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Elective	By : CeeCee Category: Comics > Archie & Co. Views: 3061 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Archies fandom. These characters belong to Archie Comics. I make no money from writing this piece of sh- I mean, fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Summary: Moose is a gentleman. Ethel is more popular than she thought. And Jello shots are stronger than they look…
Author’s Note: So, an update.
I revised this chapter substantially once I realized a few things:

The story went in darker directions than I wanted it to, and I was telling a story I didn’t originally intend, namely of Ethel becoming a victim. And it wasn’t fair, because I love Ethel. She’s a sweetie.
I painted myself into a corner. In my original chapter four, Ethel is basically attacked at a party while she’s tipsy. In the real world – and yes, this IS fanfiction, I get it – she wouldn’t just walk off into the sunset with her knight in shining armor and everything would be hunky-dory. That didn’t feel genuine once I went back and did a re-read.
I had no way of continuing this that wasn’t just Ethel pressing charges against her attacker, because HELL YES, SHE WOULD HAVE.
Melody is a little bit goofy, but I think she would have good enough intentions and be protective enough of her roommate not to let her too far out of her sight. Ditto for Kumi. I didn’t give them enough credit when I wrote the first draft.
It was triggering. I didn’t have any warnings, and it was VERY TRIGGERING.
So, a revision. This tweaks Chapter Four from the second half forward and a big patch of Chapter Five. A sixth and seventh chapter will follow once I revise, because I will have left myself a path out of the corner without tracking through my fresh paint.

To anyone who commented on this fic at ALL, thank you SO, SO MUCH. This fandom doesn’t have a lot of fiction or art based on the secondary characters, and when it does, they seldom get ANY traffic or feedback. It’s been fun talking to people offline and in the comments about their head canons and opinions about Ethel and Moose. I love this pairing. So, here we go.

*

Ethel swayed to the music, knowing her ears would be ringing in the morning. The second likely culprit would be the innocent looking Jello shots, which she’d lost count on after five. She felt deliciously tipsy, things she normally would have found annoying became hysterical, and Stan Gold was looking better than she remembered from the light of day.
At some point, the crowd began dancing in the yard, no easy feat for Ethel with her pointy little heels. They inevitably ended up perched on the patio, wrapped up in Stan’s hoodie. The cool grass tickled her bare feet, and her throat was hoarse from laughter. Everything around her was a warm blur, and every time she looked at Stan, his smile was knowing and smug; he raised his eyebrows in amusement at half the things she said. Ethel wasn’t certain if that was a good thing, but she decided to just go with it.
She felt his eyes all over her, and it was unnerving… yet thrilling. Her cheeks felt warm and the strange flush of male attention was completely foreign to her. So this was how it felt, she mused. Betty, Veronica, Nancy, Midge… all of them were used to being ogled and admired in passing, earning whistles and cat-calls, giving out their cell numbers and Instagrams to interested males. Jughead treated her like an afterthought for as long as she remembered, and she did so much for him to get so little in return. He never made her feel this ticklish excitement.
Then again, it could just be the alcohol…
Stan was all right, she decided. Her dorm mates circulated around the party and periodically checked up on her. Kumi winked at her and gave her the thumbs-up in passing, initially. She caught up to her later as Ethel exited the rest room from freshening up. She had blotted her throat and chest with cold water to calm the angry flush of blotches and to revive herself, fanning her feverish cheeks and straightening her hair. Her scalp and nape sweated and made her hair slightly flyaway; strands and tendrils kept working their way into her eyes or mouth every time a strong breeze blew or when she was outside dancing.
Kumi was waiting outside the door and stopped her, lightly clasping her elbow. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” Ethel grinned. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with you? And with him?” Kumi inquired. “Where do you know him from?”
“Work. Class,” Ethel clarified. “He draws me.” Kumi nodded, then sobered.
“Oh, shit. You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” Ethel chuckled, shrugging in exaggeration. “THAT class.”
“Girl, you’re crazy. Be careful, okay?”
“It’s no big *hic* deal,” she insisted, gently rapping herself between the breasts with her fist to clear a burp.
“Had a few?”
“More than a few. Feelin’ fiiiiiiine,” she emphasized. Ethel swayed slightly on her feet. Kumi reached for her again instinctively.
“You’re tore up.”
“Yup. No pain.” She couldn’t feel her teeth.
“You okay to hang out with him? Want to head back to the dorms with us when you’re ready to go?”
“I came with Melody and Val. I figure I can go home with them.”
“I think they’re headed out now, actually.” Ethel looked confused.
“Oh. I figured they were going to be here longer.”
“Josie said she and Val have a long drive tomorrow to New Hampshire. They’re headed out in about an hour.”
“Okay. I’ll figure it out.”
“I’ll just stop to come get you. Unless you decide to let Tall, Dark and Fratty take you back, but if you’re not sure about him, come find me,” Kumi advised. “I want to make sure you get back safe and sound!”
“Yes, ma’am!” Ethel saluted her in goofy fashion, mock-stern expression in place.
“Hey,” Stan murmured from down the corridor. “Wondered where you were hiding.” Ethel smirked.
“She got lost,” Kumi joked.
“I’ll have to keep a better eye on her,” Stan suggested, winking back. He reached for Ethel’s hand and tugged her along with him, making her blush all the way up to her forehead. She grinned over her shoulder at Kumi, and Kumi shrugged and winked.
That was how she ended up back in the yard, dancing like a fool. She didn’t realize how many people were watching her, commenting on the leggy newcomer in their midst. Melody watched her from behind her drum kit, occasionally swigging from a sweating water bottle as she played up a storm. Josie wailed a cover of No Doubt’s “Spiderwebs,” followed shortly by Nirvana’s “Come As You Are” and “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”
“Look at her go,” Melody giggled beneath the cacophony. It was great to see her loosening up a little. That wasn’t the same Ethel who showed up the first day at their dorm in a peasant dress and Birkenstocks. Stan wasn’t leaving her side, either. That was awfully fast, Melody thought, noting how his hands slipped around her waist somewhat possessively… then again, maybe he was just trying to hold her steady. Ethel was listing a little to the side.
Mel wasn’t the only one who noticed. Moose peered at them over the edge of his Solo cup, leaning against the frame of the patio door. He heard Ethel’s frequent bursts of laughter. Her body was relaxed as she danced, but she was beginning to slump a little against Stan for balance, telling him she’d had more than enough to drink. Her cheeks glowed, and her smile was bleary, but cute. Moose relaxed slightly when he saw Stan’s lips moving, telling her Suit yourself instead of pressing the issue.
He remembered her from school dances at junior and senior high, frequently occupying the bleachers, definitely a wallflower. Every slow song found her slinking off to the periphery of the floor, idly sipping a paper cup of Coke and toying with her phone, looking envious and bored. Moose remembered the feel of Midge’s hair tickling his lips as they slow-dragged around the floor, her warm curves plastered against him with her throwing occasional smug looks at her friends over her shoulder. It had always been like that since they hooked up. Midge and Moose. Moose and Midge. He enjoyed the convenience of never lacking a dance date or someone to snuggle with at the movies on a Friday night. What had it been like for Ethel?
And why the hell was Stan being so grabby? Moose narrowed his eyes as Stan tugged Ethel against him, getting awfully familiar and whispering something in her ear. He saw her mouth “What?” before he leaned in again, pausing in dancing with him for a minute. Old trick. His hands roamed her lower back as he spoke. Moose felt annoyed at his lack of thought for personal space.
“What’s goin’ on there?” Ambrose demanded, nodding to him as he came out to join him, nursing a half-finished Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.
“Ethel, pretending she told her parents she was going to a slumber party,” Moose commented dryly.
“Out after curfew, wearing the naughty outfit under the parent-safe one and putting on the makeup in the car?”
“Bingo.”
“She looks cute.”
“She looks cold,” Moose countered. Ambrose leveled him with a look. “What? You see that tiny dress? It’s like a handkerchief.”
“Suuuuuure.” Ambrose took a pull from his bottle. “You sound a little concerned.”
“She might catch the sniffles.”
“Looks like she’s taking applications over there to help her warm up.”
“Fuck off.”
“Yup. Figured as much.” Ambrose chuckled. “You like her.”
“It’s Ethel. Get out of here with that shit.” But Moose felt annoyance rising, unsure if it was toward Ambrose or himself. Because, maybe he needed to give her a little more credit.
“Let’s see… you’ve been parking it over here, watching her all night, you’re getting pissed off that Stan’s over there making a move-“
“They’re just dancing.”
“That’s a move he’s making there, my friend. You’re kidding yourself and me if you think they’re just having a friendly chat.”
“So?”
“Been making the rounds since you got here?”
“More or less.” He’d given up on mingling other than girls occasionally approaching him and gushing to him about his game on the football field. It still felt weird being openly flirted with; the attention was nice, but he didn’t see anything he wanted on the menu.
Except long, graceful limbs and tight little curves barely covered by a tiny white slip dress. Ethel’s long, narrow face seemed softer with the makeup and flippy hair, and her gray eyes had a sparkle that Stan apparently put there, something that chafed him. Stan was leaning in toward her again, his fingers brushing her hair back from her ear so he could murmur something into it again. Moose fumed.
“Right. I’ll just leave you to your stalking while I get a refill. Want anything?”
“Nah.” He’d barely started his second one. It tasted like paste on his tongue.
“Might creep her out if she catches you staring too long.”

