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The Girl Next Door	By : CeeCee Category: Comics > Archie & Co. Views: 4771 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Archies fandom. I'm not making any money for writing this piece of sh- I mean, fiction.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Summary: Reggie sees something from over the hedge that he can’t believe.
Miss Grundy checked her watch again and sighed, frustrated. She made a brief note on her clipboard and scanned the gym. Her other seven squad members looked bored and were resorting to their smartphones and makeup kits for distractions, their pom-poms heaped beside them in splashes of blue and gaudy yellow.
She opened her mouth to call her squad to order, but the heavy swish of the gym door stopped her. Veronica strolled inside without a care in the world, smart phone plastered to her ear. “Can we start now, Lodge?” Miss Grundy called out hopefully.
“In a minute,” Veronica assured her, missing her cheering coach’s attempt at sarcasm.
“No phones in my practice,” Miss Grundy reminded her sharply. The girls huddled around the floor quickly switched theirs off and stowed them away. Veronica grinned and nodded emphatically, holding up her finger to put her off.
“Uh-huh. Yup. Got it. I’ve gotta go. Practice. Cheering practice.”
“Ah, she remembers why we’re here. I’m so flattered.” Geraldine reached into her pocket for a Tylenol melty tab and popped it out of the tiny foil blister, tossing it into her mouth. That Veronica was the culprit every time. Every time.
“Ron,” Betty hissed. “C’mon!” She waved her over furiously. Miss Grundy gave her a stony look. Betty hopped to her feet and ran for her bestie and looped her arm through hers, snatching away the phone.
“HEY!”
“Bye,” Betty told the one on the other end of the call, quickly thumbing the red “End” screen, yanking Veronica along.
“I wasn’t done!” Veronica yelped.
“Miss Grundy,” Betty sang under her breath. Veronica fumed, staring at her like she’d just passed gas.
“Can we start?” Veronica shrugged and turned to Betty, cavalierly snatching her phone back and stuffing it into her large Coach bag.
“I dunno,” she offered. “I’m ready.” Miss Grundy made a small noise of disgust.
“Good. Take two laps. No. Four. Take four.”
“Huh???” Veronica’s mouth dropped open just as she dropped her pompoms and bag beside Betty where she sat on the floor.
“Take a run. You’ve kept us waiting fifteen minutes. The other girls have been here, ready to cheer and practice, and you stroll in without a care in the world, not caring how many people you’re letting down. That’s poor school spirit, Veronica, and not how I run my cheering squad.” Betty’s cheeks burned with embarrassment for her friend. Veronica pouted.
“That’s not fair! I was just finishing a call, and it was important!” Betty inwardly sighed.
Darn right it was important. She saw “Archie” on the small touch screen before she ended her best friend’s call so abruptly, hearing the popular redhead’s familiar tenor calling out Ron’s name in confusion and protest. Betty didn’t feel too guilty about interrupting their mushy-gooshy chat, after a fashion, but she hated to see her get in trouble.
Envy still stung her with its tiny needles. Why couldn’t Archie call her?
Veronica snarled and kicked her pompoms across the floor, but she obeyed Grundy, starting her first lap around the basketball court. Miss Grundy sighed and passed out the cheer sheets.
“We respect each other on this squad. There’s no place on it for drama or to put yourself ahead of your teammates, is that understood?” She was greeted by low yeses and nods. Betty heard a low buzzing coming from Veronica’s bag. Gingerly she lifted up the strap to peer inside. She saw the glow of the touch screen, lit up with a text message.
“Where did u go?”
Of course it was Archie. Betty sighed and dropped the strap.
She knew Archie had to be stealing time away from his own practice if he was messing with Ron. He’d made the JV team as a sophomore, and as quarterback, no less. That made him an even bigger prize in Veronica’s eyes. Betty was merely thrilled for him that he even got to play. Cheering tryouts had been brutal; she mentally thanked her mother for paying for so many years of gymnastic classes for her. She’d screamed out loud when she saw her name on the list on the bulletin board two weeks ago, right under Veronica’s. Everything had been a constant blur since then of fundraising to pay for uniforms, car washes, baking cupcakes… Betty was exhausted, but it was so worth it.
