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

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Summary: Prom night. And problems.

Every penny of her babysitting money went into the ruthlessly styled upsweep and glittering manicure, but it was worth every penny. Betty didn’t recognize herself when she stepped out of the salon.

She tried to cast her conversation with Archie out of her mind, but she was failing miserably.

Her feet had dragged her up the stairs so fast her breath sawed in and out of her lungs by the time she reached her door. Her hands fumbled for the phone as soon as she bellyflopped onto her neatly made bed, and she rolled to her back, propping herself on her Hello Kitty throw pillow as she dialed.

Three breathless seconds. Three rings that buzzed in her ears and made her restless.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” Did her voice really sound that desperate? “It’s me,” she informed him, then added for good measure, “Bets.” She heard the crack of his smile on the other end and shivered.

“Hey. I called earlier. Talked to your mom for a minute. I didn’t know when you were gonna be home.”

“Well, here I am. So what’s going on, what did you want to talk about?” She schooled her voice to be cavalier; she was torn between wanting to give him the cold shoulder and gushing over how thoughtful it was of him to call. She mentally slapped herself; she’d just kissed Reggie. She could still feel him on her lips.

“I just kinda wanted to talk. Seems like you’ve been busy.”

“Guess I have. Studying for finals. I’ve been in the library a lot. I could practically move my bed in there.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, chuckling dryly. “I bet.”

“I’m also getting ready for the prom.” She took a leap before she could think better of it. “I’ve already taken care of everything that I needed to.”

“Wow. That’s great.” His voice sounded strange; was he disappointed?

“I know,” she told him. “I’m going with Reggie.” There was an uncomfortable silence.

“You’re kidding,” he stammered. “Reggie? That’s your date?”

“He asked me,” she said simply. “We’re going to dinner first. We’re taking a limo. It’ll be nice for you and Ronnie, you can just take hers.”

“Yeah, I guess, but Bets…” His voice trailed off, and she heard him clearing his throat. “What’s up with you and Reg? Why him?”

“Why not? He asked me, he didn’t have a date, and my original plans kinda fell through.” Her tone had a hard edge.

“Bets…Reggie’s not exactly known for keeping his mouth shut about his dates. Look at him and Midge!”

“They don’t date,” she quipped. “They have sex.” She thought she heard him choke on something he was eating. “And since I’m not planning to have sex, it doesn’t really matter.” A flutter ran through her stomach at her own words. His hands had felt so good in the car… And suddenly she didn’t know if she liked the turn the talk with Archie had taken. “And y’know, Arch, I didn’t think you cared what Reggie did.”

“I don’t…it’s just…Bets, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“The last person who hurt me was you.” She didn’t go into the specifics about their night in his room. The humiliation still lingered.

“I didn’t mean it. I had a date, and I made a promise already, Betty.”

“You could’ve fooled me, and you could’ve acted more like it, Archie. So tell me, are you calling just because you want to talk to me, or just because you want to criticize my date?”

“He’s a dog, Bets. He uses girls. I care about you.” Her heart leapt for a moment before she came to her senses.

“I care about you too, Arch, but I don’t think we show it the same way.” His sigh was gusty and long-suffering at the other end.

“I wanted to know where you were going for dinner before the prom, and what you were doing after.”

“I don’t know what Reg has planned.”

“Then promise me you’ll go to Ronnie’s party.”

“What party?” She scowled and leaned up from her pillow.

“She’s having an afterparty at her pool.

“She never told me about it.”

“So? Call her and ask.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” she pointed out, but she was fuming. Some best friend. “She might not want me there.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

So she can keep you all to herself…

“I’ll let Reggie decide what we do after the dance. You two have fun. You’ll see us at some point during the night.”

“Bets…”

“Bye, Arch.” She cradled the phone and flopped back onto her bed, exhaling heavily and groaning with frustration.

Why did he have to make things so confusing? And why the heck was she so confused.

She felt fine when she came home. Great,even. Reggie seemed to like her. Reggie was taking her to the prom. They’d probably have a spectacular time. Why was she even giving Arch the time of day?

And why was she still addicted to his voice on the phone? Why did she detect some odd little note of jealousy?

