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Beggin'	By : CeeCee Category: Comics > Archie & Co. Views: 4528 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Archies fandom. These characters belong to Archie Comics. I make no money for writing this piece of sh- I mean, fiction

Chapter List
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Author’s Note: Not sure where I’m going with this. The title comes from the song by Madcon, one that makes me dance in my seat.
Betty wondered if she walked out of her dorm in nothing but her Hello Kitty boxers; nothing else could explain why she was getting so many stares and “How YOU doin’?” as she made her way to the campus Laundromat. She felt naked, or at least more vulnerable than usual. Her third week of state school found her a fish out of water, far removed from her small pond, and separated from her girlhood best friend.
It was frightening. It was intimidating. It was confusing. Yet, it was a rush.
Betty’s big, drawstring laundry bag weighed a ton. She felt foolish for letting it go that long and letting her clothes pile up; her mother would hang her head in shame if she’d seen her overflowing hamper and the clothes that had fallen off their hangers down to the bottom of her tiny closet from quick changes. Eight o’clock English Composition 101 waited for no one, let alone for her to find a pair of matching socks.
It was surreal, going out without calling Veronica before she left the house. She managed to email Betty every other day just to check in, and most of her messages sounded the same:
Think the guy in my lit class is checking me out. Rush this week. I need a seventies disco outfit for a mixer. Might already have something like that by Versace at home. Headed to the student union for a latte. Byeeeeee…
It was disjointed and unsettling, the night they said goodbye. After Veronica’s three-tier graduation was eaten down to mere crumbs and her other party guests had left, Betty retired with her to the Jacuzzi out back. They watched the stars and nibbled leftover pretzels, promising themselves a gym visit in the morning. Betty wondered how it would feel the following Monday to wake up and not have to get ready for class at Riverdale High. Veronica trailed her fingers through the swirling foam and sighed, giving Betty a weary smile.
“I’m gonna miss you. I wish you’d come with me to Stanford instead.”
“Ain’t gonna happen. I wish.” But Betty was looking forward to state school. The campus was large and diverse, and it was located right in the middle of the city. She’d be able to get wherever she needed to go on the bus or student trolley, and there was an enormous bike park.
“I’m scared. I’m not going to know anybody. That’s why you should go with me.”
“Let me just wish that up and pull it out of my magic hat. Stanford costs a grip. I’m glad I qualified for aid at all and got a dorm.”
“I only want to live in a dorm for the first year. After that, Daddy says I can get an apartment, and he’ll pay my rent if I handle my own utilities.” Veronica pouted. “He wants me to be more independent.”
“I want to work part-time on campus,” Betty mused. “I’m going to be busting my butt all summer before I leave.”
“Don’t work every day,” Veronica scolded. “I need someone to go tanning with. Save me the peak hours.”
“Um… most bosses want you to work during the peak hours. That’s why they’re called day jobs.” Veronica swatted the water, splashing Betty in the face. Betty snickered.
“Bitch.”
“You love me, anyway.”
“Don’t think you can’t be replaced,” Veronica threatened, but when Betty’s smile dropped, she backed down. “Kidding! I’m kidding.”
“No, you’re not.” Tears welled up in Betty’s eyes. “Damn it, you made me cry…”
“C’mere, sweetie.” Veronica stood dripping as she crossed the tub to sit beside her friend, and she hugged her fiercely. “BFFs til the end. You’re like my sister, you know that?”
“I know. You, too.”
“I still can’t talk you into Stanford? I can grovel some more if you want.” Veronica’s voice sounded wobbly and she sniffled into Betty’s shoulder.
“Bitch. I’ll miss you, too.”
�
One thing Betty noticed about spending so much time alone was that if anyone stared at her – any MAN – she found herself looking to one side, then the other, even behind herself, wondering if the stare was really for her. That’s when it occurred to her: Veronica wasn’t there to steal all the attention. They really WERE looking at her. It made her feel naked and self-conscious in ways that she hadn’t before. Yet, it was exciting and heady.
Betty didn’t have to worry about her wardrobe passing her mother’s inspection first thing in the morning anymore. Today she wore a pair of artfully ripped-up jeans and a three-quarter length sleeved baseball jersey, blinged out flip-flops and her hair in two messy pigtails. She put on some eye makeup just to please herself rather than impress anyone, but not in such a way as to attract any attention.