Workouts found her staggering into her house under the weight of her loaded backpack, pompoms dragging, aching in muscles she didn’t know she had. Just as exhausting as practice, though, was spending that much time with her bestie. Veronica had Betty on speed dial, something that should have honored her, but it was a time-consuming commitment, and Veronica was needy. Betty was her wardrobe consultant, shopping companion, on-the-spot pedicurist, walking, breathing diary, and chick-flick companion. Greater than those burdens was the changing dynamic of their friendship, namely the newest element of rivalry.
They both liked the same boy.
It complicated things. Most girls were thrilled to tell their best friend all the details of their crush: how they caught them staring; notes passed during math; brief moments of bumping into them accidentally, or even intentionally; leaning against lockers and chatting about nothing until the bell rang; exchanging numbers and continuing the same chatty drivel from the privacy of the bedroom, music turned on to mask it if the conversation drifted through the door. Betty walked that fine line every time Veronica said Archie’s name. Her cheeks burned every time, and she felt a hot rash of prickles run down her back, wanting so badly to shush her. Veronica’s dark blue eyes grew dreamy every time she mentioned him, and Betty recognized that look from her own mirror. It frustrated her.
The redhead did that just fine, too, if she had to be honest. Betty always felt a tongue-tied rush of awkwardness every time he turned to find her staring, and once he acknowledged her, her mouth ran on autopilot. Take that morning, for instance, at the water fountain.
She’d bent down for a long, thirsty drink before third period gym class. She felt someone sidle up to her, seeing a shadow from the corner of her eye.
“You gonna be long?”
“Huh? MMMPHH! GACK!” Betty sputtered as she ended up squirting herself in the nose. She jerked upright and flew backward, accidentally bumping into Archie, who was trying not to laugh.
“She doesn’t always drink water, but when Betty Cooper does, it’s with her nose,” Archie teased, mimicking the Dos Equis commercial.
“Shut up,” she snickered, hating the cold sting in her nostrils, wiping her face on her sleeve. “Help yourself,” she offered, waving him to it.
“Sure? You’re all done?”
“Knock yourself out.” Archie shook his head and bent down for a drink. Betty silently eyed him, admiring the view from behind. Okay. It wasn’t a wasted moment, after all. He straightened up and licked his lips; her eyes tracked the gesture, glued to them.
“What’ve you got next?”
“Huh? Oh. Me? Uh… gym. I’ve got gym. Pretty much.”
“I hate having it early. Gotta go to class all sweaty for the rest of the day.”
“Heh. Yeah.” Betty wasn’t looking forward to that, now that he’d mentioned it, but what could she do? “What do you have next?”
“Spanish,” he shrugged. “It’s not my favorite.”
“Why not? It’s fun!”
“Eh. I suck at it. I hate conjugating verbs.”
“It’s easy,” she insisted.
“Maybe for you, Big Brain. You sound like Dilton.” She mock-frowned at him and pretended to swat him; he danced back out of reach, grinning.
“Thanks a lot!”
“It’s not an insult. I didn’t say you looked like Dilton.” His blue eyes crinkled. Betty hugged her books to her chest, enjoying the attention. “You definitely don’t.”
“Um, yeah. Thanks, Arch. You’re a pal.”
“Always there for a friend.” Betty flinched, then sighed.
“I could help you with your Sp-“ Her offer was cut short when Veronica rounded the corner and practically shoulder-checked her out of the way.
“Archiekins!” Her fingers curled in his rugby shirt collar and pulled him in for a possessive, blatant kiss; Betty heard his exhale of surprise and low whimper of approval, and she backed up, flushing furiously. Wow.
That sucked.
Veronica let him up for air. “I waited for you,” she pouted. “You said you’d meet me in the courtyard.”
“I was late. My car’s radiator overheated.”
“Why don’t your parents just get you a new one?” Veronica wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That thing’s a heap.”
“At least he has a heap,” Betty chimed in. Archie smirked for her benefit, but Veronica ignored her.
“Guess I’m just gonna have to haul him around,” Veronica shrugged. “Call me,” she told him pertly, giving him a brief peck. He pulled her back for two more, and Betty longed to gag. They held hands in that funny little couply way, with her index finger curled around his pinkie. That was Betty’s cue to leave.
“See ya.” She darted off, cutting off Veronica’s attempt to chat.
“Wait up, Betty!”
“I’m late!” The bell rang, to her relief, so she wasn’t a liar.
Yeah. That was her day. In a nutshell.
All things considered, Betty couldn’t feel too badly for her best friend having to run laps. She hadn’t been the loser that day.