~0~

So that brought her here. She sprinkled some powder into her blue satin pumps before she unrolled the coil of her silk stockings up the length of her legs. She was satisfied with what she saw: She had nice legs. Putting on the various foundations and undergarments required by her gown felt like suiting up in medieval armor for battle, except she didn’t know who she was fighting.

~0~

Reggie hauled the garment bag over his shoulder as he exited the tuxedo rental shop, whistling under his breath as he headed toward the shoe store. The florist’s was next; he went with the safe white rose wrist corsage and matching boutonniere. He figured Betty probably liked roses. They seemed to suit her…

The whole week felt like a great big blur.

Betty was on his mind on the ride home and for much of the night after they went bowling. He ticked off her appealing qualities as he unloaded his backpack from the car and locked it up.

Funny. Smart. Nice. Cute. Blonde…that was a plus, and flew in the face of his usual preference for brunettes. She was wholesome. And she was always honest with him.

That left one big nitpick: She was obsessed with Andrews. He’d seen doodles on her book covers on and on notes he’d snuck out of Ronnie’s desk showing how “B.C. + A.A.” Mrs. Archie Andrews. Mrs. Betty Andrews. It was sickening. He’d watched her over the years blushing every time Arch walked by, transparent as glass.

And Arch didn’t deserve it. She’d put him up on a pedestal. Reggie couldn’t deny that it was a boost to his ego to have a girl feel that way about him. There had been a few. It was fun at first. The affection, the attention, the little surprises and favors, and the possessive kisses in front of the school before first bell. He wanted them to tell him he was the best, because he wanted them to convince him. It helped him convince himself.

Betty didn’t shine him on. She shot him a puzzled look one day when he’d driven up with Cheryl Blossom at homecoming. His night with her wasn’t remarkable. Fun? Sure. Intellectually stimulating? Not really.

Her skin felt like hot silk beneath his hands when they drove to a deserted spot on the beach after the dance. Cheryl acted like nothing had happened the next morning, merely nodding at him as she passed him in the hall. He nodded back. End of story.

So, now came the hard part. Reggie didn’t have a clue of how to approach things with Betty. But almost all of it hinged on tonight.

He pondered it on his way home, taking the long way back so he could stop for a Coke.

Archie stopped him yesterday on his way out of the boy’s locker room.

~0~

“Wait up,” he huffed, falling in step with him, his red hair still damp from a shower. “Got a minute?”

“Nope.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” Archie continued, nonplussed.

“Then talk fast.” He didn’t slow his steps.

“What’s going on with you and Betty?” Reggie stopped and pinned him with incredulous eyes.

“Why’s it any business of yours, dude?”

“What d’you want with her? I heard she’s going to the prom with you.”

“Read that in the headlines?” It was a small high school in a small town; Reggie wasn’t surprised.

“No. She told me.” Reggie felt the tiny vestiges of annoyance, mingled with jealousy.

“Everything’s all set.”

“What’s ‘everything’ supposed to mean?”

“It’s still none of your fucking business,” Reggie flared, scowling darkly. “I’m taking her to the prom after I said I’d take her. Not like some dumb ass that dangled her and punked out. That took balls, and Ronnie’s got ‘em in the palm of her hand.” Archie returned his glare, and his face flushed.

“Don’t give me that shit! You’re leading Betty on because Ronnie didn’t want you to take her.” Reggie wavered a moment, giving Archie an opening to twist the knife. “Don’t play with Betty; she doesn’t deserve that…”

“She deserves you making her fucking cry,” Reggie hissed. He slammed his locker door, and Archie blanched. “I’m not the one who hurt her feelings. That was you, and it sure as hell wasn’t the first time.” He gathered up his physics book from the bench. “If I had wanted to go with Ronnie, I would’ve asked her. Be my guest.” Dimly, Reggie realized that Ronnie had been the last thing on his mind lately; ever since the little scene between her and Archie in the gym the weekend before, he realized he didn’t feel like letting her yank his chain.

“Betty isn’t like anyone else,” Archie informed him, and Reggie was affronted by the feel of Archie’s firm grip on his arm yanking him back when he tried to leave. “Why she said yes to you I have no clue, Reg; I don’t know what she was thinking, and she’s a smart girl. Everybody knows you treat every girl you pick up on like crap.”

