Chapter Text
Betty heads to the subway station with her gloved hands plunged deep into her pockets and her chin buried into the warmth of her scarf. Above her, the clouds are grey and heavy, but still the snow doesn’t fall. It’s been like this for weeks now - ever since Halloween and the sweep of freezing air from the north had settled over the east coast. She’s beginning to wonder whether they’ll get any snow at all.
She buys coffee at the little stand, gratefully cupping her fingers around its circumference as she waits for the train to rattle into the station, and then steps into the car with the rest of the commuters.
Across from her, a little girl sits on her mom’s lap, dressed in the kind uniform worn at prep schools, her hair braided into two neat plaits that are tied with navy ribbons at the end, and Betty thinks of her somewhat strange weekend spent with Jughead and his sister. Strange, she thinks again, but nice all the same.
She finds herself thinking about her neighbour as she exits at Wall Street amongst the towering buildings, and only switches focus when she pushes open the large glass door of the magazine’s building.
She rides the elevator up to the fifth floor and is greeted by Veronica Lodge - the sole reason she was dressed as an elf and drinking eggnog on Friday night - who chirps,
“Good morning! Cute dress.”
“Morning,” Betty replies. “And thank you, but I only got it at H&M.”
Veronica shrugs and taps her pen against her painted lips. “How was your head on Saturday?”
“Sore,” she answers. “Yours?”
“Same.”
Both of them laugh and then Betty adds, “I’m never drinking that stuff again.”
“I tried to warn you!” Veronica chides. “I can’t even believe you drunk it in the first place. It’s literally eggs and cream mixed with booze.”
“It’s festive,” she tries to defend, but just the mere thought of the stuff makes her stomach turn. “But yeah, maybe I should stick to wine next time.”
“Or maybe just something that isn’t 90% dairy.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Betty tells her. “I guess I should head to my desk before anyone thinks I’m late.”
“Please,” Veronica rolls her eyes. “You were like a half hour early all last week and you’re early today. Nobody would think you’re late.”
“But still,” she replies, pointing with her index finger over Veronica’s shoulder. “I should get to work.”
The day passes rather quickly, with most of her time invested in two major articles for the upcoming issue, and on her way home Betty stops by the little grocery store close to her apartment building to pick up some instant hot chocolate mix plus mini marshmallows. Since the weekend, she’s kind of been craving it and despite the fact that she’d usually avoid the powdered stuff, she’s had enough heavy cream to last her the month so she’s not about to make the drink from scratch.
She’s juggling her purchases alongside her purse while simultaneously trying to unlock her apartment door when she hears a voice asking a whole host of questions without pause. She turns to see Jughead and Jellybean heading towards her - and, obviously, their apartment across the hall.
“See!” Jellybean exclaims. “She is real!”
“I didn’t say -” Jughead starts, and then trails off with a sigh as she tugs her hand free, running up to Betty who now has her door open. She’s patted down by a tiny palm and watches, amused, as the little girl widens her eyes at her brother indignantly.
“I told you.”
“Sorry,” Jughead apologises as he reaches her, running a hand through his hair to push it back from his forehead. The effort goes to waste when it flops forward again a mere two seconds later.
“My school said you weren’t real,” Jellybean complains.
“She told them an elf that lives in our building came to visit her this past weekend,” he elaborates. “And brought special North Pole cookies.”
One of his eyebrows is raised and Betty can’t quite tell if he’s mad at her for it or if he’s amused. It is, of course, adorable, and she can’t feel too guilty when she bends down to Jellybean’s level to whisper,
“Some people don’t have as vivid imagination as you, Jellybean.”
“Will you come?” she asks? “Come to my class and show them all I wasn’t lying?”
This time, Betty does feel guilty, and gnaws on her lip as she thinks of what to say. Thankfully, Jughead saves her.
“Maybe it should just be our secret.”
The little girl’s dark eyebrows knit together as she contemplates his suggestion. “But then only you and me will know.”
“And Betty,” he adds. “She’ll know too.”
“And Santa?”
Betty laughs, squeezing Jellybean’s shoulder gently. “And Santa.”
A smiles breaks out across her face and she catches Jughead’s eye, relieved. “What do you have in there?” his sister asks, tugging at the edge of the bag tucked under her arm.
Betty shows her inside of the bag and she gasps. “You’re having North Pole hot chocolate! Can we have some?”