*
Betty rode home on her skateboard, blonde ponytail whipping out from beneath her helmet. She enjoyed the last of the autumn sunshine, and the warm air felt good rushing over her bare legs. Betty loved the grind of the wheels against the blacktop. Even though she had her license, her parents didn’t have it in their budget to get her a car yet. There were worse things, she mused; Veronica “hauled her around,” too, from time to time in her green Jeep Cherokee. Veronica was upset that the Benz she’d begged for wasn’t waiting for her in the driveway draped in a big pink bow on her sixteenth birthday, but Hiram reasoned with her that he wouldn’t have her driving a fifty-thousand dollar car and parking it in a public school lot every day. It was too great a temptation, and his insurance premiums were high enough.
She kick-pushed her way down her block, feeling the burn in her calves. She was lost in her own thoughts until a car horn blared behind her, nearly startling her off the curb.
“Shit!” she hissed. She pulled up short and skidded, stepping down to the pavement. She caught Reggie’s grin over the edge of his door. He had the top down and acid metal pumped from his speakers. “Seriously?” she demanded. “Don’t do that!”
“What? You didn’t hear me coming?” He nodded to her. “Get in. I’ll give you a lift.”
“I’m only six houses down,” she pointed out dryly.
“Seven. Don’t forget the Millers. Hop in, already.” Betty rolled her eyes and rounded the car, startling slightly as he revved the engine, teasing her.
“Jerk.”
“You’re welcome.” Betty climbed in and reflexively ran her hand over the leather seat.
“Must be nice,” she murmured.
“Not bad, huh?” He nodded to her skateboard, smirking at the Hello Kitty stickers on the bottom of the deck. “Styling, there.”
“I thought so,” she sniffed. He guided them smoothly down the block and pulled up in front of her house.
“Milady.”
“You’re too kind, sir.” She got out and curtsied, gently closing his door.
“Could have given you a ride home if you’d asked in the first place, y’know. I live right next door. Had practice right outside where you were. I know it’s a shot in the dark, Bets, but that’s called ‘a convenient opportunity.’”
“Didn’t want to take any liberties, buddy.” Betty unfastened the strap on her helmet and dangled it from her fingertips. “Gotta save those convenient opportunities for the ones who might need them. Like Cricket. Or Maria. Or Dolores. Or Ginger…”
“Okay, okay, wait a minute…” He looked taken aback, and Reggie turned down his stereo. “Slow down a second there, Betty. You sound like the fun police. Are you telling me I run around?”
“Yes,” she said automatically. “You know that, right?”
“Well… yeah. I knew that. I just wanted to make sure that’s what I was hearing. Just surprised to hear that from you.”
“Why? It’s obvious. Why would it sound any different coming from me?”
“Because you don’t run around,” he accused. “You’re the poster girl for ‘safe.’” Betty wanted to hit him.
“I think we just figured out why I didn’t put you out of your way before by asking you for a ride home.” He smirked again, a wicked little curl of the corner of his mouth.
His mouth. His top lip was beautifully notched, thin and sharp; the lower one was slightly plump, almost begging to be tasted…
She inwardly slapped herself. Her mind didn’t just take her there. He nodded at her outfit.
“Isn’t that skirt a little short for riding a skateboard?”
“No, and be quiet, you’ll hurt its feelings,” she sniffed. “Beast,” she pronounced, and she turned up her front walk, fishing in her purse for her housekey. Reggie enjoyed the view and decided to ruin her perfect exit.
“Nice red panties, by the way, Cooper.”
“They’re not red, they’re pink! Wait… what?”
“Gotcha,” Reggie informed her, making a little shooting motion with his finger and blowing off imaginary smoke. “Later, Cooper.” He chortled as he drove off, enjoying her look of annoyance and confusion in his rearview mirror.
It was so much fun to get a rise out of her.
*
Archie fiddled with a few chords on his Gibson, plucking the strings with a shiny green pick. He reclined back on his bed with the guitar saddled across his lap, pillowed tucked behind him comfortably and a plate of Oreos sitting on his side table. A few crumbs floated in his half-finished milk. His muscles still hurt from football practice, and he had his guitar lesson in half an hour. He stared guiltily at his school books; he’d end up pulling an all-nighter for sure.