“I’m not staring. I’m watching.”

“Right. I’m getting creeped out. Later, bro.”

“See ya.” Ambrose escaped back to the kitchen, invading a conversation about UFC with enthusiasm. Moose nursed his black thoughts and continued his vigil on the patio. The Pussycats began another set after a round of drinks and a few nibbles from the snack table. Melody brushed past him briefly, then stopped, poking him in the side. Moose yelped and his beer cup splashed a little over the rim.

“Hey, you! Why aren’t you out there having fun?”

“I’m having fun,” he argued, shrugging.

“Not here, Blondie Bear,” she chided him, grinning. His brows flew up into his hairline. Blondie Bear? That was new. “Oh, wait… Ethel said you go by Moose?”

“Yep.”

“That’s so cute!” she informed him, scrunching up her nose as she poked him again.

“You can really bang those skins,” he told her, wanting to make decent small talk. She was dingy, but nice enough and a distraction from the scene out in the yard.

“Aw, that’s sweet!” Her voice had a funny sing-song quality, and when she was amused about something, it grew slightly shrill, but Ethel was right. Melody had a puppy dog quality about her that you couldn’t dislike. He wanted to pat her on her overstyled, platinum blonde head. “So, what’s up? No date?”

“Nope.”

“Why aren’t you talking to Ethel?” she demanded, folding her arms beneath her breasts, letting her drumsticks stick out.

“Uh…”

“You should talk to her. You know each other from high school, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Elementary school, actually.”

“Wow. That’s like your whole life, and now you’re in college together. It’s like, fate, or something. You’d have tons of stuff to talk about!” Melody babbled on. “Did you guys know you were going to the same school this fall?”

“Nope.”

“Wow! That’s a trip. It’s a small world.”

“Where are you from, again?” he asked politely.

“Midvale. The Pussycats played gigs all over town, and we played Central City and Pembroke once in a while, too. We didn’t end up in Riverdale too often, but there were a couple of venues we liked.”

“Venues?” he inquired. “Like where?”

“The Garlic Festival,” she told him. “Moe’s Coffeehouse. Segharini’s.”

“You call those venues?”

“Hey, a gig’s a gig,” she sniffed, poking him in the ribs with one of her sticks. “Don’t knock it. Anything to get our name out there.”

“What else are you planning to do with your band?”

“Record and tour, one of these days. I still want to go to school, but we’ll see how that pans out.” She wrinkled her nose. “I wasn’t really into high school, but my parents wanted me to try to get a degree.”

“What’s your major?”

“Undecided!” she told him proudly, sappy grin in place. Moose silently clapped his hand over his mouth in a slow face-scrub, then nodded with feigned interest. “Well, actually, it was music. I don’t know. I want to perform, but I don’t want to teach it.”

“You could do both,” he suggested. She gave him a girlish look of wonder.

“You think so?” Moose shrugged.

“Why not?”

“God, you’re right. You’re smart. Now I know why Ethel likes you,” she insisted. “I’m gonna go get a jello shot. You want one?” Moose almost choked on a sip of beer. He flushed furiously and tried to compose himself.

“Uh… nah. I’m good.”

“See ya!” she chirped, and she switched off, costume tail swinging with her bombshell strut. Moose stared after her, wondering what the heck just happened.

“Likes me?” he muttered aloud. “Geez…” That redirected his attention to Ethel, who, to his consternation, was snuggled up to Stan, huddling under the crook of his arm. Oookaaaaaay… that was enough of that. He tossed back the rest of the beer and crushed the cup, chucking it into a large trash barrel. Moose propelled himself from the doorframe and headed for the yard. He felt his pulse quicken for a moment as he approached them. Stan nuzzled her ear. That tore it.
“Hey.” He sidled up to Ethel, flanking her other side and rocking on his heels as they surveyed the yard. Ethel looked up at him blearily, questions in her gray eyes.
“What’s up?” she asked cheerfully.
“What’s up with you two?” he countered.
“Hangin’ out. Listening to the band,” Stan informed him dryly. His smile was tight and forced, but his eyes practically shouted Fuck off. He tightened his arm around Ethel, who peered back at him, confused at being jostled. He grinned down at her, and she gave him a loopy grin back.
“What’s up with you?” Ethel inquired of Moose. He looked cute, but she was puzzled by his annoyed look, staring daggers at Stan. But his face relaxed as he met her gaze, and Moose shrugged.
“Mingling.” Ambrose’s words were helpful at moments like these. “Um, Ethel… can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Huh? Oh. Like, now?”
“Yeah. Now would be good.” Moose reached for her wrist and gently, but insistently tugged her out of her cozy nook. Stan released her reluctantly, but Ethel turned back to him and mouthed Give me a minute. Stan nodded and watched them retreat a few yards, then disappear into the house.
“Um, where are we going?”
“Not far,” Moose offered. She stumbled slightly to keep up with him, thankful that she also had a long stride. They wove through the party guests and headed for the back hallway. Moose backed away from random couples and escaped with her into a darkened, empty room. “Ethel, how much have you had?” he asked once she gently closed the door and faced him.