Her roommate, Lacey, was actually from Pembroke, something they laughed about on move-in day. It was a smaller world than she could have ever imagined when Lacey mentioned she went to school with Cheryl Blossom before she transferred to Riverdale. Lacey was refreshingly blunt, funny, and relatively bookish, even though she was still a little of a snob about things like never buying any other boxed mac and cheese but Kraft and shunning thrift stores. Betty knew they’d never be best friends, but she was a kick in the pants. Her side of the room was slightly messy but decorated in fancy throw pillows from Pier One and some gorgeous art posters.
Lacey went home on weekends to do her laundry. Betty couldn’t afford the gas money to go as often, so off she went to the fluff n’ fold. The roll of quarters made her purse feel like a lead weight on her shoulder. Betty stopped for a Starbucks mocha that cost as much as washing and drying three loads. She licked the whip from the domed lid as she opened the door to the Laundromat with her hip.
It was packed. It was Saturday. If she had thought ahead, Betty would have come in at the crack of dawn to beat the crowd. She managed to find one lonely little single loader washer that would be perfect for her whites. Betty plugged her iPod into her ears and measured out some All with bleach, hoping she didn’t lose a whole day to her dirty clothes.
Something red caught her attention, briefly, from the front window. She looked up and saw a dark-haired young man rush by, wearing a red shirt and black jeans. From the back, he looked oddly familiar; she thought she recognized his lanky walk and the nape of his neck. A spark of recognition hit her.
“Reggie?” she murmured. An elderly woman folding a stack of sweaters stared at her, but Betty excused herself. “Sorry. Don’t mind me. Just talking to myself.” The woman shrugged, smiled, then turned away as if to say Who is this nutcase?
Handling laundry herself, going to the tiny campus convenience store for food, paying her dorm phone bill at the student union, all of it felt grown-up to Betty. Writing her own checks and signing all of her own paperwork without any of it having a line that said “Parent or Guardian” on it was just bizarre. She felt she’d arrived when she registered to vote for the first time. Her student ID card picture was even worse than the one on her driver’s license, if that was possible, but it made her smile whenever she took it out of her purse. The novelty hadn’t worn off yet.
Betty found her mind drifting back to Reggie Mantle. Was that really him? She didn’t remember talking to him about state school before they wrapped up finals week. He’d stopped in at Veronica’s party, but then he excused himself, mentioning it was his first stop out of four for the night.

He shook hands with Veronica’s parents and all of his teammates from basketball and football, and Betty felt a small, strange pang as she watched him. As he dutifully tasted the finger foods laid out in the dining room, he looked poised and confident, owning a charisma that her other classmates could never quite match; it was natural to him. His hair was newly trimmed for graduation night, and he abandoned his dress shirt and tie for a black polo and khakis. He was handsome enough to break hearts, and throughout their high school career, he had.

Betty approached him shyly, waiting for a moment when she wouldn’t interrupt him from talking with his friends. She stood by his elbow and waited to be acknowledged. When he wasn’t quick enough about it for her taste, Betty nudged him. She caught his eye and he smirked, something she was accustomed to.
“Hey. Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Obviously.”
“Your partner in crime’s headed to Stanford. How’re you gonna manage?”
“I’ll have to learn how to dress and feed myself. But I think I’ll survive.” His brows drew together as he returned her smile.
“That doesn’t sound too promising. Cheer up. College is gonna be awesome. Just you wait. You won’t even think about Riverdale once you set foot in your dorm of your first class. I can’t wait for orientation week.”
“I know. I’m just scared to death.”
“Why? You’re smart. You’ve always been smart. You can handle the work, and you know how to hustle.” The compliment surprised her.
“It’s not like turning pennies gold in chemistry.”
“Nope. You get to pick your own classes, and if you’re smart, you’ll snap up the late ones so you can sleep in until noon.” His look was smug, and Betty knew that was his own action plan as soon as he left town.
“Geez…”
“Hey, no one says I can’t enjoy going away to school.”
“Don’t get kicked out your first semester, killer.”
“Never happen. I’m going to be a little angel.” He copped a solemn pose with praying hands. Betty swatted him, earning another smirk. “I’m gonna take off, though.”
“Already?” Betty was disappointed, and it was weird feeling that way. She and Reggie were never exceptionally close, but she liked him. He could be a jerk. An asshole, even. But it was hard to hold a grudge against Reggie Mantle for long. There was something disarming beneath the ego, something vulnerable lurking under the surface of Riverdale’s class clown. On those rare moments where Reggie let anyone in, he was blunt and very, very real.