“ Jelly, ” Jughead warns, but already she’s staring hopefully with those dark eyes and it’s not like she had any other plans.
“If it’s okay with your brother,” she chances, “then it’s okay with me.”
“Please?” the little girl asks, and Betty can already see that he’s resigning himself to losing this one.
“Just a half hour - you have reading homework.”
As if she doesn’t hear the last part, Jellybean claps her hands and half-pushes past Betty to get into her apartment.
There are still a couple of cardboard boxes she’s yet to unpack, and she’s not entirely sure she’s happy with the furniture arrangement, but her small guest gasps as the lamp beside the couch lights up the room.
“It’s pretty!”
It isn’t - not really - but she supposes that the pale grey walls, almost lilac-hued, and cream couch are more girly than Jughead’s magnolia and charcoal combination. The blanket she keeps folded on the couch’s arm is swiftly tugged and snuggled into, and she smiles as Jellybean squashes herself in amongst the scatter cushions.
“I’m sorry,” Jughead apologises as Betty flicks on the light hanging above the little kitchen island after setting down her bag of ingredients.
“Don’t be,” she assures. “I don’t mind - honestly.” It’s the truth: she hasn’t made any real friends here in the city yet - other than Veronica, but she seems to spend most of her time away from work with her boyfriend - and it’s quite nice to have someone else to talk to.
“Are you having one too?” she asks. “I’ll add extra marshmallows...”
He gives her a lopsided grin and there’s a little skip in her chest that steals her breath momentarily - something she decides she should probably ignore. “If it’s as good as your cookies, how can I say no?”
“You can’t.” In a rare moment of confidence, she winks at him and if she’s not mistaken, a blush creeps across his cheeks.
There’s a pause where he seems not to know what to do, but then he asks, “Can I help?”
“It’s just powder and warm milk,” Betty replies. “I’ve got it.”
As she pours the milk into the saucepan, she listens to Jughead reminding Jellybean that at school tomorrow, she should talk about something other than elves and the North Pole. The conversation moves on to books and then multiplications, and she continues stirring as somehow, it shifts in a wildly different direction - this time to braiding hair.
“I did a perfectly good ponytail today,” Jughead tells his sister, flicking the end for added emphasis. Betty smiles to herself: it isn’t bad, she considers, but the red bow is somewhat lopsided.
“But Ella had braids with bows at the end. That’s what I want.”
The milk reaches a simmer and she turns off the gas, tipping the scalded liquid over the chocolate powder. It froths at the top and she stirs it until the powder has dissolved, after which she adds the marshmallows.
Jughead sighs and admits he doesn’t know how to braid hair.
“Here you go!” Betty announces, handing over the hot chocolates. There isn’t quite enough room and so she settles on the rug, feet tucked under her.
“Here,” Jughead says, rising from the couch. “Have a seat - it’s your couch.”
She shrugs. “I’m fine, really.”
He looks as though he doesn’t quite believe her, and instructs Jellybean to put her drink down on the table. “But why do I -” she starts, and loses the rest of her question on a shriek as he hoists her off of the couch and onto his knee.
“So that Betty can sit down,” he answers, and then hands his sister her mug again. “Now drink your North Pole hot chocolate.”
He winks at her and Betty smiles as Jellybean tells them both that it’s the nicest drink she’s ever had.
Of course, the quiet lasts only a few seconds before the little girl begins her barrage of questions: Do you know the reindeer? Is there a Mrs Claus like in the movies? When will you go back to the North Pole? Do you have magic powers?
By the time Jellybean has finished her hot chocolate, Betty feels a little exhausted. She wonders both if they’ve made a mistake in indulging the elf thing, and how Jughead finds the energy not only to answer all of the questions she asks him, but how he does everything else too without any real evidence of tiredness.
“Okay,” he announces, lifting her off of him so he can stand. “We should let Betty spend her evening in peace.”
“I don’t mind,” she tells him with a small shrug.
“You’re being polite,” he says, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “She talks a lot and she also spills things.” He stage-whispers the last part, and his sister plants her hands on either hip indignantly.
“I was careful!”
“You were,” Betty smiles, standing up also.
She walks them both to the door despite the fact that her entire living room is about half the size of his, and then finds herself not particularly wanting either of them to go.