“Eh. A few shots.”

“A few. Like, one or two?”

“A few,” she shrugged, but that motion knocked her slightly off-balance, and she stumbled into the wall. “Oof…” He reached out to steady her, clasping her arm in his large, sturdy grip.

“You’re a lightweight,” he muttered. “Stan’s getting kind of close, isn’t he?”

“I dunno. I guess,” she replied, then hiccupped. “Geez… there I go again. *hic* Ugh… what’s the big deal?”

“So… is he hitting on you?”

“I don’t know. Is he? You tell me.” She chuckled and punched him in the arm. “What’s the big deal if he is? You’d know better than me. Why?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you been watching me?”

“No,” he lied hastily. “Still… just seems like you got kinda cozy with him pretty fast.”

“I didn’t ‘get cozy’ with him,” she argued, but her cheeks flushed again, and she pulled away from him, staring at the floor and crossing her arms. “You make me sound like a tramp.” It was Moose’s turn to stammer and blush.

“That’s not what I meant, Bee! Don’t make me sound like a dick!”

“You’re doing that all by your lonesome. And don’t call me that. I hate that. I don’t want anyone else knowing what everybody called me when we were kids. I’m not ‘Big Ethel’ anymore. I never wanted to be.” Her voice was vulnerable, and when she looked back up at him, her eyes were pissed off. “That’s probably all I ever was to you, wasn’t I?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Ethel… look, you’ve had a few. I’m just looking out for you. How are you getting home tonight?”

“I got here on foot. I came with friends. And why is everyone asking me that?” She thought back on Kumi’s offer. “I’m not walking home from kindergarten, Moose. I’m a grown woman. I can make it back home from a party.” Her chin tilted stubbornly. “Or Stan can take me.”

“Or I can take you,” he countered.

“Did you take your truck? How many have you had?” she pried. She knew she sounded bratty, but it was a fair question. She hated the idea of him getting into a wreck or a DUI.

“I walked, too. And I hardly drank anything.”

“Why not?” she pressed.

“Not in the mood.”

“It’s a party. Let loose. Have a good time, Moose. I am.”

“I can see that. Don’t get carried away, Ethel.”

“I’m not,” she told him indignantly. “I’m fine.”

“Did Melody talk you into that dress?”

“Maybe. But I like it,” she insisted.

“That’s fine. I like it, too. But don’t let Stan talk you out of it.”

“Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa… what’s that? Come again?” She planted her hands on her narrow hips and shifted her weight to one leg, the image of defiance. “What’s your deal? You’re not my dad!”

“Nope. I’m not as drunk as you, either.”

“I’m not *hic* drunk,” she tossed back.

“Um. I rest my case.” Moose sighed. “I’m not trying to-“

“Yes. You are.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“It might be better if you didn’t. What’s all this protective stuff? Why are you so concerned? It’s no big deal. Stan’s just being friendly. I’m just being social. There’s no problem here. It’s a party. I had a few. I’m out past curfew. And you,” she told him, poking him in his broad chest with her finger, “heed to lighten up and have a good time, like me.”

Her words triggered a reaction she never expected, and it was immediate.

He closed his hand over her pointing one, curling his fingers around it and flattening it against his chest. “What?” she squeaked as she watched his blue eyes dilate, watched his other hand drift up to her jaw, and with the lightest of touches, tipped it up to him as he brushed his lips over hers in a tender, searching kiss. Ethel’s moan got lost in the sweet, warm rush of his breath misting over her lips and of the liquid heat of that contact. She felt her eyes drift shut and her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, and her heart began to pound, cold sweat and goosebumps assailing her. The kiss was a sliding, velvety caress that made her tingle everywhere, and she could smell the heady, masculine scent of his cologne, warm skin, and male pheromones.

This was how it felt. It hit her like lightning, the oft-wondered question, how it felt to kiss someone out of brazen attraction. Whether she would do it right. How it would taste. How it would progress and where she would place her hands. They decided not to heed her commands to stay down at her sides. His throat felt firm and hot, and her palm smoothed over the plane of his jaw, discovering sandy stubble.

It ended too soon. His hands pushed her back abruptly before she even registered that they were circling her waist. “What?” she squeaked again.

“No. Uh-uh. I’m sorry. Sorry, Ethel. I… I’m sorry.”

“Why?” she asked impatiently, moving toward him again, but he backed off, looking flustered. His eyes flitted away from her, and he sighed loudly.

“This wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Why?” she repeated.

“Ethel. You’ve had a few. I wouldn’t want you to think this was a bad idea in the morning.”

“Morning’s not that far away,” Ethel mentioned. “Technically in another half an hour.” He noticed the digital clock’s scarlet display in the dark and sighed. “If it’s a bad idea, then why did you do it?”

“I… I guess… just… you… I had to. I wanted to,” he hedged. “Don’t be mad.”

“Only if you stop,” she complained. She hugged herself and stared into his eyes, chewing on her lip.

“Ethel.” He shook his head, and the awkwardness, mingled with unsatisfied arousal, hung between them like a line of dirty laundry. “It was wrong of me to do that.”

“It was wrong. For you to do that with me.” Her eyes and voice flattened, and Moose swore to himself.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Sure sounds like it from here,” she threw back. Ethel turned on her heel and yanked open the door, making her escape.

“Ethel!” he snapped. “Aw, c’mon! Don’t…!”

“Go mess with someone else’s mind,” she muttered loudly, stalking down the corridor and weaving through the crowd, drawing a few stares. Moose followed her at a more sedate pace, imagining that he could see steam rising from her as she left. Her gait was sharp, long, and pissed, posture stiff and remarkably upright for someone full of Jello and vodka.

“Ethel,” he muttered. “Damn it!” She was heading back to the kitchen, out the patio door…

… straight back to Stan, who pushed himself up from the side of the house as soon as she entered his sight. His arm snaked back around her, and Moose knew it was a lost cause. Stan glanced up briefly and caught his eye, then shrugged at him.

She was lost to him, because he wouldn’t take advantage of her. Moose growled under his breath. That hadn’t gone well…

Stan nuzzled her ear again, and she saw her make the universal gesture of I’m cold, rubbing her arms in exaggeration and bouncing a little on her feet. Stan held out his hoodie to her, letting her shrug into the floppy sleeves, and he tugged her back against him, arms locked around her waist. They both went back to listening to the band, and Moose decided he’d seen enough.