Still, it was shaping up to be a great year. Archie glanced at his photo of Veronica, staring back at him from a bronze frame. Her smile was casual but radiant; the shot was a black-and-white taken outdoors at the beach for her portfolio. Here’s looking at you. XOXOXOXO – Ron. The words were scribbled in her feminine script, using one of those weird little silver ink pens that his mom liked for scrapbooking. She’d given him one of herself fully dressed, something he’d had mixed feelings about asking her for, but he knew his mother would interrogate him if Veronica gave him a bikini shot.
He had a girlfriend, wealthy, high-maintenance, occasionally dramatic, and mind-numbingly beautiful. It was exhilarating, yet… exhausting. Archie’s free time was at a premium. His phone was full of texts from Jughead complaining that they never hung out anymore, but it couldn’t be helped. Not that Jug was much help, though, in helping him sort out his myriad feelings about Veronica.
Or worse, the burgeoning feelings he felt for Betty Cooper.
It wasn’t intentional. They’d been friends forever, since kindergarten. Betty lived on the periphery of his earliest memories as the “good girl.” Just one of the guys. The tomboy and the teacher’s pet. Betty was transparent and easygoing. Where he hung on Veronica’s every word, Betty listened to him. It was just… nice. Betty was nice.
She smelled fresh, like Head and Shoulders and Lady Speed Stick. She wore a bare minimum of makeup, because she didn’t really need it. She was a great dancer, out in the center of the gym with her friends for every fast song and a patient good sport on the sidelines through the slow ones, casually sipping a soda and fiddling with her phone. She was a girl’s girl, never the leader of the pack, and never one to flake on her friends. Betty was popular without being a bitch. Archie sighed… one small strike against Veronica.
Archie scanned the other distractions in his room. His eyes landed on the slim yearbook from Riverdale Junior. He picked it up and automatically cracked it open to the eighth grade class, one third of the way through, skimming through the C’s.
Betty’s pert smile blinked up at him. Archie returned it with one of his own.
How could he not be torn?
*
The opportunity for a more solid decision, in Archie’s mind, at least, came sooner than he expected.
Betty hurried out of homeroom at final bell, all set to rush to practice. She retrieved her pompoms from her locker and checked her reflection briefly in the little magnetic mirror inside. “Ugh,” she muttered as she straightened her bangs. She was just digging into her purse for some lip gloss when her phone vibrated up at her. “Ronnie” blinked up at her from the touch screen. “Uh-oh,” she mused. “That can’t be good.”
“I feel like hell,” Veronica announced miserably as she slid the bar to answer the call. “Tell Miss Grundy I went home. It can’t be helped. Must’ve been something I ate.”
“It was goulash day,” Betty pointed out. She’d wisely settled for her tuna sandwich she’d packed and a vitamin water.
“I never wanted to know what the inside of my stomach looks like. I still don’t wanna know.”
“Ooh. Wow. Sorry, V. I’ll tell Miss Grundy you’re gonna sit this one out.”
“I don’t wanna get cut.”
“If you’re sick, you’re sick. I’ve got your back.”
“You’re the best. Love you, BFF.”
“Love you, too. Go to bed. Did you get all of your assignments?”
“I don’t know if I’ll even make it tomorrow,” Veronica moaned.
“It’s okay. I’ll check in with you tonight, okay?”
“Gonna be sick…” Betty could almost hear her friend’s stomach gurgle, and she winced.
“Ooh. Yikes. Bye.”
“Bye!” The “End” screen flashed up at her, and Betty stowed her phone. They weren’t going to practice pyramids today, then. Betty made a couple of stops on her way to the gym. She caught up with Professor Flutesnoot and Miss Haggly to gather up Veronica’s assignments and jot them down. She didn’t have Ron’s locker combination, and Betty hoped that she already took all of her textbooks home.
Miss Grundy stared at her expectantly when she showed up in the gym. “Where’s your partner in crime?”
“Sick as a dog,” she explained. “She’s definitely under the weather.” She turned to Ethel, who silently mouthed “Cramps?” Betty shook her head and made finger-down-the-throat motions and held her stomach for emphasis. Ethel nodded in understanding and sympathy.
“Okay. We’ll cut her some slack. Ladies, go ahead and line up!” Grundy clapped her hands and blew her whistle. The next hour and a half was a blur of mat work and tumbling and shouting until Betty was hoarse.