He was a showboat. If there was one thing that she was good at, having a bestie who also craved the spotlight, it was being a good listener and captive audience. It was no fun being a great athlete, guitar player, dancer, public speaker, and again, class clown, if you didn’t have anyone to show off for. Veronica Lodge was always “the one that got away,” no matter how much he chased her, but she always went running to Archie. While Betty was approachable, and certainly cute, Veronica just had… pizzazz. There was something that got his motor running about inaccessible girls that made him work harder to keep their interest. Reggie was the kind of man who needed to constantly prove himself. It validated him.
Betty sighed. “Well, it was good that you could come out for a little while.” She held out her hand initially for him to shake, but then changed her mind. “Is it okay if I get a hug?”
“Oh, if I have to,” he allowed, as though she was twisting her arm, but when she stepped into his embrace, it was warm, snug and very, very cozy. Betty was a “back rubber” when she hugged, one of her endearing traits, and his back was broad and hard through his polo shirt. His cologne was slightly woody, well-suited to his body chemistry and mingling with his detergent. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, not realizing she was burying her nose in his shoulder. She enjoyed the new, foreign experience, disappointed that it would probably be the last time.
Reggie wondered how things had gone from friendly one moment to just… weird. Not bad, not by any stretch. But it felt unreal, holding Betty Cooper, resident goody two-shoes, in his arms like a girl at prom. She felt good against him, and his hands automatically drifted to the soft curve of her lower back. It wasn’t a back-clapping “man hug” that he gave most of the other girls he knew so far that night; even Big Ethel received one of those.
She drew him in. She felt so… comfortable, so yielding against him, like she was really enjoying getting so close. What was stranger was the sense of his arms not obeying his mind’s commands to let her go. His fingers tightened in her blonde ponytail; he didn’t realize when they had tangled in it, clutching its softness. It smelled like flowers.
“Get a room,” Jughead muttered at him, breaking their reverie. Reggie grunted in annoyance. Betty snickered, but her eyes didn’t agree with her mouth. She seemed sad.
“See you around.”
“Hopefully.” His wave was brief before he moved back through the crowd. When he left, her eyes followed him out the door.
�
Betty trudged back to the residence hall and spent the rest of her afternoon sending out postcards from the campus bookstore, giving herself a pedicure, and catching an aerobics class at the rec center. Lacey came back just before six. Her light brown hair was freshly permed, and like Betty, she decided it was a mani-pedi day.
“Clear your calendar for tonight. You’re going with me to a kegger.”
“Ew. I don’t even like beer.” Betty also didn’t like the prospect of walking to someone’s house or apartment at night to avoid getting into a car with people who had been drinking. She grew used to seeing crowds of students, most incoming freshmen like her, parading down the sidewalks with red plastic cups, heading to the frat houses for mixers. She didn’t like how irresponsible it felt or the risk of being in someone’s front yard when the police showed up to handle noise complaints.
“My older brother’s bringing other stuff, too. We can have him get us wine coolers and rum and Coke.”
“Eh. It’s no big deal. It’s not really my thing.”
“Aw. Come out with me,” Lacey pouted. “You need to meet some new people. Don’t be such a hermit. We can get all gussied up and talk to all the hot guys.” That made Betty wistful.
Archie hadn’t returned any of her emails since summer. Some foolish part of Betty hoped that absence would make his heart grow fonder, somehow. That same part of her wished he’d “wait for her” and that she could see him over the holidays at home. It kept her going, somehow. Betty was still homesick.
Lacey was already stalking over to Betty’s closet, rifling through her hangers. “What’ve you got that’s sexy?”
“Are you kidding? Nothing.”
“This skirt. Okay. We can work with his.” Lacey pulled out Betty’s denim skirt. “After we make some adjustments.”
“Um… hold up. What’s with the scissors?”
“This thing’s taking up too much real estate. It needs to be downsized.” WHACK. Snip, snip, snap. One third of Betty’s skirt was lying on the floor. Betty was appalled.
“What. Have. You. Done. I can’t believe you just… mutilated my favorite skirt. You must be out of your flippin’ mind.” She eyed Lacey, who was grinning, then her skirt, then Lacey again.