“I don’t pick up on girls, Arch. They come to me; there’s a difference.” Reggie jerked his arm from Archie’s grasp indignantly, and his dark eyes flashed a warning. “And I didn’t pick up on Betty. I asked her.”

“She’s too good for you, asshole!”

“No shit? You’re gonna tell me she’s too good for me? She’s way out of your league, so shut your fucking mouth!” Reggie barked as he strode out of the suite, feeling the fumes of rage sweep over his flesh. His hands itched to go back and kick his ass.

~0~

Reggie ran his hand through his damp, spiky hair in front of the bathroom sink’s mirror. The dim light shone on the freshly cropped, glossy black locks, which no longer dusted his shirt collar. He contemplated his reflection as he massaged shaving foam into his jaw and tapped his razor beneath the warm water flowing into the sink.

He wasn’t used to making this much effort. Reggie knew the ropes. What to say, what to wear, where to take a girl on the first date or the last, how to make a first kiss memorable enough to keep ‘em coming back, whether he wanted them to or not.

Betty…she left him clueless. That excited and terrified him at the same time. He wondered if her dress would match her eyes. What she’d smell like, and how it would feel dancing with her, if her body would fit easily against his.

Would she kiss him first?

His skin tingled in that cool air of his bedroom as he toweled himself and laid out his clothes, digging out an undershirt and the dress socks he hadn’t worn since Christmas dinner. Basic black tux that didn’t make him look like a wedding cake topper. Cufflinks. Shoes he’d likely only wear once.

Ronnie wasn’t finished playing games. She shook her tail under his nose and casually mentioned the after party at her pool house.

He casually said he’s think about it.

It was up to Betty whether to show up. He just didn’t want to be part of the entertainment.

The corsage and boutonniere boxes rested on the seat beside him in the back of the plush limo, the last one they had after the rabid rush. His stomach twisted in a knot, and his tie felt too tight.

Her parents met him at the door where he pulled up. Her mother was everything Betty would be in twenty years, complete with a radiant smile and porcelain skin. Her father was wary but polite, the sentiment written clearly in his gray eyes that if he disrespected his daughter, he was meat. He was shown inside the impeccably polished foyer, and Hal Cooper’s voice boomed up the steps.

“Betty! Your date’s here!”

“Hurry down here, sweetie! Wait til you see him!” Alice cheered before she darted off. “Let me get my camera!” He stifled a sigh but felt a smile crack his face. He was due back at his own house with Betty in tow for more of the same.

He turned at the sound of high heels clicking against hardwood floors before the soft thump at the top of the stairs. He waited expectantly, leaning against the newel post. Blue chiffon filled his vision until his eyes reached her face.”

“Wow.”

“I like him already, Betty,” her mother quipped dryly, “he already knows the right thing to say. No need to ever say anything else! You can stop at ‘Wow!’” Reggie heard her father’s low chuckle but only saw Betty as she descended the stairs. She clutched an absurdly small purse, and a matching wrap, equally impractical, floated around her shoulders. Her smile was soft and warm, and her eyes swept over him with delight.

“You look good,” she gasped. “Look at you!” Her eyes slowly roamed over him, shock coloring her voice. She looked like she wanted to gobble him up, which sent a tingle down his spine.

“He cleans up nice,” her father drawled as she reached the foot of the stairs. Reggie’s hands itched to stroke her. Instead he handed her the box with his boutonniere while her mother charged her digital camera. Betty’s fingers shook, but she mastered it as she used the pin to fasten the white rose to his lapel. His fingers were warm and smooth against her wrist as he slid on the corsage, and he felt the leap in her pulse. His arm fit neatly into the nook of her narrow waist as her mother snapped roughly a half dozen shots, blinding him again, but not as much as the first glimpse of Betty on the stairs.

~0~

The leather upholstery felt cool at her back, and she shivered at the press of his shoulder against hers, feeling the faint chafe of his jacket. Her fingers crept into his just as the setting sun shone inside the car, illuminating his handsome profile, burnished skin and glossy dark hair.

“This is all just…wow,” she gushed, feeling idiotic at her lack of anything else to say.

