Shirley jock dating
Shirley jock dating
“The cherry’s the best part,” she declares.“Indeed it is.” Jughead shrugs out of his Serpents jacket. In his wake, the silence surges back into the old library.“And I think it’s about time I popped yours.”He’s been working on that line, and so far she’s played along perfectly. Instead of blushing or giggling, Betty folds her arms and tucks one corner of her mouth into a full Mc Kayla Maroney. Betty sits back, winded by the scene, and finds little satisfaction in the fact that she's finally chased Jughead Jones away from her.
” He’s close enough to sense the heat of his skin, breath when he talks. “Principal Weatherbee,” Betty says in her ‘Let’s Impress the Grown-Ups’ voice. “How is your sister feeling after the last experimental treatment? “That was quite the amazing performance,” he drawls.
“Too bad Pops doesn’t serve wine,” she deadpans, “since it would go perfectly with your cheese.” Jughead raises one eyebrow and figures it’s time to go to guns. I just want to remember this forever when we’re both old and gray…”“Okay.” Betty stands, slings a purse shaped like a cat’s face under her elbow, and claps him on one shoulder. And are you really going to tell me you never took off from a hook-up without an explanation? He’s gone, and there’s nothing she can do to change it.
“I’m going to stop you before you get to the part where you tell me you don’t want to be alone, that nuclear war could happen tonight and it might be our last chance, or that your name’s Haywood Jablome.”“My name’s Jughead.” He also stands, getting as close as possible. It isn’t until she rouses herself and puts her notes back in order that she finds a map, sketched on a page ripped out of Jane Eyre.
Betty doesn’t wear perfume, just a clean skin and laundered clothes smell that drives him crazy. ”Strangely, this is the line that earns him a laugh, too late. Betty recognizes the line above the drawing: The map is plainly marked, a small section of Sweetwater River. The old Ford whines as she presses the accelerator to the floor on Route 55. Betty will arrive to see an empty field, a pyrrhic victory.
“Good night, Jughead,” Betty actually goes on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. There’s nothing to mark its source except for one addition: a tiny crown sketched on the riverbank. She sets up a tutoring session with Ethel for calculus class. She goes to cheerleading practice and stays late to work on a complicated pyramid with Veronica and Cheryl. Betty ignores the speed limit and, as she nears the river, several red lights. Jughead’s frail map is balanced carefully on her knee.
She ignores him and turns the pages, pointing out several pictures of Jellybean. ” she asks.“Yeah.” Jughead pushes the album onto the floor. He’s a loser, obviously, and I’m following right in his footsteps.” He calculates he’s done his time talking. ”Calm as a statue in some tiny cathedral, Betty hooks the album with her foot and picks it up. Jug’s got the reputation of a ladykiller, a player, the Virgin Surgeon. There’s nothing to think about except his princess, light on his lap and tickling every cell in his body with the softest of touches: one lip brushing his, a fingertip on his pulse, her ankle rubbing his knee. Don't laugh so hard - you'll spill food all over the bed."As he eats, Jughead comes back to himself. Soon, though.” Betty puts down the plate on a stack of paper, and he reaches out to stop her. They sit in silence, and just as she’s about to get up, brush the leaves off her uniform, try and make herself look human again, Jughead says one word. When she opens her eyes, his are closed, and he gasps as though he’s just won a race or survived a fall from a cliff. Betty presses against the dark and silent boy in the heart of the woods and waits for him to say it.
But faced with what this girl displays so bravely, that side of him crumbles and he catches her fingers in his. She looks fresh off the movie lot of a classic feature. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, as though he’s descending inside himself past muscle and bone to a mysterious place Jughead never knew existed. ”“Because,” Betty says, “you’re exactly what I deserve. No, he doesn’t, except now words are beyond him, and he shakes his head.“Okay.” Betty sits on top of his hips and caresses his chest, tweaks one nipple in a delirious burst of pain. " He grins at her around a mouthful of sandwich."Yeah. He’s still naked under the covers, but she’s got her clothes on. “Tarantino.” A tear spills out over her cheek, hot and shocking. She doesn’t care if he gets stained with her juices. Although she holds her breath, she hears nothing except the thump of Jughead’s heart and Sweetwater River, wild against its restraining banks. ”“I was thinking La Grenouille in Manhattan for dinner and martinis – kidding,” Veronica sings.