He made terse, brief goodbyes and stalked out the front door. Ambrose looked up from a UFC match on the plasma screen, making watch-checking motions at him and throwing up his hands. Moose shook his head and waved back, done for the night. Ambrose watched his large silhouette shrink as he headed back toward the main campus, booking it as fast as his long legs would take him.

“Shoot,” he muttered.

*

Stan brought her another shot of lime jello, even after she begged off. Her tongue grew numb to the alcohol, and it slid smoothly and coolly down her throat. The sounds around her were muffled, despite the cacophony of chatter and blaring television in the house, and the continuing concert out back. She saw Melody, flushed and wild-haired behind the drum kit, and she admired her stamina. She rocked to the music, and she felt Stan behind her still, arms resting around her waist. The pressure over her abdomen was almost annoying, and she was growing too warm.

“I need a minute,” she told him, gently prying herself loose.

“What?”

“I need a minute,” she shouted back over the noise, and she hated how bitchy her voice sounded to her own ears, but she felt stifled.

“You okay?”

“Fine. I’m okay.”

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“Just inside for a minute.” She didn’t remain to share any details, and she made a beeline to the bathroom again. Ethel circumvented the same people in the corridor that didn’t appear to have moved. She nodded to Kumi, who was ensconced on the couch beside a beefy soccer player named Mike. Ethel was pleased; he seemed decent, and her friend looked content. All the more reason why she wouldn’t hassle her with a plan to go home with her, Ethel decided.

She made it into the bathroom, thankful it was unoccupied, and she locked it behind her before making a mad dash for the commode. She managed to yank down her tiny bikinis and plop herself down in the nick of time. The hiss of her urine stream momentarily drowned out the other noises, muffled through the door, and Ethel’s temples seemed to thrum with pressure.

“I’m drunk,” she realized, leaning her elbows against her knees and propping up her head. “Wow. Wow, oh, wow…” The floor seemed to spin, and she remembered belatedly what Melody had told her once about making sure to hydrate enough throughout the night. She’d had maybe a sip or two of plain water at some point in the night, but not enough to dilute her buzz or help her equilibrium. She rose, flushed, straightened herself, and staggered to the sink.

She was still broken out in red blotches from the contact – the kiss – with Moose. “What was that all about?” she asked the mirror. “What the heck was that?” No answers were forthcoming as she washed her hands and blotted her heated face with a damp Kleenex. Her eyeliner was slightly wrecked from sweat, making her look slightly scary. “Ugh…” She eyed Stan’s large hoodie, realizing how silly she looked in its baggy folds with her dainty white dress, like she was wearing her big brother’s clothes. She took it off and decided she was reaching her limit for the night. She was thirsty, her feet ached now that she was back in her heels, and Ethel was ready to pack it in.

She wasn’t expecting Stan to greet her as she walked out, and he automatically took her hand.

“Hey.”

“Just making sure you didn’t get lost,” he told her casually. “You better?”

“Uh-huh. Here’s your sweatshirt.” He glanced down at it and gathered it in his fist before he pulled her along with him toward the end of the corridor, away from the party. “Um… where are we headed?”

“Nowhere special. It’s loud,” he pointed out to her. She nodded in agreement.

“Hot, too,” she told him. They turned left and entered another dark, unoccupied bedroom.

“Um… okay.”

“It’s cooler in here,” he offered, and Stan closed the door behind them, releasing her for a moment to cross the room and crack open a window. Ethel sighed in relief; the rest of the house felt stifling with the crush of so many bodies taking up the space.

“It’s cool outside, too,” she mentioned helpfully. Stan smirked, then joined her on that side of the room, chucking his sweatshirt onto a nearby computer chair.

“It’s loud, though. Nice to get away from the noise.”

“Stan… it’s getting late,” Ethel suggested.

“It’s early, for morning,” he shrugged, taking her hand, and Ethel felt a moment of panic. She wanted to kick herself for what she’d told Moose earlier. Karma was a bitch.

“I’m pretty torn up, Stan, and I’m feeling a little tired-“

He made a little pout of disappointment. “Aw. Tired already?”

“I kind of am.” She winced a little for emphasis.

“There’s a bed right there,” he told her, easily resolving her complaint.

“Well… it’s not my bed,” Ethel reminded him, just in case it needed clarifying.

“Dorm beds suck,” Stan told her, pulling her to him. He took her hands and rubbed some warmth into them, and it was a comforting gesture, even though Ethel’s stomach was full of butterflies. It was strange, being in a boy’s room, not something she was used to at all. “You look good in clothes, you know that?”

“Stan! That’s goofy. And, you said that already. Look, I’m not in great shape for this…”

“Well, it all depends on what you think ‘this’ is,” he told her.

“Uh. Well, it’s me… in here with you. In your bedroom.”

“Oh, yeah, it is. Whaddya know,” Stan joked, and he gave her fingers a little squeeze. Ethel was still nervous, feeling herself flush.

“So. Do you have party guests here a lot?” Ethel searched for something to say that wouldn’t make her sound completely deficient. It was strange, and she felt a little sick, and he was looking at her with a mixture of amusement and something she didn’t recognize, almost…

…like Archie looked at Betty. Or at Veronica. Or the way Moose used to look at Midge, that face of longing, like he wanted to eat her up, with that slow smile and that light in his eyes-

“Party guests? Eh,” he shrugged. “You still cold?”

“I’m okay.”

“It’s funny seeing you outside of class,” he admitted again, chuckling. It brought out his dimple, but… maybe her buzz was fading a little. He was cute, but, Ethel wasn’t sure that he was getting her motor running. His touch was gentle when he reached up and smoothed back a bit of her hair from her face that trailed through the remainder of her lipstick.

Panic alarms went off in her head. NonononoNO! It felt awkward, and her skin was buzzing with awareness of him, of being really close and of his touch feeling more intimate than it had in the back yard. Because this wasn’t her. This wasn’t what Ethel usually did, it wasn’t a situation she found herself in on any given day. This was odd, to have someone who seemed like they were attracted to her, hanging on her words, looking at her like… oh. Leaning in toward her, until she felt warm breath misting over her lips.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Uh…I don’t know.”

He backed up, brows drawing together for a second, but still smiling. “No?”

“I don’t… well, maybe. Just… one?”

Stan huffed, chuckling. “Just one? For educational purposes?”

Ethel giggled, then nodded, eyes ducking away. “Well. Yeah. It would be educational.”

Because her curiosity would be satisfied, finally, to know what this felt like. That hint of excitement and anticipation of letting someone who was chasing her - her - catch her. For just a second.

“C’mere,” he husked, giving her hands a little tug to bring her in, and she felt her abdomen bump against his, her dress a too-thin barrier between them. She felt the rough scratch of his denim waistband and copper button graze her, and his hands crept around her waist, warm but not overly insistent. Ethel had no clue where to put her hands, and she let them hover over his chest for a moment, unsure of whether to back out and push him back, but she thought, why not? She wanted to try this. It couldn’t hurt.

