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Riverdale, 1992.




FP Jones is an immature pain in the ass.

That's what Alice had been determinately telling herself for the past few years, every single time she saw him, talked to him, or even just heard about him.

FP Jones is an immature pain in the ass.

But more importantly, FP's games of playful teasing, enticing smirks and inappropriate over-confidence was never going to grow on her.

She was never going to fall for his flirtatious jokes or innuendos glances. No matter how bright his dark brown eyes would glow, or how weirdly enchanting his laugh would sound. Alice was not going to fall for the childish bets he very much enjoyed winning and the "look-at-me-I'm-a-bad-kid" attitude.

Little did she know that soon enough, she would almost see the enormous sign in her head, reading "You Failed" in glittery, bold letters. And she truly didn't know if she was mad at herself about it, or if the irony should make her laugh. All she knew is that what she felt right now was definitely not irritation, or even just disinterest.
It was fucking affection.

FP was sitting on the floor, both knees brought near his chest and his back leant against the cool wall of the trailer's bedroom, his broad shoulders slightly arched forward as he was nervously touching the tips of his sleeves with trembling fingers. His jet black hair was still covered with snowflakes from the ruthless winter outside, but those had begun to melt and thus he looked like he had just been running under the rain, water drops running along his nose line and watering his cheeks. Or maybe it was tears. Alice's heart violently squeezed at this thought.
FP Jones didn't cry. He laughed out loud, he yelled for nothing, he talked too much.
But he didn't cry. Did he?

Alice was motionless, standing a few inches away from the trailer's entrance door that was still wide open behind her back.

She was staring at him, and couldn't manage to do anything else than think;
"This is not good."

There was no hint of restless energy like naturally coming from him, no sparks in his eyes. No threat of a stupid pickup line or even just some angry insults coming out from his mouth.

His jaw was clenched like hell, and his gaze probably colder than the wind outside. He looked like there was a storm of dark thoughts howling in his brain again.
"This is not good."
This was gloomy, pissed, vulnerable FP.
The side of him he hadn't given up on suppressing yet.

Alice knew this, and she was almost losing her balance from all the overthinking. She wanted to help him, desperately, but it was as though as some shield was stopping her from thinking straight. The one she had used non-stop those past few years. Maybe even her whole life, for as long as she could remember.

Suddenly the door behind her slammed close, like pushed by some ghost, and FP looked up.
She froze.

Suddenly she could swear that all the heaviness in his gaze seemed to fade away as his face lit up like it normally does. The corner of his mouth slightly moved up, a grin slowly appearing on his face. It was shy, but it was here.
Alice felt her entire body warm up. Now she felt confident enough to step closer and sit on the ground next to him.

She slid along the wall and curled up just like him, her shoulders touching his.
The kind of physical contact she usually cautiously avoided. But weirdly enough, with FP, it was fine.

"I fucked up." He dropped barely audibly, a little bit of nervous, fake amusement in his voice. "I fucked up real bad."

The blond didn't say anything. She just gazed at him and remained silent. She knew he was going to talk again anyway.
And he did.

"Did you come here to lecture me by the way? Cause if you did, I don't think it's gonna help. I know I did everything wrong. I don't need lecturing. God I think I need a hug. Or a place where I could hide for... well, given the circumstances, forever sounds good."

Then he stopped the monologue and looked down at the floor again.

"My old man's right. I'm just a messed-up imbecile."


"Yeah, right, I know, self-deprecation-- weak-ass's choice." He turned his face and lied his eyes upon her. "You never do that, do you? Alice Smith. Invincible, flawless lady."

"I'm deeply flawed." She quietly cut him off, a smile even appearing on her face as she admitted to him what she'd never casually say to anyone else.
Not that she expected people to think she was perfect. But discussing that with them would literally blow her previously mentioned super-tough reputation.

"You are?"

"I am. But so what, Forsythe? Everybody is."

"Yeah, you right." He said, eyes focused in front of him again. "As long as you stop calling me that, I guess I'll be ok."

"It's just your name."

"It's my father's name. I want my own name." He muttered.

"Doesn't the F in FP stands for Forsythe, though?"

He glanced at her, a smile he simply couldn't hold back appearing in the corner of his mouth. "Shut up." She giggled. "I'm going through something difficult here, let me have this."

"Ok, FP. But stop spiraling about what your father said. He's just an ass."

FP nodded slowly. "I know what he is. Which is the reason why I think I'm such an idiot for never giving up on trying to get his attention..."

"You're not the fucking idiot here, he is."

He heard the anger in her tone, he had to turn his head to face her and meet her familiar big blue eyes. They were glowing with irritation, and somehow, here, sat on the floor of his long-gone dad's freezing trailer with a slightly irritated Alice Smith, he felt a hundred times better than he did an hour ago.