She made use of the leaky shower and refreshed her deodorant, slicking her damp hair into a ponytail. She glanced in the mirror and pronounced herself just decent enough for a trip to Pop’s for a root beer. Ethel offered her a ride, but she declined.
“Nah. I’ve been riding my board these past few days. I like a little wind in my hair while it’s still nice enough out.”
“Sounds fun. Next time I’ll bring my blades,” Ethel decided easily. “Heading home?”
“No. Pop’s first, then Ron’s, then home.”
“Don’t catch what she has.” Ethel wrinkled her nose.
“I think it was just something she ate.”
“Bet it was the goulash. Beazley needs a new recipe book.”
“I might bring her some ginger ale.”
“Good idea. Ron’s lucky she has you.” Ethel almost wanted to say “too lucky,” since the friendship between Ron and Betty, both her friends since childhood, often seemed a little unbalanced. She liked Betty too much to voice that opinion.
“I’d want someone to do the same for me. Catch you later, E.”
“Later, Bets.”
Betty hopped on her board and cruised out of the lot, earbuds plugged in and her little iPod Nano pumping N.E.R.D. and Pharell into her consciousness. The roll of the ball bearings in her wheels created a counter rhythm to her tunes as she skated through patches of dappled shadows over the pavement. The angle of the sun began to change, making her wish the day didn’t have to end just yet. Her backpack felt heavy, reminding her she had two quizzes to study for and a three-page book report to write.
History repeated itself when she heard a car horn blare in her direction. “Shoot!” she yelped as she nearly tripped off her board. It was like the universe had it in for her this week…
“BETS!” Archie cupped his hand around his mouth and called out his passenger window as he pulled alongside her. “Where you headed?”
“Pops for a bit, then Ronnie’s. Are you going to see her?”
“She told me not to,” Archie admitted. “Said she felt lousy.” Betty tried not to look surprised. “Don’t want to go where I’m not wanted.”
“It’s only temporary,” Betty assured him quickly. “I’m only going to drop off her homework.”
“You’re going to Pop’s first?” Archie brightened with interest. “Hop in.”
“Oh. You’re sure?”
“Hurry up before that light changes,” Archie admonished. Betty stepped off her board and hustled into the car before the light turned green, closing the door with more force than she intended as he pulled away from the curb.
“Sorry.” Archie accelerated slightly, and the car made a strange cranking sound when he changed gears. “That sounds ominous.”
“Ol’ Betsy needs a tune-up.”
“Old Betsy?” Betty laughed in delight. “Classic! Nice.”
“She is a classic,” Archie bragged, patting the dashboard. “Don’t hurt her feelings.”
“I wouldn’t dare. She’s yours, right?”
“Exactly. For better or worse.” The car was a little beater, but to Archie’s credit, it was an old sixty-nine Mustang. Its tomato red paint was slightly patchy, and the upholstery was threadbare, but it was still a comfortable ride. Slightly stuffy, though, Betty noticed. “You might want to roll down the window. The radiator overheats, so I have to drive with the heat turned on.”
“All the time?”
“Yup.”
“Wow.”
“At least it runs.” He nodded to her helmet and board. “Nice Hello Kitty.”
“I think so.”
“It’s… sporty,” he pronounced. She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m not hating!”
“Sure you aren’t!”
They rode along a while before Betty noticed they were headed the wrong way. “I’m headed to Pop’s.”
“I know. Let’s hit Ron’s first, and you can give Ronnie her homework.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble if she already said not to come.”
“It’s not like I’m going inside,” Archie reasoned, shrugging. “You are. I’m just your ride.” Betty was relieved. She knew Veronica wouldn’t want Archie walking in on her when she was indisposed, sick and pasty.
“We’ll make it brief.”
Archie pulled into the large circular driveway, and Betty hopped out quickly, bringing along the little notepad with her homework written on it. Smithers let her in before she even rang the doorbell.
“Miss Lodge said no visitors, Miss Cooper. My apologies.” The older butler looked contrite. Betty smiled and handed him the notepad.
“This has her homework on it. I just wanted to make sure she has what she needs if she’s fine by tomorrow.”
“You’re a lovely friend, Miss Cooper. She’s fortunate to have you.”
“Tell her I said to get well soon,” Betty told him as she hurried away. “Bye, Smithers!”
“Good evening, Miss Cooper.” Smithers returned her wave, then shuddered in distaste as he eyed Archie’s horrid little jalopy. He ignored the redhead’s grin and brief wave.
