Jughead could only focus on one thing.
Sitting on the other side of the cafeteria, with Archie’s arm around her.
She was the downfall of him that he should have seen coming.
But the real question was, did she know? Did she know how she made him feel when her face lit up as she smiled at Archie, sitting across from him? When she would subtly run her tongue along her lower lip to avoid dryness. When she would brush her hair back, behind her ear?
She couldn’t. Could she?
Jughead had made the worst mistake of his life. He had done it to protect her. But it was a foolish attempt to save the girl who didn’t need protection.
He wanted her back. More than anything. But she wouldn’t take him back, would she?
For a quick moment, she looked over to him, no readable expression on her face, and he knew all of hers. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that he couldn’t understand her anymore; what was going on with her; what she was feeling.
She got up, and he wished that she hadn’t. Her short, white skirt introduced her long, olive legs. They felt like silk wrapped around his waist, he remembered.
She started walking towards him, but without looking at him. Her head was buried in a book, as she had her bag slung over her shoulder.
She walked past him without saying a word. She had no words to give him. She was pissed. She was pissed at Jughead for being such a dick with his efforts to ‘protect her’ even though she wasn’t a helpless princess.
She wasn’t helpless, he knew that. But she was a princess. She used to be his princess.