“Is this a good ‘wow’? Does that mean we don’t have to say anything else all night long?” Betty grinned and suppressed a snort behind her purse.

“Feel free to articulate, Mr. Mantle,” she invited saucily.

“Okay. Let me start with ‘Betty, you look fantastic tonight.’”

“Oooooh. That’s a nice start.” She batted lightly mascara’ed lashes at him. He smirked.

“Your turn.”

“This is better than I could have imagined.” Her eyes pinned him, soft as blue velvet, and he knew she was talking about him.

His mom nearly had a coronary when they stepped out of the car, armed with her camera and ten thousand questions; Ricky Mantle stood by and relinquished the privilege of quizzing them about their plans.

Reggie helped Betty back into car and felt his father clap a hand over his shoulder.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“C’mere a sec, son,” he gestured, his voice low. Reggie nodded back to Betty, holding up an index finger to her to wait. His dad pulled him aside and he felt him press a roll of bills into his hand. “Enjoy yourselves. Show off how nice she looks and watch her curfew if she has one.”

“Dad, she’s eighteen!” Reggie rolled his eyes.

“She’s a nice girl,” he corrected his son. His face brooked no argument, and there was a hint of steel beneath his smile.

“I know.” It took the wind from his sails, but Ricky still felt immeasurable pride for his only child.

“Treat her right.” Another hearty slap on the back and Reggie was off.

“Now that we’re half blind from the pictures, let’s eat,” Betty suggested.

~0~

Hiram Lodge was seeing red. His daughter’s scandalous dress, her miscreant date’s hair that confirmed he was demon spawn, and the state of his bank balance once he was done footing the tab. His wife, in her infinite wisdom, planned everything down to the last detail and outfitted her only daughter’s prom as lavishly as a socialite’s wedding. His house would be packed to the rafters shortly before midnight until the crack of dawn, and he hoped he wouldn’t need his twelve-gage rifle if anyone got out of line in the pool house.

He was young once.

That thought kept him up at night.

His daughter was running late with her preparations. The stylist she hired canceled three bookings to accommodate Veronica’s needs, knowing the money was better than what she’d make on any other prospective bookings. Money talked, but Lodge money practically sang.

“Daddiekins?” Her voice was the same charming, mischievous purr she’ won him over with since the age of three, the effect entirely different now that it issued from glossy red lips.

She stood at the top of the staircase, looking so much like her mother, complete with the same sloe-eyed gleam that made him throw himself at her feet.

He cleared his throat and snapped out of it. “That dress is almost indecent; Lodges don’t leave the house spilling out of their dresses.”

“Pfft. Oh, Daddy. It’s just a dress.” I’ll only be wearing it for a couple of hour. It’ll look even prettier puddle in the corner tonight… “It’s not like you expect me to go upstairs and change!” she wheedled.

You have a walk-in closet full of ridiculously expensive dresses that prove that I can do exactly that. “Where’s your date?” He checked his watch. “He’s late.”

“No he’s not!” she insisted cheerfully as she retreated back down the hall toward her suite.

“Where are you going?”

“To make an entrance. Tell Smithers to grab the camera, Daddy.” Mr. Lodge knew when he’d been dismissed.

Why couldn’t he have had a son?

To his credit, her date picked a decent corsage and outfitted himself properly, even if he hadn’t bothered to tame that recklessly red hair. He gave all the right answers while he grilled him mercilessly.

“Where are you taking my daughter for dinner?”

“Are you planning on going to college in the fall?”

“Have you got a job?”

“How’s your driving record, son?” It was moot, since his daughter was borrowing his hired limo. But it felt good to exercise his fatherly prerogative and twist the screws.

“What time are you bringing her back?” Again, it was moot. He was coming back with her, bringing half the senior class with her. He was just getting warmed up when he heard his daughter’s steps again. This time Smithers flanked him, camera in hand, and Archie’s face was appropriately dumbstruck.

A chastity belt. He paid his attorneys handsomely enough. Surely they could find a loophole.

In the meantime, Fred Andrews’ despicable son was undressing his daughter with his eyes.

“Toodles, Daddy!” A chaste kiss on his cheek left him with the tang of her expensive perfume burning his nostrils and unease in his stomach. His wife’s smile faltered as he stomped off to the den.