Alice knew what was about to slip out of her mouth would count as proof of affection, and that didn't synch with "safe" in her brain. But screw that. She was pissed and she had to express it. No matter how surprisingly caring she'd turn out to sound. No matter how terrified that should've made her feel.

"He's the fucking idiot." She couldn't help but insist. "He's a fucking blind, self-absorbed jerk who isn't even willing to see that, despite the horrible parenting job he's always provided, his son turned out to be an amazing human being."

And she didn't even got the time to throw a sarcastic comment here or there to lower the passion in her open hearted speech cause before she even got the time to take her next breath, his mouth was on hers.

He had leant forward and cupped her cheek in his hand, fingers so hot against her cold skin it felt like fire melting her instantly, and just like that, with no warning or whatsoever, pressed his lips on hers, shutting her up in the most unexpected way possible.

And soon enough his tongue was invading her mouth, and his teeth softly biting on her bottom lip, and damn it, it felt good.
She was trying to act up, put her shits together and eventually push him away but truth is-- she really didn't want to.
All she could think about was the heat of his palm on her leg and his lips ravaging hers, and bright bold letters in her head again, stating nothing but the obvious:

You're making out with FP fucking Jones.

It's when the letters became too big in her mind and her heartbeat too loud in her ears that she realized what was happening, and that one second of awareness and overthinking was enough to snap her out of the moment.
She almost brutally straightened and yanked his arms, pushing (if not punching) him away.

"Ouch!" He immediately complained, brows furrowed in confusion.

"What the hell, FP!?"

"I -- I don't -- YOU said I was amazing! and then I just--"

She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah I said you were amazing. so wh-"

And then he kissed her again, and she muffled some insult against his lips.

"I can't help it!" He explained as she pushed him away for the second time. "It's just too hot, I can't help it."

But truth being told, she wasn't really pushing him away. Well, she was, but only seconds after he made the move, because both times she didn't want to stop him at first and that scared her, so she broke apart from his embrace.

Cause she felt it.

It was the first time she ever felt it.

The first time a boy had made her hands sweat and her lips tremble and her thoughts confused.
She felt it, as stupid as it sounded, she felt like she never wanted to stop making out with him, and this feeling she couldn't control petrified her. And so she yanked his arm and closed her mouth while really all she wanted was him to take her, right here, right now.

"Back off, Forsythe!"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry."

"I mean it."

He nodded. "I know! I'll stop kissing you."

Her eyes were locked with his, both their lips slightly parted from the previous kiss. Neither of them moved for what felt like decades.

Until a barely audible "fuck it" slipped through Alice's mouth, and she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around FP's neck, their lips meeting again, this time from her own initiative. He was surprised at first, but didn't wait very long to respond.

She dragged her knees closer to his body and climbed on his lap, as his hands slid down her back, grabbed her hips, caressed her thighs.

She lowered her head to kiss and bite the warm skin of his neck, and to simply breathe seemed to get more and more complicated for him, cause the blond on his lap was way too beautiful and hot and brilliant for him to handle.

She left a couple love bites on his neck, not-so-subtle memories of her he would never bother to cover up.
She faced him again, an uncertain look in her eyes, mixed with affection and desire. He had been wanting her for so long, and he couldn't believe she was here, undressing now, in front of him.

Her sweater was thrown on the ground, quickly followed by his own shirt. His mouth was already missing hers so he kissed her again, while his hand slowly sneaked under her skirt, his thumb teasing her over the soft material of her panties. She moaned in a high-pitched sigh at his touch, which sounded like pure music to his ears. He grinned, rubbed a little bit harder. She closed her eyes and buried her nails in his shoulders, biting her lower lip, trying hard not to give him the satisfaction of her being completely under his control, or at least not yet.

He knew this, knew she was struggling to hold herself back. He wanted to toy with her even more, until she totally lost control. He wanted to break down her walls. Be that special person.

After all, if anyone were to break Alice Smith's walls, it had to be FP Jones.

Cause she was damn special to him, and right now, he might had an actual chance to become special to her as well.
Of course, little did he know he already was.

He slid one strap of her bra down her shoulder and kissed the crook of her neck.
"Don't fight it, love." He whispered in her ear as she was still focusing on not moaning to loud.

"Shut up, FP."

The boy almost giggled at her brutality. She hopelessly wanted to sound harsh but his fingers between her thighs were way too talented for her voice to give anything but desperate, sexual moans.

"Happy to oblige if you are." He said.

She ran a nervous hand in his hair, rested her forehead against his.
Finally, she let go.
Let go of the tension in her back and the fear of being weak and hurt. There was no reason for her to feel weak and hurt right now anyway; FP had always made her feel quite the opposite.

She let go cause her walls were down.
So she just kissed him again.