“Heya, Smithers!” Smithers shook his head and closed the door on them, content to go about his duties, namely bringing his employer’s daughter some clear soda and saltines. Archie ground his gears again and off they went. Betty fought the futile battle with her hair as it kept whipping around her face and into her eyes. It was still fun, though, somehow, riding in a car with a boy.
She just wished he was hers.
They chatted easily on the way to the Choklit’ Shoppe, and Betty felt flushed being in the confined space, conscious of every time his hand reached for the gearshift, once even briefly grazing her knee. She shivered, and butterflies took wing in her belly. She knew it wasn’t intentional, but it felt… yummy. They parked out front, and Betty fed the meter. “You didn’t have to do that,” Archie chided her.
“It’s the least I can do.” They headed inside, and Archie held the door, and she shivered again when she felt his hand brush the small of her back.
“Counter?” she suggested.
“Booth.”
“There’s my favorite girl,” Pops called out. “What’re you doing hanging out with this bum, Elizabeth? He’s nothing but trouble!” Betty giggled.
“I’ll vouch for him, Pop.”
“The usual, kiddo?” He leaned over and swabbed the table with a damp dishcloth, shining it up as he handed them each a menu.
“Just a regular root beer this time.”
“What’s ‘the usual?’” Archie inquired.
“A float, but-“
“Make it two,” Archie told Pop. “With a basket of fries.”
“I wasn’t planning on much,” Betty insisted, especially since she wasn’t sure if Archie was planning to pay. That hadn’t been her intention, and it would be rude to impose.
“So, it’s a change in plan,” he shrugged. Pops nodded and took their order on his little scratch pad.
“Sounds like a plan. Out with it in a minute, kids.”
“Thanks,” Betty called after him brightly. She flushed under Archie’s gaze.
“How was practice?” he asked her.
“Oh. Hm. Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Brutal, actually.” He snickered.
“Me, too.”
“How are you liking it, though?”
“Pretty stoked. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. But every night when I come home, I’m just… dead.” She giggled at the way he tipped his head back and let his tongue loll out of his mouth like a corpse.
“Tell me about it. I’m just excited. I love cheering. I’m so stoked that Ronnie and I both made it on the squad this year.”
“Laverne and Shirley,” he teased.
“What?”
“That old show. My mom used to watch it. You guys are like those two,” he said thoughtfully. “You’re definitely Laverne.”
“Isn’t she the goofy one?”
“They’re both goofy.”
“Wow. Thanks.” She tossed a straw at him. He threw it back, and his eyes crinkled again. Hers flitted away for a moment, and when she looked back up at him, his smirk widened into a grin. He needed to stop doing that. Betty wondered if a person really could die from embarrassment, or blush themselves to death.
“You’ve got more freckles.”
“Ugh. Don’t tell me that. I get more every summer.”
“What’s wrong with that? They’re cute.”
“Pffft… I dunno. On you, maybe. I never liked mine much.”
“You should.”
“Duly noted, Archie.”
“So. Is that offer still on the table to help me with my Spanish?”
“I guess it never really left the table.”
“Can I borrow your notes?” Betty gave him a look of mock disgust.
“Might help if you actually took some in class, Arch.”
“I was tired from practice yesterday. Had to catch up on my beauty sleep.” She shook her head. “Not really. I know yours are better than mine, though.”
“I’ll make you a copy.”
“You rock. You rock out loud.” They were interrupted by two foaming root beer floats and a steaming basket of fries arriving on the table between them. Pops set down two long-handed spoons and a bottle of ketchup.
“You kids need anything else?”
“Nope. This looks great, Pops,” Betty beamed.
“Sure does, Pop.”
“You’re both welcome,” he nodded fondly. “Dig in.”
Their conversation slowed as they ate. Betty savored the float, lapping up a runnel of ice cream foam that ran down the side of the glass. Archie’s eyes tracked the movement of her lips and flick of her pink tongue. His loins heated up and his jeans felt tight. “What?” she pressed. “Do I have something on my face?”
My mouth, in a minute. “No. You’re fine.”
“Sure?” His lips twitched.
“Wait… I missed it before. There. Look, I’ll get it…” He reached out, and before she could stop him, he reached down and grabbed one of her fries that she’s already dipped in ketchup and dashed it against the tip of her nose. “Wait, I missed it!”