~0~

“What should we get?”

“Anything you want, babe.” He winked at her over the edge of the menu. “Don’t worry about being a cheap date.”

“Well…I wasn’t. I’m not.” Her cheeks turned pink. An odd silence hung between them, and Reggie read her mind. >i>You’re just paying for dinner. Not me. He cleared his throat.

“I’ve got my eye on the chicken.” Her face softened.

“Make that two. Reggie?”

“Yeah, Bets?”

“Are you…having a good time? With me?” He rocked back in his seat.

“Are you kidding? We’re going to prom, we’re in a nice restaurant, you look gorgeous…almost as much as I do,” he qualified to make her roll her eyes, “and you get to show me if you dance as well as you bowl. Why wouldn’t I be having a good time?”

“Because you seem like you have something on your mind.” He toyed with the edge of the cloth napkin, folded to look like a hat. “Everything’s fine.” His talk with Archie made him see red and lingered like a smoke cloud. Betty looked unsure as she sipped her water. “How about you?”

“Me? I’m…fine. Fine.” His expression was troubled, and she stammered, “Reg, everything’s great. You did a lot to make this really special. And I’m having a good time with you. It’s becoming a habit.” Her smile was slow but radiant, and her eyes stroked him, making him tingle.

“I want to make you happy.” His voice was earnest, and it surprised him when he heard those words escaping him.

“Mission accomplished.” He leaned forward and drummed his fingers against the rim of his plate.

“Bets…are you sorry Arch didn’t take you?”

“No.” Her answer was swift and curt. “Why?” His sigh was heavy.

“Man, I hate this…Ronnie’s having a party by her pool after the dance.”

“I know.” Then she added, “Archie told me.” He failed to keep the scowl from his face.

“When did you talk to him?”

“It was nothing. He called me. He mentioned Ron’s shindig. I haven’t talked to her that much this week,” she hedged. Now since her disastrous afternoon at Pop’s.

He fiddled with his fork. “Well? What do you want to do?”

“Go to the prom. Dance. Drink punch.”

“And then what?” A hint of his previous smile crept back to his lips.

“Surprise me.”

Shit. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

The waiter took their order. Reggie regretted that he couldn’t ask for a stiff drink.

Their conversation was stilted at first, but gradually evolved to half-veiled questions and furtive looks across the table.

“How’s the chicken?”

“It’s…chickeny.”

“Can I have a taste?” Betty carved a plump bite and speared it with her fork, preparing to deposit it on the rim of his plate.

“Ah-ah,” he protested before capturing her wrist, not missing the jump in her pulse. He guided the fork to his mouth and engulfed the morsel, stroking her wrist with his thumb. She quivered and felt a current of excitement between her thighs.

“Stop that,” she protested, and her cheeks were flaming as he sucked the sauce from the tines.

“Just getting that last taste. All I wanted was a taste,” he cajoled. His words held mischief and contradicted the twinkle in his eyes. She didn’t recognize her own voice.

“That’s…all you wanted?” He shook his head slowly, his smile spreading lazily and making excitement fizz in her stomach.

“Check, please!”

Reggie couldn’t remember ever leaving a restaurant so fast; he hadn’t even finished laying the tip on the table before she dragged him outside. They swept out through the swinging doors, and she tugged him behind the building into a small nook behind the shrubs, skillfully evading their waiting chauffeur.

“Betty…MMMPHH!” She leaned up and devoured his mouth, her lips hot and demanding. His body responded violently, every muscle tensing, his blood singing through his veins. He grew uncomfortably hard, and the bulge in his dress slacks swelled as Betty pressed herself against him; a tiny whimper escaped her as he dominated the kiss. Each time he’d break away, she’d feather kisses over his lips and draw his head back down for more, and he groaned his approval. His palms molded her body, sheathed in the silky chiffon, providing little to no barrier between them. Her curves begged to be explored; his fingers tangled briefly in the overlay of her skirt as he skimmed her ass, firm, sweet and tempting. Her palm skimmed over him, gently peeling back the opening of his jacket to feel his hard chest. His boutonniere would be the worse for wear, but he didn’t give a shit. She tasted too damned good.