“You know Jellybean,” she says “I can braid hair.”
“You can?”
“Absolutely. How about the time time I see you, I’ll show you?”
“And Jug? You’ll show him so he can do it for me?”
She chances a look at her neighbour and finds he has a raised eyebrow: A figurative really?
“Of course.”
She claps excitedly as she had when Jughead had said she could stay for hot chocolate, and a warm, wide smile spreads from his lips all the way up to his eyes. It makes him look younger, Betty thinks, and they say their goodbyes at the door.
She doesn’t close it until they’ve both disappeared into their apartment after Jughead has raised his hand in a wave goodnight.
The following morning, a little before six-forty, there’s a knock at Betty’s door. She spoons in another mouthful of cereal and mutes the news, chewing and swallowing more quickly than she’d ever been allowed to back in Riverdale.
Through the peephole she spies little Jellybean, and promptly opens her door.
“Good morning,” she greets, smiling down at the dark-haired, dark-eyed little sister of the only other person she knows in the building. There’s no sign of Jughead, but she spots the hairbrush in his sister’s left fist, two bows of mis-matching colour in the other.
“Can you please braid my hair?”
“Sure,” she answers, “But Jellybean, where’s your br-”
Betty doesn’t finish her question because she gets her answer in that moment, the door opposite flying open to reveal a panic-stricken Jughead.
“JB,” he half-shouts, wild-eyed. “You can’t run off like that!”
The little girl turns around. “I didn’t run off. I came to see if Betty would do it for me.”
“You can’t…” he trails off, seeming to realise where he is and what time in the morning they’re having this discussion, and then lowers his voice. “You can’t just knock on Betty’s door - it’s not polite.”
Betty herself watches as the little girl crosses her arms over her chest. “I said please. ”
“That’s not…” he runs a hand through his hair - that same wave she’s seen flop forwards on several occasions before tumbling defiantly. “That doesn’t make it okay.”
It is, she wants to say. It is okay that she’s knocked on her door, but she doesn’t want to undermine Jughead, and so she bends to Jellybean’s level. “How about you see me after school? Then I can show your brother too.”
He smiles at her - gratefully, she thinks - and holds his own front door open wider. “I’m sure you can cope with a ponytail for one more day.”
Jellybean seems to contemplate this for a moment and then reluctantly agrees. “But braids tonight?”
Betty nods. “Braids tonight, after your homework.”
Jughead’s grin grows, and she finds herself smiling back. Briefly, there’s a fleeting question regarding whether she would’ve insisted the same had she gotten to spend time like this with Juniper and Dagwood, but she decides it’s probably best not to think about it.
“I think you have something to say to Betty,” he tells his sister, widening his eyes in encouragement.
“Thank you,” she says, and Jughead looks exasperated.
“I didn’t mean -”
“-It’s fine,” she smiles. “Really. Have a good day at school Jellybean.”
She keeps the door open until her neighbours head back inside of their own apartment, and then collects her bowl of now-soggy cornflakes. After draining the milk, she tips the mushy cereal into the trash and then makes her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth before leaving for work.
“Okay Betty, you’re coming to my place on Friday night,” Veronica announces the following morning whilst holding up her left hand to reveal a large princess-cut diamond seated on her ring finger.
“Oh my gosh! Congratulations!” she gushes as the light catches the stone and her colleague beams.
“Thank you. Reggie and I are having a pre-engagement party gathering to celebrate our upcoming nuptials and you must be there.”
“Okay,” Betty agrees (though it’s not like there’s any room to decline) “Thanks.”
“Excellent!” Veronica claps.
Over the course of the morning, she works on some research for her next article and meets her newly-engaged colleague again in the break room.
“Why don’t you bring a plus one on Friday?” she suggests. “The more the merrier.”
“Oh, I’m not… I don’t really know anybody,” Betty replies.
“Seriously?” Veronica frowns. “Isn’t there anyone you could bring? No hot guys in your building or at the gym or... wait - you just blushed!” she says excitedly. “Which one is it? Building or gym?”
“Veronica -”
“- Betty. ” One of her dark eyebrows is cocked and there’s a smirk written across her face.
“It’s nothing.”
“If you’re avoiding the subject, it’s something, and I for one am in love with love,” she decides. “So just invite him and you never know, there might be some strategically-placed mistletoe.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re crushing.”