“That would be great,” she answers sweetly.#They sit on his dad’s old couch, since Betty doesn’t seem to mind the rips or the duct tape holding it together. Jughead bounces off the couch and waves at the tiny trailer. Instead, Betty stands up and, without a word, holds out her palms for him to see. Jughead becomes aware he’s spouting Betty puts a stop to his nonsense, Thank Christ, by leaning forward and giving him the sweetest kiss he’s ever had. He tries to strain forward for more, but Betty presses him back with her thumb. Jughead closes his eyes and feels everything float away. ”“No.” Jughead swallows, drinks more water, and sits up. Kind of a manuscript – novel – type thing.”Her jaw drops. The fish spawn under the jewelweed, and the oak leaves frame the sunset just right this time of year.”Betty folds her arms. ”#Jughead rushes to the cramped closet they use as a bathroom and brushes his teeth. He’s surprisingly strong for such a slender person. She’s wearing nothing else except her cheerleader’s skirt and shoes, and he’s only in his jeans. “I’m pretty sure we are.” “In that case.” She settles herself more firmly on his lap and cups his crotch. This is mine.” Betty knows she has to add a final reminder in case he needs an out.
Jughead makes sure he spreads out as much as possible, arm along the back of the sofa, one knee pressed against her satin thigh. “We don’t live like you do, Princess, in a perfect family with a perfect house and perfect dogs. The old clock in the kitchen ticks, and far away an old transistor radio plays Wichita Lineman. They stand, frozen, as he looks at her perverted stigmata. No tongue, just a sigh against his mouth so he can taste her breath. He doesn’t have to worry about sending Jellybean money or if his dad’s out of jail. One glance in the mirror shows his hair standing straight up, so he tames it as much as he can with water and his fingers. They’re on an old towel from her truck, a shared bottle of water in her fist. “I think this thing might be bigger than both of us, princess.” Betty shivers, an electric shudder from her core. Your friends at the Whyte Worm wouldn’t be too happy to see me on your arm.” “Fuck those guys. I highly doubt your parents would welcome me to family dinners any time soon.” He kisses her cheek and cups one breast, rubbing a thumb over the nipple. You feel like silk after we make love.” “Love-making? “Animalistic sex, maybe.” He draws in a sharp breath. Also -” Jughead pulls her into a soft embrace, a mere brush of his lips over hers with a hint of tongue. “You can still use your safeword if that doesn’t work for you, if you want to keep your reputation as a ladykiller.” It’s dark by now.
Now sit your ass down on that couch and pick a safeword.”“A what? He’s so turned on by that point that the effort to lift her is nearly orgasmic.“Jesus, Princess,” Jughead can’t help saying. Her hands are quick and clever, bringing Jughead to the brink several times. She pulls his belt out of its loops with her teeth, does the same to his zipper. He gets to taste her, lap that elegant little slit, and at last he gets to use his best moves: map out her clit like a mysterious treasure island. Kay.”Betty’s expressive face splits in a delighted grin. Here, I made you a quick snack – nothing fancy, but…”Jughead rouses himself enough to look at the plate. He’s been known to score a hookup over the wires while eye-fucking another chick at the same time, especially when he assumes his patented stance: ‘Moody Bad Boy in Phone Booth.’ But it’s late, and the payphone in Sunnyside has been vandalized again, and Jughead wants to call Betty. The lantern light is yellow and fuzzy, haloing her from behind. I’ll hold you right here as long as you need.” Jughead blows out a long, shuddering breath. And of course their hips are pressed together, and of course he’s hard, but it’s secondary to this scarlet, floating sensation in his body. Betty is brave, and she’s beautiful, and Jughead’s starting to think that one day, if he plays his cards right, she might be his, and probably that way is not to look weak in front of her. Cheryl and her retinue are holding court at the exit.
” Jughead frowns, even as he moves in auto-pilot to comply.“Oh, I think we’re far past vanilla at this point.” Betty climbs onto his lap and frames his face with those scarred palms of hers. She caresses him with her breath and pulls his hair at the same time. Write the alphabet with his tongue just off the too-sensitive center, sticking to the underside since it makes her moan. Maybe it’s like leaving a part of himself, right on her center.“Ohhh,” Betty sighs. Just one more minute.”He tries to remember baseball line-ups and the name of his third-grade teacher. There’s a pile of tiny sandwiches cut into different shapes: hearts, diamonds. It would mean a ride to the outskirts of Riverdale to get in touch with her, and he’s not sure he has enough gas. Her lips curve up, and her eyes are impossibly, eternally kind. The red heat in his chest expands and becomes something else, a different kind of wanting he’s never experienced before. ” He needs her, every inch of her, and in response she slides into his lap. Betty knuckles his spine and gives him one tiny, curious kitten-lick on his neck. “Don’t worry about it.” Jughead climbs to his feet. ” He helps her up, and the ghost of old Jughead makes him force up her chin with one finger, claim a filthy kiss. ”“He wants to hang out.” Veronica arrives at the table, faultless in black and pearls. I mean, being a maiden in a tower is so over-rated these days.”She’s about to explain she can’t make it, but Archie interrupts. Ginger stands behind Cheryl’s chair, apparently collecting votes for Riverdale’s Blossom Queen.
Take your leather jacket and your stupid motorcycle, get the hell out, and don’t come back.” Jughead’s reaction is faster than a serpent’s strike.