His chest heaved; he sucked in a strangled breath. “I thought you were a good girl, Bets.”

“You tell me. Am I good? At this?”

“That’s not what I meant." His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip. His hand was shaking. She leaned in to his touch; her cheek felt smooth as satin.

“Am I?”

He swallowed thickly, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Good.” She straightened his lapel and they returned to the car.

~0~

“How’d you sneak these in here?”

“Daddy has a whole bunch of these in the wet bar.” Veronica handed Cheryl and Maria each an airline bottle of vodka that she extracted from her purse. They escaped though the exit of the girls’ locker room and snuck out cups of fruit punch with blank chunks of pineapple floating in it.

“Now it’s jungle juice,” Cheryl pronounced as she spiked hers with a liberal dose of the clear liquor. The buxom redhead was shrink-wrapped in black satin, and she grimaced after a hearty gulp. “Ooooh, that burns!”

“Frankie’s gonna wonder why I didn’t kick down,” Maria tsked before downing hers.

“There’s more where this came from,” Veronica shrugged.

“You’re a bad influence,” Cheryl pouted. She swigged the rest straight from the bottle.

“Sure, I’m corrupting you,” Veronica muttered, rolling her eyes as she uncapped another bottle. Just as they were chucking the empty containers into the trash, they saw tail lights rounding the circular driveway on the west side of the building.

“Let’s see who it is,” Maria cried, and they hurried out to the front courtyard.

“Oh, my God, it’s Betty! Look who she’s with!” Cheryl clapped her hand over her mouth. “Reggie MANTLE?”

“Please,” Veronica huffed, waving it away. ‘Who cares? It was a last minute thing. She was desperate.” They didn’t have to know that Betty was all set to go stag, or with Archie. What they didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her.

“What do you mean?” asked Maria as she stared at the elegant ripple of blue chiffon swirling out behind Betty as Reggie escorted her inside. “Doesn’t look last minute to me. Look at them! That’s a sweet limo! And look at her dress!”

“She made it herself,” Veronica sniffed. “Big deal.”

“Hello? That only took WEEKS! She’s probably been planning this forever!” Cheryl pointed out. “They look nice together.”

“I guess.” Veronica wasn’t in the mood to give her credit, even to snooty, bitchy Cheryl.

“Hope she came prepared, though.” This time the redhead was smug.

“Why?”

“She won’t be wearing that dress long.” Cheryl’s voice was sly. Veronica prodded her.

“Dish.”

“He’s good,” Cheryl informed her. “I just hope she doesn’t expect him to call her in the morning.”

“God, you’re a slut,” Maria snorted. Cheryl shrugged.

“He was good. Scratch that: He was fucking great. I walked funny for three days.”

“Wow.” Maria was impressed.

“She won’t give him any. Bets was never gone all the way.” They followed in Veronica’s wake, fishing mints from their purses to mask the liquor.

“Maybe she’ll change her mind. Reg looks pretty hot.”

“Guess she might as well. She’s not getting any from Archie.”

“Ron…you’re in a snit!”

“I’m fine.” She changed the subject; Maria made a face behind her back. “What time are you coming over?”

“Right afterward. I packed a bag, it’s in the car.” Cheryl held open the door as Ronnie sailed inside.

“Is Betty coming?” Maria wanted to know.

“Reggie knows. They’ll probably come.” Ronnie was counting on it. Arch would be there with bells on. Ronnie planned to rub Betty’s nose in it.

Thegym was cleverly camouflaged in streamers and glitter, the bleachers concealed by the murals Nancy painted with such care. The wrought iron arch was set up as a backdrop for photos, and Moose and Midge were taking their turn.

Reggie was attentive, with rare exceptions, he never left her side. Even so, her eyes wandered.

Archie was sharp in his tux, and he held Veronica a little too closely, dancing just a little too intimately. Once in a while he felt Betty’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze with interest, right before she turned away.

“He’s still with her,” Reggie deadpanned after about the tenth time catching her. “He hasn’t budged. Probably won’t any time soon.”

“Oh!” Her expression was sheepish and guilty. “Yeah.” She reached for the punch ladle. “I know. I’m sorry, that was lame of me to – “ His hand grazed her as he took it from her and deftly filled her cup.