It… was okay. It was all right, if she was being honest. Stan’s lips were a little dry, and he tasted boozier than Moose, and she wondered if she wasn’t opening her mouth enough, because Stan seemed to like a more forward approach to kissing, more openmouthed and damp, and his teeth grazed her lower lip, which was a little weird. She tried to follow along, but she kept second guessing herself, wondering if she was tilting her head the right way, if he liked this. God, this is weird.

He pulled away, and their lips made a slight smacking sound as they disengaged. Ethel wondered if she looked dazed. Stan saw something in her face that made him shutter and make a decision.

“Well. That was interesting.”

“Um. Yeah, it was-“

“Hey, Ethel, how are you gonna get home?”

“I… my friends, I think.”

And it was like a dash of cold water, but some of the fog cleared from Ethel’s brain. Stan’s abrupt change in attitude made her self-conscious, but she also felt a wave of relief. The kiss wasn’t bad, but, it also wasn’t Moose.

That was when it hit her.

Stan wasn’t Moose.

The realization that she was attracted to Moose Mason dawned on her with such clarity that she didn’t notice when Stan began gathering up his wallet and keys. “Do you want to wear that home?”

“Huh?”

“The sweater. If you’re still cold, you can give it back to me tomorrow, Ethel, but it might be good if you keep it on while I drop you off.”

“Drop me off?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna walk you home. C’mon. Your roommate’s gonna miss you.”

Ethel wondered briefly what the heck happened, and if she should be insulted, but that was followed by the thought of “I’m going home!!!” and that steadied her feet. She walked a less crooked path down the hall, then straightened up even further when Stan looped his arm through hers. It felt companionable and silly, and she can’t imagine how they must have looked, but she laughed, accepting multiple goodbyes from Stan’s fraternity brothers as they slowly wove through the crowd in the living room toward the front door.

*

Moose stopped at the campus rec hall, open all night and relatively empty. He nodded to the RA at the front desk, who was flipping through an issue of Maxim and listening to Pharrell. He went to the shuffleboard table and lined up the discs on the table. He rubbed one in sand, lined up his shot, and sent it skimming down the deck. It clacked it too forcefully, sending it all the way off the table and into the slot. Moose put less “oomph” into his next shot, this time making the disc stop about a foot from the edge. He lined the discs back up and took a few more turns, still fuming about the night’s events.

Moose still didn’t know what came over him, what made him make that kind of move. Ethel was his classmate as long as he could remember, just another girl down the block. Gangly. Skinny. Awkward. Nerdy. Obsessed with Jughead, who couldn’t claim otherwise himself. She’d always hovered on the periphery of their circle of friends, someone he hardly noticed, for the most part, all the way up to commencement night. The most they had exchanged was a handshake, then a grudging, back-slapping hug when she suggested, “See you at the ten-year reunion!” It had become real for him, at that moment, that it was really happening, that they were all moving on.

She’d terrified him with that knowledge. Moose wanted to cling to the familiar, didn’t want to release the safe harbor of his high school memories and friends. There were too many unknowns in the real world, and it made him feel unbearably small, of questionable purpose.

But he saw a different side of Ethel. He couldn’t say it was even “new,” because even after so long, he didn’t truly know her. The surface things, certainly, those weren’t difficult to fathom. She wasn’t athletic, even though her height earned her suggestions of trying out for basketball on a daily basis. She had a thing for sunflowers. She had great school spirit. She always munched on strawberry Pop Tarts, furtively nibbling them bits at a time from where the wrapper was hidden in her backpack. She had the hots for Needle-Nose. She loved to dance and showed up at every football game. She was the best student in home ec, next to Betty Cooper.

But… just seeing her out for the night, mingling… flirting. He couldn’t explain his own reaction to it, beyond the tight gut and his mouth growing dry at the sight of her, caught up in a surge of protectiveness toward her, and the magnetic, instant attraction to her vulnerability. Ethel wasn’t like Midge, or any of the other popular girls he remembered. Her face was open, and her emotions were transparent as glass. She didn’t play games; then, Moose considered, maybe she didn’t know how.

On the other hand, considering her rapid beeline right back to Stan, maybe she did know.

His musings were interrupted by the shrill, breathy voice at his elbow. “Hey!” He jumped, startled into messing up his shot. The disc thwacked off the border of the table, and then ricocheted into the slot. “Oopsie,” Melody told him apologetically. She leaned against his arm. “Whatchadoin’?”

“Chilling,” he replied. “Winding down.”

“Got an early day tomorrow?”

“Nah. Might hit the gym, though.” Provided he woke up before lunch.

“Sounds groovy!” Melody agreed happily. “I might see you there. I’m gonna do abs and butts. You ought to come to Zumba class with me one of these days.”

“Pass,” Moose told her patiently. “Thanks, though.” He lined up another disc and sent it sliding down. Without being asked, she did the next one, neatly knocking his disk off the edge and stopping just shy of the edge. He stared at her, agog.

“That wasn’t nice!”

“Your turn,” she countered sweetly. She went to retrieve the discs. “So, where’s Ethel?”

“Huh?” Moose stared at her blankly as she pressed one of the discs into his palm.

“My roomie? Tall as you, dark hair? Looked smokin’ HOT thanks to yours truly?” Melody inquired, enjoying the opportunity to brag. Moose frowned, and her features mimicked his. “Wait. She didn’t come home with you?”

“Uh-uh.” Melody paled. “I thought since you were here, Ethel was home.” Moose felt his blood run cold.

“She wasn’t anywhere in sight when I left. I heard Kumi saying she might walk her back.” The light went on in her blue eyes, and Moose felt relieved when Mel took out her smartphone in its hot pink Hello Kitty, blinged-out case and rapidly tapped the touchscreen, skimming through her contacts with one long, manicured nail. “C’mon, Kumi, pick up,” she muttered. Moose’s fist balled itself at his side and his mouth was tight. Breathless seconds went by as Melody waited for her friend to answer. “Kumi,” she said finally, impatiently, “where are you? Are you still at the party?” Moose heard the voice on the other end faintly, confirming that yes, she was still at the mixer. “What about Ethel?” Melody frowned. “I said, what about Ethel? My roomie?” Moose didn’t realize that his heartbeat had quickened until it skipped when Melody pronounced, “What do you mean she just left?” She made a gesture of What the hell? at Moose, throwing up her hands and scowling. Moose felt a frisson of panic. “She left with who?”

“Who did she leave with?” Moose asked coldly.

“Stan?” Melody quoted loudly.

“I’m gone,” Moose grunted, not waiting for Melody to finish the call. He heard her rushing after him on her absurdly high heels.

“Wait up!”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to get her.” Melody ignored him, finally pausing to hop somewhat ridiculously, breasts jiggling, out of her heels. She then darted after him barefoot, soles slapping the pavement as she caught up to him.

“I’m so fucking dumb,” Melody cried. “I just assumed she was going with Kumi! Don’t hate me?” she implored him. She looked upset, and Moose squeezed her shoulder briefly.