“You goof!” she yelped, and she giggled, swatting his hand away. She cleaned away the smear with her napkin.
“There’s still some there, I’ll get it!”
“I don’t trust you!”
“You wouldn’t trust this face?” He gave her a brotherly smile, right before dipping his finger into the creamy foam of her soda and painting that across her nose, too.
It was all-out war. By the time Archie paid the tab, Betty’s skin was sticky with root beer, and Archie had salt in his hair. Pops shook his head at them as they left, and Betty was secretly relieved he hadn’t thrown them out.
*
Archie pulled into Betty’s driveway just as the sun began to set, and she regretted that time had flown by so fast.
“Thanks for the soda and the ride.” She reached for the door handle, struggling with it slightly.
“It sticks. Wait a minute, I’ll help you,” he said. Archie let himself out and rounded the front of the old Mustang, jerking open her door with slight effort, but he welcomed her out with a flourish. “Milady.”
“Kind sir,” she teased, earning her a crinkly smile again. He had dimples, she noticed, and his summer tan was slightly mottled, typical of someone who naturally freckled. She reached for her board, but he took that and her backpack for her. She dangled her helmet by the straps as he walked her to her door. Betty fished in her purse for her keys. “My mom’s not back yet, so I have to start dinner. Thanks again, Archie-“ She went to take the backpack from him, but instead of handing it to her, he set it down on the porch along with her skateboard. “I can… take… that…” Her voice drifted off, and her heart did a little flip as his hands slipped around her narrow waist and pulled her gently against him. “Archie,” she murmured, but that was all she managed before his mouth brushed over hers, teasing it with a kiss that made her forget her own name.
Betty’s heart pounded and her senses went into overload, filling with his scent and heat, craving the slowly tightening grip of his hands. She whimpered as his lips coaxed her to respond, and they instinctively caressed him back, pleading for more. Her fingers crept up to his nape, combing through the soft red locks.
Alarms went off in her head. This was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. This was Archie.
This was Archie.
Her best friend’s boyfriend.
She came up for air, and her breath shuddered out with a string of babbled excuses. “Wow. Oh, wow. I’d… better go. You’d… you’d better go, too. Thanks again.” Betty reached for her things, unable to take her eyes off of him, and she felt her cheeks go up in flames. “Gotta study. Gotta make dinner.”
“Bets-“
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Yup! Tomorrow!” She stumbled backward in through the door. “G’night!”
“Bets!” She closed the door on him, locking out the sight of his confusion, and, she noticed, the slight glaze of misplaced desire. She locked the door and walked away from it, heart pounding as she headed for the kitchen. She paced and fretted.
What did she just do?
Caramel came out of hiding and meowed insistently. Betty yelped in surprise. “GAH! Shoot! Don’t… DO that!” Caramel leapt back, flicking her tail in surprise. “Sorry, girl.” She heard Archie’s car pull out of driveway, grindy sounding gears and all, and she sighed in relief. “Kitty, I’m in SO much trouble.” The ginger tabby merely purred for her dinner, winding herself around her legs.
*
Reggie held his breath and backed himself flat against the wall as he eavesdropped on his neighbor and football rival’s chat. “What the heck’s Carrot-Top doing here?” he muttered. He was bound to wake the whole neighborhood, driving Betty up to her house in that piece of rusted crap.
Reggie watched them from just over the hedge that separated their properties. Betty was grinning at Archie like she was twelve, something that both amused and annoyed Reggie. He saw him let Betty out of his car, being a perfect gentleman, but there was something cheesy about the gesture, somehow…
It was the right thing to do for a girl, but it was expected to do that for your girlfriend. They were standing pretty close… perhaps too close.
Betty was blushing. Reggie knew that blush, something she’d fine-tuned with him over the years when he managed to get her goat, but she was giving Carrot-Top that look. “Uh-oh. Oh, no. Bets, don’t!” he hissed. He saw the kiss coming before she did, and he longed to stalk across the driveway and drag Arch back to his piece of shit car by the scruff of the neck. “Shit,” he swore. “Bad idea, Cooper.”
The kiss lasted just a few seconds too long; Reggie felt Betty’s embarrassment sharply, saw the hint of regret mingled with desire painting her features as she hurried into the house. Yet he saw how hungrily she kissed him back, how hard it was for her to let him go.
Damn.
That wouldn’t do. That just wouldn’t do at all.
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The Girl Next Door