“Know why I’m here right now, Bets?” He handed it to her, but he held it for a moment longer to keep her close, focused on him. His eyes locked onto hers, and her body reacted to his close contact, feeling heat radiating from him. Goosebumps rippled over her flesh.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to be here with you. When you said yes, I thought you wanted to be here with me. Right now, it feels like you’re here with Arch.”

“No,” she protested, panicked.

“That’s what it looks like, Bets.” She shook her head; her lower lip was caught between her teeth.

“That’s not what I want, Reggie. You asked me here…”

“Arch did, too.”

“He turned me down.” He sighed.

“That’s why I’m wondering what this is all about. He’s got that much of a hold on you?” She set down the cup and tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t allow it. “It’s not just that you’re still stuck on him.”

“I’m not!” She didn’t want it to be a lie. He didn’t waver, still wholly unconvinced.

“…it’s that you’re doing the same thing he did to you. You’re treating me like I was your standby date.” She shook her head emphatically.

“No. No, you’re not…oh, God, Reggie, I’m so sorry! Is that what you think?”

“Show me I’m wrong.” Her touch was gentle and she didn’t hesitate to move between him and the refreshment table.

“You were never a standby.” Her palm eased up his chest, molding against his heartbeat. “Reg, I might’ve wanted him to ask me before, but I never planned to just make you or anyone else wait til I made up my mind!” Before he could reply, she asked him “What about me?”

“What about you, Bets?”

“Why did you ask me? You couldn’t asked anyone. Back at the gym, when you were here with your dad, it looked like you were asking her.” His lips tightened, and he carefully peeled her hand from his blazer. She felt bereft at the loss of his touch.

“Don’t trust everything you see. I’m not hung up on Ronnie, and I sure as hell wasn’t asking her to prim when Arch was all over her on the scaffold!” She bit back more questions and backed away.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.”

‘Wait, Bets, where –“

“Give me a minute.” She swept through the crowd in a flash of blue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a swirl of red heading toward the exit.

Veronica.

He threw away his cup of punch and made a beeline for the door. No good could come of this…

~0~

Her heart was pounding in her chest, pulse racing as she dashed cool water into the sink and dampened a paper towel. She draped it over her nape and tried to center herself. She opened her eyes at the sound of Ronnie’s voice and clacking heels. The scent of her perfume was underscored by the faint tang of vodka as she approached. Her face was wreathed in concern that didn’t reach her eyes.

“You okay, Betty, sweetie? I saw you rush off. What’s wrong?” She tugged a lock of her blonde curls “Like your dress.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, using the towel to pat her chest, which had gone clammy. “I’m fine. Just freshening up.”

“You ran out in a hurry.”

“Why are you here, Ron?” Betty cut to the chase.

“I wanted to put on more lipstick, Betty.” She raised one dark brow as she fished the tube from her small clutch. She pursed already glossy lips and caressed them with another coat of scarlet.

“I need you to be straight with me.” Betty learned back against the counter and folded her arms. “Did Reggie ask you to the prom?” Myriad voices inside her head screamed those words, drowning out the answers Reggie gave her mere moments before.

“What? Are you kidding? Why?” She tossed her lipstick into the bag.

Because the answer means everything. “Did he ask you, Ronnie?”

“As if! Archie already asked me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Betty…are you pissed off about Archie? I know you were upset when he didn’t take you – “

“Did you? You didn’t act like it was that big of a deal. I don’t think you know how upset I was.”

“Please, Bets, get that bug out of your butt! You’re here, you’ve got a date! It worked out fine.”

“You just don’t’ get it.” The logic of Veronica’s words was moot.

“C’mon, Betty, get over yourself. Arch is waiting for me.” Ronnie turned her back and headed for the door.

“This is bullshit!” Betty hissed. “You want me to get over MYSELF? God, Ron,” she continued, throwing out her hands. “I don’t get you.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes, feeling Betty bearing down on her in noise high heels. “This is getting boring, Betty! Grow up!”

“No, Ronnie, YOU GROW UP! You’re such a selfish bitch!” Ronnie’s smirk evaporated, replaced by a venomous glare.