“It’s all right. I’m an ass, too.” He stalked back across campus, as quickly as he’d walked home. His temples throbbed and the cold night air burned his throat, already clogged with worry.

Granted, maybe Stan was just walking her home, but he couldn’t shake the urge to check. She might end up telling him he was worried for nothing, or being an ass. But, what the hell.

*

Stan and Ethel stopped briefly at a nearby convenience store that had questionable looking hot dogs rotating on the metal rods of an oven that looked like it hadn’t been properly cleaned since 1985. Stan told her he was thirsty, and he automatically grabbed two water bottles and a small pack of travel-sized Tylenol.

“I get the feeling you might need these,” he told Ethel as he swiped his ATM for the bored, pimply clerk.

“Thanks,” she murmured shyly, and she made a dismayed sound as she caught her reflection in the store mirror, and the stark lights inside were cruel and too honest. She looked a complete mess, skin flushed, eyeliner smudged and her hair sticking up here and there. She was still swaddled in Stan’s too-big hoodie over her dainty dress, and her walk could only be called a stagger at this point. Ethel wanted bare feet and PJ bottoms five minutes ago.

Stan opened her bottle of water and handed it to her, and Ethel took several greedy gulps. Her head started to clear a little, but she still felt a bit of her buzz left.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Sure, Ethel. Hey, where do you live?”

“Dorms. DeCarlo Hall. Top floor in the women’s wing.”

“Didn’t want the co-ed floor?”

“Uh-uh.” She didn’t want men seeing her first thing in the morning on her way to the showers in her Hello Kitty boxers and before she put her makeup on. “I like it up in the ‘Nunnery.’”

Stan laughed. “So did my ex-girlfriend. I was glad to get out of the dorms after I was inducted.”

“Must be nice.” Sometimes it was hard to be in such close quarters with an entire flock of girls, with so much noise and chatter and drama. But at the same time, after a couple of weeks, Ethel didn’t feel as much like an outsider. She wasn’t worried about being unpopular, or wondering the way that she used to that the other girls in the locker room were staring at her, noticing that she lacked their curves, that she was tall and skinny and pale and no one’s cup of tea. But this was different. Melody helped to change her perspective a little and accepted her.

“What made your ex an ex?” she inquired, hating the faint slur in her voice, but at least she was coherent.

“Eh. We had fun, but we wanted different things.” But his voice was wistful, and Ethel got the impression that he still wished things hadn’t ended quite yet. “She wanted to see other people. No point in trying to make someone stay with you if they wanna be somewhere else, right?”

“God, I know,” she agreed, and she thought back to Jughead. The Futile, Fruitless Struggle. It was so embarrassing in hindsight, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that… maybe there were other fish. Or at least the occasional fish who would make her feel cute and interesting. Ethel fought the urge to ask Stan if her kissing was sub-par. He’d moved her out the door pretty abruptly, and her ego was taking a hit, but at least he was a gentleman.

“Hey, Stan? Was I being a little too forward earlier?”

“No, no,” he assured her. “That… no. You weren’t. Um.” Stan threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “You’re really nice, Ethel. You are. And, I know you had a little to drink tonight, but I also get the feeling that you were weren’t really into it?”

“Oh, God. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I had fun. It was fine, hanging out with you and everything.” His eyes were warm, and that made the knot in her chest ease a little. “I was just getting little ‘Maybe This is a Bad Idea’ vibes from you. The vibes don’t lie.”

Ethel laughed outright. “No. They don’t. God, I’m just… I’m so mad. You’re cute, and you’re nice.”

“It could have been a train wreck.”

“Ouch!”

“Hey, I’m not being mean!” he insisted, but they were both laughing, and Ethel snuggled into him, glad that he wouldn’t read anything into it.

“No, but do you have to be so damned honest? Stroke a girl’s ego a little, Stan.”

“You’re one of the cutest girls I ever decided not to have an ill-advised one-nighter with?”

“O…kay. Okay. I can accept that.” Stan grinned and gave her another little side-hug as they strolled across the campus lawn. “I think. Hm.”

*

Moose and Melody both trotted up the steps to the porch, and Moose shoved his way past a couple that was lingering in the front doorway, Melody hot on his heels. Ambrose looked up in confusion from a cute brunette that was hanging on his words and sipping a light beer. “Yo. What’s up, bro? Why you back?”

“Never mind,” Moose grumbled, shaking off his hand on his shoulder. Ambrose frowned, then followed them at a slow lope as they hurried through the frat house. “Where’s Ethel?” he heard him ask one of the frat brothers where he lounged on the futon.

“Who?”

“Tall girl in a white dress. Was outside earlier.”

“Where’s Stan?” Melody clarified, taking a different tack.

“Hey, where’s Stan?” he called out, but no one replied. “Maybe try the yard?” They both hurried out back, and Moose’s eyes scanned the back yard. The instruments were gone, which he expected with Melody back on campus – and now with him - but Ethel was nowhere to be found.

“Not good,” he muttered. He turned back, fuming, and stomped back into the house like a bull in a china shop. “Have you seen Ethel?” he asked a couple of other random guests.

“White dress. Skinny. Dark hair,” Melody grilled along with him.

“Bathroom, little while ago,” a petite, dirty blonde piped up, cracking her gum. “She was with some guy in a baseball cap. Brown hair. Didn’t see them come back out of the house.”

“That way,” her companion nodded, toward the back of the hall. The girls watched them with speculation as they retreated.

“Thanks.” Without permission he headed back, knocking on a closed door to his right. He tried it, then muttered “Sorry!” to a couple taking advantage of the late hour, temporarily robbing them of their privacy. He slammed it shut and kept moving.

“This is probably rude,” Melody suggested.

“Don’t care,” Moose barked.

“Okay,” she said meekly as she dogged his footsteps. He tried the next door. Empty and dark. There was one more on his left before he reached a stairway. He knocked on the door and waited for breathless seconds before knocking again. Moosehe promptly banged on the door, roughly jiggling the lock, and Melody looked uneasy.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” asked Bill, one of Stan’s other housemates. “What’s up?”

“Where’s Stan? And Ethel?” Moose demanded.

“And where’s Ethel?” Melody pressed.

“Dude, I don’t think he’s even in there.” He tried the knob, giving it a firm turn. “Shit. There. Don’t wig out, man. He’s not even here.”

The light from the corridor flooded the cluttered bedroom, illuminating the pennants and posters on the wall. Moose and Melody peered inside, and both of them sagged in frustration.

“Fuck,” Moose muttered. He’d thought the worst.

“Hey, guys,” called a familiar voice, and Melody looked up and saw Kumi waving them over. She was leaning up against the wall, nursing a water bottle and a handful of pretzels. “What’s going on? Are you looking for Ethel, still?”

“YES!” Melody cried. Kumi jerked back in surprise.

“Kiddo, chill. She’s fine. Stan was walking her home. You guys must have missed each other.”

“What?” Melody felt hollow relief.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. They were on foot.”