“Much better.” She held it up to Betty’s waist and nodded in approval. The hem was way, way above her knees now, ensuring Betty wouldn’t be able to bend over without flashing everyone in the next three neighborhoods. “Okay. Top. We need a top.” Lacey bypassed Betty’s tiny bureau and headed for her own trunk. “We can work with this. Ooh. Ooh, ooh. This. Definitely this.” Lacey dug out a black, backless handkerchief halter top that tied around the neck and just under her shoulder blades. Betty’s mouth dropped open.
“That’ll give me a draft. Scratch that. A chest cold. You’re trying to kill me.”
“No. All the guys will die from your hotness in this top. You’ve got the bod, Bets. Work it.”
“Eeek.” Yet Betty held up the top against herself with interest, turning slightly in the mirror. Excitement bloomed in her gut.
What the heck. Why not?
�
Betty was right. The outfit gave her a draft.
The late autumn heat of the day faded into a slightly breezy night, so Betty added a cropped denim jacket, despite Lacey’s protests. By the time she caught her reflection, however, Betty still didn’t recognize herself.
Lacey insisted she wear her hair down, and she held her down, kicking in screaming, while she had her way with the curling iron and hair dryer. Lacey gave her a messy, softly curled blowout did her makeup, lining Betty’s eyes in dark brown liner and smoky shadow. She talked her into a darker lip color instead of her customary tourmaline pink, painting her mouth into a deep, luscious mauve pout. Sassy little high-heeled sandals shod her feet, complete with an ankle bracelet that Veronica gave her for her sixteenth birthday.
When they locked up and headed down the corridor, Betty heard a few whistles and blushed.
“Whoa.” That was Trula, another Riverdale transplant. She was majoring in journalism and mass media and had worked with Betty on the Blue and Gold. “I’ve got to get a picture of this. Hold still.”
“That better not go on your Facebook.”
“Of course it’s going on my Facebook.” Lacey sidled up to Betty and leaned up against her, pouting and posing like a porn star. Betty swatted her hands away; her mother would faint if she caught wind of a photo like that.
“We’re going to Mike’s over on Orange Street.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. If you do, put it on YouTube so we can all laugh about it tomorrow.”
“You’d better bail me out, worst case scenario,” Betty warned her. Trula winked.
They turned more heads as they passed the game room downstairs and crossed the front lobby.
“That’s Betty? Tell me that’s not Betty Cooper,” she heard someone comment from the pool table.
“Nice.”
“Pass me a Kleenex. I’m drooling.”
“Um… digits, please?” another one called out.
“See?” Lacey elbowed her. “Quit sticking your head in the sand. You’re a hottie.”
“This just… isn’t me.”
“Betty, it could be. Just go with it.”
�
Reggie worked slowly on his second cup of Keystone, making a face. It didn’t taste much better than the first, but he enjoyed the beginnings of the mellow buzz it gave him, glad that he didn’t have class the next day. His week was one big blur, and it felt good to cap it off with a party and loosen up.
Rush week had been hell, full of meetings, interviews, ordering a copy of his transcripts, making time for two fundraisers and memorizing the Greek alphabet. If having a half an hour of homework in every subject in high school was a bear, having an hour of reading every night in college, complete with mini theses, essays and lab reports was grueling. But his classes were exciting, and it felt good to push himself and meet new people.
Scratch that. His roommate was excluded from that category. Cedric hailed from Pembroke Academy, a fact that lost its “Wow, small world” novelty after an hour in his company. Reggie was pretty flexible in his taste in music, but Cedric’s death metal had to go. He snored and talked in his sleep. He bragged endlessly about his car, his girlfriends, his house and the countries he’d traveled to with his parents. He borrowed Reggie’s deodorant and toothpaste and kept bringing weird girls into their dorm. He had an annoying laugh and he talked to Reggie first thing in the morning on his days when his classes started late, so Reggie never got to sleep in. Cedric didn’t think of anyone but himself.
How could anyone act like that? Reggie was glad he wasn’t that selfish…
Reggie mingled a while with Mike’s friends. His roommates were a kick in the pants, and there was a fantastic ratio of single girls to guys on the guest list. Reggie parked himself in the kitchen and people-watched from beside the keg, which paid off well. The girls noticed him, and he drew stares and furtive smiles from across the room. Reggie planned is openers in his head and simply waited for the right girl to take the bait.
In the back of his mind, Reggie wondered why he almost felt lonely in such a crowded house.
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Beggin'