tee. Shit. She looked like someone’s cousin Boo.

“Betty!” Ronnie whined. “That sucks! I wasn’t going to get mine until tomorrow, I wanted us to go together. Actually…why don’t you just kill two birds with one stone?”

“Which birds would those be?”

“Pick up my shoes?”

“Why don’t you just get them tomorrow?”

“I can’t get away tonight,” she continued, picking at her nail and smiling shyly at Betty, tone cajoling and full of syrup. “C’mon, you know you want to help me. Pretty please, with sugar on top?”

Betty rolled her eyes. Nancy made her best Donald Duck pout behind Ronnie’s back.

“Fine,” she huffed, voice heavy and resigned.

“MMM-WAH!!!” Loud, smoochy kiss. Insincere little dance. More pouting and eye-rolling from Nancy behind her. “I love you, you know that!”

“Oh, I feel loved,” Betty agreed, smiling despite herself.

“Call me when you get back, maybe you can drop them off, I want to model them with the dress for you so you can tell me what you think.”

“I’ll bring my phone so we can take pics.” Ronnie was already scuttling off, ignoring them once she caught sight of Reggie. He was attired casually in jeans like everyone else, but the labels were beyond the reach of most of their pockets; a red and white Hilfiger logo winked out from his hip pocket when he bent to adjust the light stands and test the exposure of that side of the gym. Ronnie came up to him and began flirting shamelessly. Betty scanned the gym for Archie.

He was nowhere to be found. Her heart hitched.

She turned back to Reggie and made her way over, just to be polite. She didn’t know why.

Veronica was keeping him rapt and captive, which he didn’t seem to have a problem with, if the way he was hanging on her words indicated anything. She toyed with her long black hair and gave him “The Eye,” a look that she’d perfected by seventh grade and used to its fullest benefit since. He tucked his hands into his pockets and let his eyes roam over her, taking in the brief shorts and halter top that wouldn’t be appropriate during regular school hours. Veronica was a vision in red and white, from her porcelain skin to her scarlet-painted lips and nails. Dimples winked in and out of her cheeks as she sized him up with her coffee brown eyes. If Betty could envy one thing about Ronnie, it was watching her work a room. She was gifted.

“Reggie, dahling,” she teased, drawing out the syllable. “What brings you here to grace these mere peasants this fine day?” She didn’t include herself with the masses.

“My pop begged me to help him with his stuff. He’s taking the pictures this year at a discount. He went to high school with the ‘Bee. They’re real thick.” Betty rolled her eyes silently.

“You made him beg, eh?” she accused him, finally announcing herself, even though she had been standing there for a while. “Shame on you, Reg.”

“What’s up, Bets?”

“Not much.” There. They acknowledged each other, politely. Briefly. Annnnnnnddddd there he went, back to Veronica. Like always. Like everybody.

“Ronnie…could you come outside for a minute?”

“Why?” She loved doing this, Betty fumed. Playing dumb. And people called HER blonde.

“Just c’mon,” he wheedled, excusing them from Betty. “I’m stealing her from you,” he reasoned.

No, she thought. Not from me. Reggie’s smile was disarming, and she met his eyes.

Nancy was right. He was very good-looking, when you allowed yourself a good look. Tall. Broad in the shoulder, and not too skinny, certainly not as lanky as Jughead. Perfect hair. Perfect teeth. Perfect skin…NICE ass. And, she noticed, hands that suddenly looked pretty big as he gripped Veronica’s and tugged her away. They left, and Betty stooped down to study the camera equipment, pausing when she caught a faint whiff of Reggie’s aftershave wafting back to her. Faintly metallic, slightly citrus, and…undeniably masculine. Hmm. Okay, score one for the cologne.

Not that it mattered that she was keeping score. It was Veronica, two; Betty, zip. Betty made polite conversation with Mr. Mantle as he read the light meters and toyed with the wall switches and spotlights in the ceiling. Archie’s voice nearly made her jump at her elbow.

“Whatcha doin’?” he drawled.

“Nothing. Watching Mr. Mantle play with the cameras. It’s educational.”

“Exciting.”