Veronica flounces out of the open door with her left hand wrapped around a travel mug of coffee and Betty silently debates whether or not she actually can ask Jughead. She remembers him saying something about not going out, and decides probably not.
The afternoon comes and goes in a flurry of editing and rewriting, and before she’s realised what time it is, Betty’s stomach growls loud enough that she knows it’s time to go home. She turns off her monitor and wraps herself up to brave the elements, sliding her chair beneath her desk as she leaves.
The train across the river is packed and she exits at Bergen Street to make the relatively short walk to her building. When she reaches the fourth floor, she’s barely gotten her keys out before the door of the apartment opposite hers opens and an excited little voice cries,
“Betty!”
Jellybean is smiling widely at her, dressed in pajamas while clutching a hairbrush in one hand and a picture in the other. She’s joined by Jughead only seconds later, who smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he says. “She’s been waiting for you to come home.”
“You work late checking up on the other boys and girls,” his sister complains with a frown. “Aren’t you tired?”
She is, and she doesn’t want to do much other than curl up in front of the tv in her pajamas with a ton of carbs and some hot tea, but the little girl’s face is so hopeful and she had promised to braid her hair, that she’s unwilling to disappoint.
“You know Jellybean,” she says, “I bet if I have some of your brother’s super coffee, I’ll be fine.”
Jughead takes the hint and nods at her, the corners of his lips twitching in a way that she thinks might mean he’s suppressing a smile. “There’s some in the pot.”
It’s Betty’s turn to smile, and he adds, “We had enchiladas for dinner. There’s some left, if you’d like any?”
Jellybean blinks at her hopefully and Jughead widens the door just enough that she’s convinced. “Just a small portion,” she says. “Thank you.”
Jughead plates up some food and sets it to heat in the microwave as she takes a seat on the couch to look at the drawing Jellybean has done for her. “That’s you and this is me and you’re braiding my hair at the North Pole,” she explains. “And there’s Santa and some more elves and Jughead is making hot chocolates because you told him the secret recipe.”
She laughs at that and the little girl beams delightedly. “I love it.”
“Okay JB, give Betty some peace to eat her dinner please,” he warns, and adds another apologetic “Sorry.”
She shakes her head at him - it’s fine - and accepts her plate of beef enchiladas. “Thank you.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing and then hovers awkwardly while she eats. Pretty quickly, she works out from Jellybean’s willful expression that she’s not going fast enough, and so she stuffs in her final few mouthfuls in the most unlady-like fashion.
“Okay,” Jughead’s sister says determinedly. “ Now can you braid my hair?”
“Am I really supposed to do that every morning?” Jughead asks once he rejoins Betty on the couch having put his sister to bed.
“You’ll get faster.”
“Betty, it took me nearly thirty minutes!”
“Like I said,” she smiles, “You’ll get faster.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and she finally dares to ask, “You’re not mad at me are you?”
He frowns. “Why would I be mad?”
“We’re lying about the North Pole; you got called into Jellybean’s school because she found me asleep on your couch dressed… like I was.”
“She’s six, so I’d rather her think you were on the couch dressed like that because you’re an elf, rather than know the real reason.”
Her cheeks flame with embarrassment. “Right.”
“I didn’t mean…” he starts, but then trails off because he obviously did mean it that way.
“No, you should judge.”
Jughead shakes his head. “I’m not judging you Betty, I just… I’m JB’s guardian because I don’t want her to grow up seeing adults passed out on a couch like I did. So even though I’m now forced to live in a world of bows and sparkly shoes and braids, apparently, it’s infinitely better than the one I lived in in Greendale. Her world is one where alcohol doesn’t exist in anything other than the abstract, and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible.”
“So elves are okay?”
He smiles and a sense of relief washes over her. “Elves are okay.”
There’s another pause - slightly more comfortable this time, aside from the fact that Betty keeps thinking of Veronica’s words from earlier. Just invite him.
She takes a chance. “I don’t know if you have any plans this weekend but my friend at work is hosting a little drinks thing to celebrate that she just got engaged, and she said I should invite someone and I don’t really know anyone other than you and…” she trails off to take a breath, realising from her lack of oxygen that she’s rambling, and then continues. “Um, so what I’m trying to say is would you like to go with me? To Veronica’s drinks thing?”