“You knew what you were doing. That’s just it. You would've left Arch waiting on his knees while you made up your mind, and then you made up HIS mind for him. It’s because he asked me, isn’t it?”

“First of all, Betty…he asked me way before he did you, and I don’t know why I’m fucking explaining myself to you.” Their raised voices drew the attention of guests lingering at the gym doorway. “All you’ve ever done is chase Archie, and you know it. He’s not into you, Betty, so stop trying so hard. Stick with Reggie. You’ll have plenty of luck getting him to pay attention to you, Betty, but get ready to bend over and kiss his ass. Or go down on him. I wouldn’t put it past you.” Shame burned in Betty’s cheeks as she remembered that night of fumbling in the dark; the cluttered surroundings and musky male scent, his groans, her own choked breathing, all of it made her head spin. Veronica’s words hammered another nail in their friendship. Betty had nothing else to lose.

“That’s funny,” Betty blurted. “That’s really funny, Ron.”

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Arch thinks he’s getting some tonight, doesn’t he? Did he spend enough on you to seal the deal?” Veronica made a noise of indignant disgust.

“You’re full of shit!”

“God, I hope he doesn’t have his hopes up. Veronica, you could freeze icicles on your ass!” A small crowd began to gather in the lobby, and shocked gasps drifted toward Betty’s ears. “You couldn’t be happy for me! He asked me, and you couldn’t stand to see me get excited over what you didn’t have!” She was so focused on Veronica that she didn’t feel a pair of coffee brown eyes raking over her.

“You never had him! That makes you pathetic! Reggie just pitied you, and you’re the one dangling your pussy over his head!”

“FUCK YOU!”

“Oh, you wish, Betty!” Betty’s blood ran cold when Veronica stared over her shoulder and smiled. “Did you miss your date, Reggie?”

“Hey.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ronnie,” he nodded. His face was calm but bore the beginnings of a scowl.

“Ask him what you asked me, Betty,” Veronica challenged. “Go on.”

“Shut up.”

“She asked me if you ever asked me to the prom before her.” She looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “It’s important for her to know.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” Betty’s heart sank, and a chill crept over her skin. “Betty,” he murmured, “I don’t know what else to tell you.” She shivered at the feel of warm fingers covering her bare shoulder, and at the shame that washed over her. “Except this: I saw you walk out with Archie that night.”

“Wait…what?”

“I figured you were waiting for him. I hated it. You’re too good for him, and you’re to good for Ronnie, too. So I asked Ronnie…” Betty felt like she’d been socked in the gut.

“I see.” He opened his mouth to say more, but she shushed him.

“That’s fine.” She shook off his hand. Blood roared in her ears, and she felt her pulse throbbing in her neck.

“Betty! I asked Ron if –“

“I know. Just leave it!” She looked stricken. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.” She was already picking up her skirts as she backed away from him. “I said it’s fine! So go ahead, Reggie, ask her again! Save him a dance, Ronnie, you bitch! Knock yourself out! I HATE YOU, VERONICA!”

“Ronnie, what’d you do – Betty? BETS! Where are you going? Come back, Betty!” She was a shining blur, cutting a swath through the people staring at the scene. He spun on Reggie stonily. “What’d you do, what’d you say to her?” He closed the space between them, raising Reggie’s hackles sharply.

“Back the fuck off!”

“She runs off upset, and you’re standing right here when I come out!”

“Ask Ronnie,” Reggie grated out. “She’s standing right there.” He jabbed his finger at her, and she had the grace to look guilty. “Thanks, Ron.”

“Oh, come one, Reggie, she’s making a big deal out of nothing.”

“That’s what you wanted her to do.” Archie tried to follow Betty until he was yanked back roughly.

“Don’t. Leave her alone.”

“I told you not to hurt her!” Archie’s finger was perilously close to Reggie’s teeth. That tore it.

POW! Reggie’s knuckles smarted, and all he heard was Ronnie’s shriek over the collective murmurs of the crowd. A muted chorus of “Holy shit!” trailed in his wake.

“Don’t let him follow me,” he ordered, regarding Veronica with disdain.

…Betty, I asked Ronnie if you already had a date. The words never came when he needed them. He had to get her alone.
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