“Mmmm.”

“Where’s Ronnie?”

“Outside.”

“When did she head out there?”

“A minute ago.” Then she had a glimmer of an idea. “With Reggie.” Well, it was true…

“Oh. Okay.” Archie checked the wall clock, and Betty felt the weight of his sidelong glance warming her. “Bets?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna blow this place?”

“I was gonna run an errand, anyway. What are you doing?”

“Ronnie brought me here,” he admitted, and Betty felt that flush of disappointment wash over her face, like runny egg yolk.

“I could give you a ride, then, if you want,” she offered lamely. “I have to stop at the boutique before it closes.”

“That’s fine,” he agreed amiably. They made their way back to her sedan, and Betty let him in first. “After you, sir,” she teased.

“I thank thee, milady.” Instead of leaning over to unlock her door, he sat there like a lump. She grumped to herself, “Okay, I’ll open my own door, then, don’t mind me, just the chauffeur.”

They drove in relative silence, broken only when Archie began fiddling with the radio. “That’s Ronnie’s boutique where she said she got her shoes.”

“I’m picking those up now,” she murmured.

“Cool.” Yup. He was clueless. She rolled her eyes and parked the car.

“You all ready for the big day, Bets?”

“More or less.”

“Cool, cool.” They walked into the air-conditioned boutique and Betty rang the tiny bell on the counter. Archie looked like he felt out of place in the feminine-looking salon, appointed as it was in tassels and lavender watered silk. “So dude, who you taking?”

Dude. She mentally banged her head against the wall. “I…I don’t know.” He whipped his head around to stare at her and opened his mouth, but Bertie stepped out before he had the chance to badger the information out of her. Betty made the transaction quickly, her cheeks pink and hot under Archie’s silent scrutiny as she asked for her own shoes and accessories and Ron’s pumps. They exited the store, and this time Archie held Betty’s door on the way out.

The air inside the sedan felt charged with something nervous and different. Her scalp felt tight, and Archie drummed his fingers on the armrest.

“Bets?”

“Yeah, Arch?”

“Why don’t you have a date yet?”

“Okay, we’re back at that again,” she mused. She faced him. “Why do you care that I don’t have a date?”

“You’re gonna get all dressed up and hot just to go alone?”

“I’m gonna get dressed up to go and dance, not just to ‘go alone,’ Arch. I’m a big girl. I’ll get to see everyone.” She was still flustered; he said she’s look hot at the prom. She suddenly didn’t know why she was so defensive.

“It’s not the same.”

“Like you’d know,” she accused playfully, even if she didn’t feel that way. A hard lump had settled in her stomach.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Duh. You don’t have to worry about a date, do you?” She turned the car into Archie’s neighborhood, flicking her blinker. “You’re just taking Veronica. How simple is that?” Her prior bravado that she felt when she left her own house had disappeared. It was best to just plunge in, and get it over with. She was already stinging.

“Not as simple as you’d think. She hasn’t said yes.”

“Er…Arch? When you say she hasn’t – “

“I asked her. She didn’t say no. Or yes. She gace me a big fat helping of maybe.” He chuckled under his breath and plowed his hand through his hair, riveting her. His expression was helpless. She’d never seen him helpless. She gripped the steering wheel, fighting the urge to reach over the console and touch him.

“So…what’re you gonna do?”

“Pick up my tux on Friday. My mom ordered my boutonnière.”

“And then what?” She pulled into his driveway, surprised to see the lights on the Andrews’ porch burning, even though the house appeared empty. They eyed each other over the console. Archie’s hand fiddled with the frayed threads around a hole in his knee.

“Maybe you should tell me. You’re the one who’s gonna go to the prom, all ‘Miss Date Undetermined,” so school me on how it’s done.” He eased back in his seat. “The prom’s supposed to kick ass. We used to think it was a big deal. It’s a girl thing, but yeah, I wanna go, too.”

“It’s special. I’ve been dying to go my whole life,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he encouraged. His eyes were soft and warm, and she felt like she could drown in them. “Bets?”

“Yeah?”

“Whaddya say?” Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at him incredulously.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Wallflower