Jughead doesn’t say anything for a moment - just sort-of blinks at her. And then, flatly, he says, “I have Jellybean.”
It’s an answer and an explanation all in one and it need no elaboration. She nods just once and tentatively suggests, “You could get a sitter?”
His jaw tightens and Betty senses this was the wrong thing to say. “I don’t get just anyone to watch her.”
“Right, of course, I -”
“- I don’t go out,”
“Sorry,” she tries. “I shouldn’t have -”
“- I watch Bill Nye and look forward to the time of night when I can watch prison documentaries. I don’t drink and I don’t go to restaurants or like fancy food.”
Betty opens her mouth to ask why he’s telling her this; to apologise for offending him, but he beats her to it.
“Maybe you should go back to your apartment.”
His face is unreadable and she feels a sting in her chest, but, ultimately, rises from the couch.
“I’m sorry,” she apologises. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Jughead blinks again, this time his expression shifting to something more definable. Something more like confusion, but he doesn’t elaborate with words.
She doesn’t ask.
At his apartment door, they share an awkward goodbye that feels horribly like it means something more than just that one simple word, and she crosses the hall back to her place feeling bewildered, and like she’s lost something.
She showers and makes a mug of peppermint tea which she doesn’t drink, and then crawls into bed tired, yet unable to stop thinking about whatever it was that just happened in Jughead’s living room.
Whether he’s avoiding her or not, Betty isn’t sure, but she doesn’t see or hear from Jughead - or Jellybean for that matter - for the rest of the week. When Friday evening arrives, she wears the black lace dress that still had the tag on and takes the subway across the river to the East Village. Veronica gushes over her outfit when she arrives at the penthouse apartment, and Betty finds herself wondering which one of the couple’s parents have the money to make this living situation possible. She blushes despite the fact that she hasn’t asked this aloud, and silently reprimands herself for such a judgemental thought.
“Meet my fiance, Reggie,” Veronica instructs. “Babe, this is Betty - the new girl I was telling you about.”
“Congratulations,” Betty tells him, shaking his hand.
She smiles genuinely through the comments he makes about how lucky he is; how wonderful his girl is; how happy they are, and yet there’s a slight pang she’s trying to ignore which decides to settle in her chest.
Later, as she’s clutching a glass of pinot noir, her colleague joins her in the kitchen. “So that guy in your building, you didn’t invite him?”
She feels a rush of affection for the other woman - for her assumption that the reason Jughead isn’t here couldn’t possibly be that he doesn’t want to be her date for the evening. Her mind casts back to earlier in the week when she’d asked if he wanted to join her and he’d practically shooed her out of his apartment.
“No,” Betty replies. “I didn’t.”
The brunette doesn’t push anything, just winks and says, conspiratorially, “Maybe next time.”
“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Maybe.”
It’s almost one am when Betty tips the cab driver and then enters the code for her building, shoving the heavy lobby door with her shoulder. She shivers in the change of temperature, grateful for the increasing warmth as she steps into the elevator.
At her floor, she fishes for her key in her purse, finding it only a few steps from her apartment. Just as she turns it in the lock, the door opposite opens, making her jump a little.
“Hey,” Jughead says softly.
He’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt with a dark grey ‘S’ on it, and, strangely, a beanie shaped like a crown too. “Hi.”
“You got the right apartment this time.”
“I avoided the egg nog.”
He smiles and there’s a dimple. “Good choice.”
“You’re up late,” she says after a pause.
He shrugs. “I made the coffee extra strong and now I can’t sleep.” There’s another pause - longer this time - her key still in the door. “There’s still more than half a pot left if you’d like some?”
Betty thinks about his offer, chewing on her bottom lip as she recalls their last conversation and tries not to look at the way he’s leaning against his door with those soft eyes of his. “That sounds good,” she decides aloud. “But…”
“Right,” he says on something of a sigh. His head is cast down and Betty realises that he thinks she doesn’t want to join him. “I’m sorry,” he starts before she can elaborate. “For earlier in the week… the way I responded after you invited me tonight. But yeah, it’s late and -”
“- Oh, I meant…. It’s not that I don’t… Just, this dress is a little tight.” Jughead looks up. “I could use a change of clothes.”
His smile grows, albeit tentatively, and Betty feels her cheeks flush. “I’ll just…” she gestures beyond her door.