“Geez,” Moose muttered.

“Okay. No more banging on doors in the house, right?” Bill challenged.

“No. We’re good,” Moose assured him. “Shit…”

“I know,” Melody agreed. “Let’s go. I want to make sure she actually makes it back.”

That set Moose back on track.

“I’m coming, too,” Kumi decided. It couldn’t hurt to have one more set of eyes laid on Ethel to make sure she made it from Point A to Point B. All three of them felt a teeny bit guilty that none of them had walked Ethel home. It chafed.

*

“I’m never wearing these shoes again,” Ethel groaned.

“Please reconsider,” Stan suggested. “They look killer.” He was still eyeing her legs appreciatively, but that ship had already sailed.

“They’re killers, all right.” Ethel walked inside the lobby.

“Need me to see you to your door?” he inquired.

“No. I’m good.”

“Drink another one of those and take the Tylenol,” he said, nodding to her water bottle.

“I’m going to feel like crap tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“You play, you pay,” he shrugged. “Water tomorrow. Eat a big breakfast. You’ll be good as new.”

The RA at the front desk eyed them. “Hey, guys, if you’re visiting, you have to sign in.”

“I’m just leaving,” Stan insisted.

But before he could make good on that promise, Moose, Kumi and Melody burst in through the swinging glass doors. Ethel looked up in surprise.

Moose. Wow. His face looked worried, lips tight and his posture stiff as a board. He also looked enormous, chest expanding with a deep breath as his eyes fell on Stan. His fists clenched at his sides. Melody and Kumi both looked relieved, and Kumi was even slightly pissed.

“I was going to walk you home,” she scolded Ethel.

“Stan walked me?” Ethel explained, hating the uncertainty in her voice. Why did she feel like she was making excuses to her mom and dad for breaking curfew???

“Hi,” Stan said blandly, saluting the three of them. “And bye. That’s my cue. Ethel, I had fun.” Stan nodded at Moose, and his lips twisted. “She’s all yours, big fella,” he muttered as he left, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed. Moose still looked hot under the collar, and his head swiveled around to watch him leave, not content to look back at Ethel until Stan was outside and several yards away from the front door of the dorm.

Then he pinned Ethel with an accusing gaze. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey.” Her voice was small and a little confused.

“You made it back.”

“Yeah. I’m headed upstairs.” He noticed the water bottle in her hand, and that smoothed his ruffled feathers a little.

“Sign the guest register if you’re visiting,” the RA repeated, wondering why her residents didn’t seem to be able to follow simple directions.

“I should probably go-“ Moose was flustered, but Ethel made up her mind. She stepped forward and caught his arm.

“I think we need to talk?” she pleaded, and her gray eyes searched his face. Her hand was soft. He noticed with annoyance that she was still wearing Stan’s sweater, since he’d been in too big of a hurry to leave to ask for it back.

“Sign in,” the RA urged, holding up a pen for emphasis.

After some deliberation, Melody signed Moose in as a guest at the front desk, where he showed the stern RA his student ID card. They hustled up the back stairs, Ethel looking the worse for wear, but she didn’t stop to spare anyone an explanation. The corridor on their wing was darkened already, and Melody keyed the lock to their room.

Ethel dug into her dresser for a large, roomy tee, her old high school gym shirt. She shrugged into it while Moose turned his head abruptly away. He heard the shifting of fabric and the plop of her dress hitting the floor, then the swish of it landing in the wastebasket beside her desk. Melody pouted but said nothing. “I’m decent,” Ethel informed him a moment later. When he looked up, she was garbed in the gym shirt and a pair of loose flannel PJ pants. Her breasts were unfettered by a bra beneath the tee, making him realize that the dress had a built-in bra. He tried to ignore them, reminding himself that he’d seen her without clothing before, anyway, but not when she was vulnerable, emotions raw, like an open sore.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Your makeup’s on its last legs,” Melody pointed out. She began rummaging in her makeup case for wipes and cold cream. She tugged Ethel to her bed and sat beside her, legs folded, and she began the process of wiping off her roommate’s makeup. Ethel sighed beneath her roommate’s ministrations.

“Your face is all greasy and sweaty,” Melody told her.

“I know. I’m sweating vodka through my pores.”

“Ew.” Melody made a face. Moose watched the two of them uncomfortably, straddling Ethel’s desk chair and lowering himself onto it. He let his huge hands dangle in front of him, and his shoulders still felt tight and hunched from the stress of worry. Ethel was safe and sound, but spending the past hour, thinking the worst, took a lot out of him.

“So. You followed me home,” Ethel began. Melody backed away, dropping the wipes into the trash.

“Right. That’s me, getting out. You two talk.”

“Do you mind?” Ethel gave her a pleading look.

“No worries!” Melody sang, giving Ethel’s shoulder a comforting pat. “I’m gonna go meet Val! We still have that gig tomorrow.” And with that, she swept out the door, letting it slam without catching it on her way out. Ethel winced; the sound made her head throb a little. Nothing like the hangover before the hangover. Ethel sighed and sagged back against the wall behind her bed, letting her legs trail off the end of it. She folded her arms beneath her chest and stared at him.

“So, what’s the deal?”

“I mighta got a little worried.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t. Or that I shouldn’t.” He threw up his hands. “I just wanted to look out for you, okay?”

“Okay, I guess. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Guess not. Sorry.” He felt awkward and frustrated, and she was looking at him incredulously, and he wondered how he could come out on the other end of this conversation without her thinking he was a doofus.

“It’s okay. I was just kinda surprised. I didn’t expect you to worry. I mean, it was nice.”

“Oh, glad you think so,” he scoffed, huffing and folding his arms over the top of the chair. His cheeks were burning, and Ethel chuckled at him. She looked wan now that her makeup was off, but she also looked more like he was used to, approachable and simple and soft. Comfortable. Her body was still having an effect on him, all long limbs wrapped up in thin flannel and cotton. Ethel pulled her hair back with a small black elastic, sharpening the bones in her face and making her eyes look large.

“So, why did you kiss me?” she asked him.

Moose sighed, then shrugged. “Because. I just… because. I-I wanted to, I guess. I know it seemed weird-“

“Not that weird,” Ethel corrected him gently. “It was just a surprise.” Again.

“Yeah. Guess it was.”

“Moose? Um, I know I’m not your usual type.”

“I don’t have a type,” Moose said, taken aback.

“Everybody has a type,” she argued. “Like Midge. All cute and hot and tiny.”

Moose laughed. “Not every girl that I date has to be just like Midge. I mean, yeah, Midge is hot, but… that wasn’t the only reason why we dated. Midge was fun.” He sighed, and Ethel could tell she struck a nerve. “She just wanted different things. It’s not like I’m trying to get her back.”

“No?”

“No. I’m not.”

And for some reason, that pleased Ethel. Just a niggling, mean little burst of excitement in her chest, because okay. Maybe thinking of Moose as cute and single and as a possibility was something she’d only just considered, but he was available. If the kiss earlier tonight was any indication, maybe he was even interested.