Jughead nods. “You want anything to eat? There’s some leftover spaghetti from dinner.” He frowns and then scratches at his neck. “I don’t know why I offered you that… We have other food. Bagels? Or uh…. hot pockets or -”
“- Just the coffee is great,” she tells him gently so he won’t continue to babble. “Thank you.”
He nods again. “Right.”
“Two minutes,” Betty says, holding up her fore and middle fingers as if he doesn’t understand what she means, before stepping into her apartment.
Quickly, she exchanges her dress for a pair of leggings and a chunky-knit sweater that’s soft and warm, and then pulls her hair into a bun so she can wash the makeup off her face. She checks her appearance in the mirror, tries not to question why she’s kind-of excited to go across the hall to drink coffee, and then grabs a bag of chips from the cupboard. She is kind of hungry, but she doesn’t want to eat Jughead’s food when she has her own: it doesn’t seem fair.
With her keys in one hand and the bag of chips in the other, Betty knocks lightly on Jughead’s door so as not to wake his sister. He answers quickly, pulling open the door with an expression that betrays the fact that he’s nervous.
“Hi,” he says. “Come in.”
Betty steps into the living room and then holds up the bag of chips. “I grabbed these if you want to share.”
“I guess I didn’t really sell the spaghetti leftovers,” he half-chuckles, plunging his hands into his pockets.
“It’s not that,” she starts. “It’s just -”
“- The chips are probably a wise choice. My cooking skills are pretty limited.”
“I’m sure they’re great,” she reassures. “The enchiladas were pretty good.”
“They’re not,” Jughead laughs quietly, “But I appreciate your positivity.”
Betty feels a little like she’s lingering awkwardly as he pours the coffee, and so waits by the couch where there’s a new stack of pictures on the coffee table. The one on the top has a large Christmas tree in the centre, and two people she assumes to be Jughead and Jellybean at the side holding brightly-coloured boxes.
“I should probably teach her about using both sides of the paper,” Jughead says, handing her a mug filled with hot coffee.
“She likes drawing huh?” Betty asks. “These are new.”
“Yeah.” He rubs at the back of his neck - something she recognises now to be a habit. “She actually drew one for you. I think it’s in her room though - she was saving it for when she next sees you.”
She thinks of Polly’s twins, Juniper and Dagwood, and wonders whether either of them has ever drawn her any pictures from their room at the farm, or if they even know of her at all.
“Betty?”
“Yeah?”
Jughead is blinking at her from the couch. “I said, you can sit down if you like.”
Only then does she register that she’s still standing, and she sets her mug on the table so as not to spill on the cushions. “Right.”
She looks again at the pictures on the table. “You know, if you ever need anyone to watch her, I’d be happy to.”
“That’s kind of you to offer,” he replies. “But I don’t usually have anyone look after her other than my best friend and her fiancé. Just… trying to make her understand I’m always going to be here.” He rubs at his neck again. “It’s why I… Why I was unintentionally rude. There was something I promised her when we first moved here and -”
“Jughead,” she says gently. “You don’t have to explain. It’s… I get it.” There’s a strange feeling in her chest, like a rush of affection maybe, though different to how she’d felt towards Veronica earlier, and it makes her want to move closer - close enough so she can hug him - but she doesn’t dare. Instead, she makes use of her hands by cradling her mug as she drinks her coffee.
“Betty, I’m sorry,” he sighs. “ I really shouldn’t have spoken to you like I did the other day.”
She nods, because he’s right, and in bringing it up again, she realises it still stings.
(She realises that it stings because she likes him)
“It was a nice offer but if I’m honest, even if I didn’t have Jelly, I probably wouldn’t have come.”
Again, there’s a sting in her chest and there isn’t much for her to say to that, other than, “Oh.”
“I don’t mean… it’s not you, just… I kind of hate bars and clubs and… meeting new people, I guess.”
At that she raises an eyebrow as she sips at her coffee and Jughead chuckles quietly.
“This is different.”
“Yeah?” Betty pauses in her subsequent sip, holding the mug so that her lips brush against the rim. Her voice feels a little breathy. “How?”
He shrugs. “Because you live across the hall and you’ve already passed out on my couch and…” she doesn’t hear the rest. The because I like you she’d been hoping for (and, truthfully, half-expecting) doesn’t come, yet rings in her ears mockingly.