“Okay. She broke up with you, huh?”

“Kinda sucked.”

“Sorry.”

“Do we hafta talk about it?” he pleaded.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep saying you’re sorry.”

“Right. Okay.” Ethel made lip-zipping motions.

“So, Stan walked you home,” Moose began.

“He was just being polite.” And he was.

“He didn’t try anything?” Because that thought made the angry voices in the back of his mind rise up out of the clamor.

“No.” Then, “Not really.”

“Not… really?” Moose cocked his head and narrowed his blue eyes. “Hey!”

“Not much, silly! Things didn’t click.” Ethel threw up her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Won’t be the first time things didn’t click for me with a guy that I thought I liked.”

“Well, they don’t have to click every time,” Moose explained. “It’s not just, you.”

“Psssh. Sure, it isn’t.” Ethel rolled her eyes.

“It’s not,” Moose argued. “Why? You think it’s just you?”

“I don’t know.”

“What? Ethel? It just didn’t click with Stan.”

“It just didn’t click with Juggie, either.”

“That’s because it was Jughead. What did you see in that guy?”

Ethel stared down at her hands in her lap. “I dunno. I just liked him.” She looked up at him challengingly. “Okay?”

“Okay. Sheesh.”

“I always liked him. Ever since kindergarten.”

Moose’s eyes bugged. “Wow. That’s either devotion, or scary. Maybe it’s stalking.”

“Shut UP.”

“I know, but Jughead?”

“He was musical. Drummers are hot.”

“If you say so. I wouldn’t know.” Then again, he reasoned to himself, Melody was hot, and the same definition could be applied more judiciously.

“Melody is a drummer,” Ethel told him, reading his mind.

That made him chuckle. “Yeaaaahhh, well… she has other things going for her besides banging the skins.”

“Don’t explain what else. Please.” Because her ego didn’t need another blow.

“She’s cute. Kind of a wing nut, but cute.”

“That’s not fair.” But Ethel bit the inside of her cheek. It wasn’t inaccurate. But it also wasn’t quite fair. Mel was nice. A sweetie pie. And Ethel felt protective of her.

“Okay, okay. I won’t talk smack.” He remembered Melody telling him “You’re so smart,” earlier, when they were talking, and shame pricked at him for insulting Ethel’s roomie, especially when he knew how it felt for people to underestimate how much he knew.

“She’s so lucky. Melody clicks with everybody.”

“Everybody?” Moose raised his brows.

“It’s just easy for her.”

“Didn’t seem all that hard for you,” Moose told her. “I mean, you and Stan seemed like you were hitting it off, in the yard.”

“That was fine. I just felt… weird, after. I didn’t know what to do? Like, at all?”

“Oh.” Moose flushed and rubbed his nape. Ethel picked at a loose thread on her bedspread and felt lame. It was getting late, and she was exhausted. Moose did his part in making sure she was safe and sound, but now, she just felt like she was keeping him up.

“You can go, if you want.”

“Can I just… can I just say something? Can I say this first?”

“Sure. What?”

“I… Ethel.” Moose sighed, feeling his throat grow sticky as his words seemed to clog themselves there. “Midge isn’t my type. Not my only type. I mean, we were together for a long time, and it sucked when we split up, but… she isn’t the only kind of girl that I like.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and, um. I might’ve, I might kinda, I maybe noticed you, before…”

“Before what?” Ethel’s stomach dropped out of her body as she processed what he was saying. Because, whoa. Wait. Hold. Up.

“Before the party. And maybe after we started talking more. Because I like it when we talk and hang out, and maybe it’s a little weird, seeing you in class… seeing all of you, but you… you’re kind of hot, but I don’t want you to think that I only think that you’re hot because you-“ Moose’s words trailed off when he noticed Ethel’s lips quirking up in an uneven smile, eyes crinkling. She bit her lip.

“Moose, do you like me?”

“Maybe?” he said with a wince, realizing that had to sound like he was the worst, and lame, and she had to think he was an idiot… God help him.

“So, um. Okay.” Ethel rose from the bed, and the air felt like it was clogging her lungs for a moment, and she felt unreal, heart hammering and palms sweating. “I…” She wandered closer to him, unsure of what to do or say next. Moose stood, and for one panicked second, she thought he was about to beat feet.

But he hesitated. “Maybe, yes?” he attempted. “Would you hate it if I said yes?”

“No,” she blurted. “I wouldn’t hate that at all, Moose.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding relieved. “Good.”

“Good.” Her reach for him was hesitant, and he felt her hand wrap around his wrist, letting her thumb stroke his pulse, and her hands were cool, but his skin felt like it was on fire, with the way her gray eyes were eating him up, and her pupils dilated when they flicked down to his mouth. She licked hers as a reflex, clearing her throat. “Is this, is this okay…?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Okay.”

He only had to incline his face mere centimeters to kiss her. Bless Ethel for being so tall and lanky, and for the sweet little sound of welcome that she made in her throat, husky and full of want, just for him. This time, it felt right to Ethel, soft and sweet, sending every nerve in her body tingling and raising all of the little hairs on her arms. Moose could kiss, lips brushing over hers and taking complete, shameless ownership. That was his hand caressing her cheek, cradling it as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, and Ethel tugged the hem of his shirt, twisting it in her fist because she needed to bring him closer, needed better access to that mouth.

She didn’t know how long they’d been at it. When they finally came up for air, she staggered back and gasped. Wow. She should probably breathe.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m your type?”

Moose nodded, and she felt a little flattered that the gesture was emphatic, that his fingers tangled further into her hair, that he was still staring down at her mouth.

“Okay.”

*

Melody crept back inside an hour later, and she bit back a laugh at the sight before her.

Moose and Ethel were snoring in concert. Ethel was wrapped around him, clutching him like he was an oversized teddy bear, and even though the covers were draped over them both, she could make out the outline of Ethel’s long leg thrown over him beneath them. Moose was slack-jawed and sawing logs. Ethel was drooling a wet patch into his t-shirt, but they looked so content. His large, beefy hand dwarfed the crest of Ethel’s shoulder where it was currently resting. There was such a contrast between them, Moose’s face boyish and young in repose, with his hearty, peachy complexion and generous muscle against Ethel’s graceful, delicate limbs and dark hair and pale skin. His embrace was protective, maybe even a little possessive, but Ethel looked completely at ease, like she trusted him, trusted herself with him in the narrow bed.

Melody saw Ethel’s white dress puddled on the floor. Moose’s shoes and jacket were parked by Ethel’s desk, along with his keys and phone. Melody carefully hung up Ethel’s dress for safekeeping, and she put Ethel’s heels into the armoire, too, so she wouldn’t stumble over them in the middle of the night if she had to get up to pee.

And because Melody was a good roommate, but she wasn’t a perfect angel, she quickly snapped a photo of the two of them with her phone. This was the kind of memory that needed to be recorded for posterity, she reasoned. And blackmail.
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Elective