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It's such a teenage cliché.
Hiding underneath the bleachers. Because sometimes High School is such a grind, she has to take a moment to disassociate, scribbling thoughts into her journal. It does beat getting into trouble, though. Something that was damn near impossible down at Southside, but oh so easy here at Riverdale, where at times it feels as if merely speaking her mind will earn a suspension.
She's not a novelist like Jones wants to be. Or a poet like Sweet Pea, loathe as he is to admit having a talent for it. Her ability with words on paper is more casual observer. See the world a certain way and comment on it at her leisure. A month into attending a new school, she's seen an abundance of new things worth mentioning. Like every assumption she and the Serpents ever made about the privileged upper class is irritatingly true.
Finishing a particular observation, she's caught by the sound of footsteps on gravel, her attention pulled from the page to Cheryl Blossom suddenly within her eye line. Her breath catches, the redhead in full River Vixen regalia, glancing at her surroundings to see if she's alone.
Toni quickly closes the journal, slips it into her bag as quietly as she can, and looks for some kind of exit to slip away unnoticed. It's when the girl starts to cry, that Toni freezes, somehow still unseen from her perch atop an empty steel barrel, her body partially obscured by some old tackling apparatus long forgotten by the football team.
It's the most awkward thirty-five seconds, stuck there listening to the sobs, before she finally clears her throat to make her presence known. Cheryl is quick to wipe at her eyes, and like magic, you'd never know there were any tears at all. A flash of embarrassment shines through her expression, but she swiftly covers it with a scowl, crossing her arms with a huff.
“Are you okay?” Toni asks.
The scowl only deepens, like it's the most ridiculous question she possibly could have asked, and turns her back for good measure.
“Fine,” comes out in a clipped tone, though her breath still wavers.
It's her out, Toni realizes, but for whatever reason chooses not to take it. Instead she places a tentative hand on Cheryl's shoulder, who immediately shrugs her off.
“Are you still here?”
“What's wrong?”
Cheryl's head turns sharply toward her.
“What do you care?”
It's a valid question. One Toni doesn't exactly have an answer for.
“I don't know,” she replies honestly.
Cheryl turns around at that, trepidation replacing the anger in her scowl.
“I don't need your pity.”
Toni tries not to roll her eyes, but can't help herself.
“You don't have it,” she gives back. “But my empathy-”
“Pretty word,” Cheryl interrupts. “Same empty sentiment.”
Toni stands her ground.
“What's wrong?” she repeats.
The cheerleader's facade quickly crumbles, and the next thing Toni knows, her arms are wrapped around the girl and rubbing slow circles on her back.
“You don't have to tell me,” she says into Cheryl's ear. “Your business is your business. But if you want-”
The kiss is unexpected.
A sudden, hungry desperation, that Toni has trouble matching and she pulls back to catch her breath.
Big mistake.
Cheryl takes her need for air as a rejection, tears herself from the embrace and promptly runs away, Toni still too out of breath to call after her.
/\
It's almost three in the morning.
Toni sits by herself in a booth at Pop's. Nursing a cherry Coke and a plate of fries, her journal sits on the table, the blank page mocking her with it's lack of content. She's been trying to find the words for nearly two days, about what happened between Cheryl and her, but they insist on remaining locked away somewhere inside her mind.
A hand lifts to her mouth, as if the smear of maple red still stains her lips. She never did find out what happened to make Cheryl hideaway so she could cry near the end of a school day. The bell chimes above the door, taking Toni's attention to it, heart nearly skipping a beat as the girl in question waltzes inside the diner.
Toni watches silently, as Cheryl takes in the vacant restaurant, steeling herself against any reaction to come when their eyes inevitably meet. She expects a sneer pointed her way, or a roll of the eyes, telling that this serendipitous moment is anything but.
Neither one happens, and Cheryl makes way toward her, heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor. She slides into opposite side of the booth uninvited, and Toni looks down at her fries fully assuming that Cheryl will just reach out and take one, but only folds her hands atop the table.
“What are you doing up so late?” Toni asks.
A smirk pulls at Cheryl's lips, eyebrow arching as if she can ask the same question, but doesn't. Instead she looks down to Toni's journal.
“Wishing to be the next Sylvia Plath?”
Toni slams the journal shut and pulls it into her lap, despite laughing at the comparison.
“Not really my style,” she answers. “I'm more into taking pictures. But I do like to write things down.”
Cheryl nods and doesn't press the issue further, simply looking at Toni as if she has something else to say.
“Is everything alright?” Toni asks.
“Fine,” Cheryl replies quickly. “What you saw was... Nothing. A moment of weakness. I promised myself it wouldn't happen again.”
Toni's brow furrows.
“That sounds ominous.”
Cheryl waves a dismissive hand.
“The contrary, I assure you.”
Toni nods, clucking her tongue and leaning back against her seat.
“And the kiss?”
Color flushes into Cheryl's cheeks.
“Another moment,” she says.
“Of weakness?” Toni echoes.
Cheryl shakes her head.
“You were kind to me,” she says softly.
Toni isn't quite sure how to take that.
“Do you make out with everyone who is nice to you?” she asks, and immediately wants to take it back.
The scowl quickly comes back into play.
“Like some harlot?” Cheryl snaps. “I was going to try and thank you, but god, why should I even bother? As if someone from the Southside has ever heard of manners-”
“Look, I'm sorry,” Toni interrupts. “That was a stupid thing to say.”
Cheryl merely glares at her.
“You surprised me,” Toni continues. “And then you ran away. This is the first time I've seen you in days and-”
The glare fades instantly, her eyes and smile lighting up.
“Have you been thinking about me that whole time?”
Now it's Toni's turn to blush, which she does, inwardly cursing herself for being so stupid.
“Yes,” she admits, begrudgingly.
Oh, to wipe that smug satisfaction off her face, Toni thinks, cheeks still flushed.
“Would you like to go somewhere?” Cheryl asks.
Toni isn't sure she hears right.
“What?”
“With me,” Cheryl carries on. “Come on, let's get out of here.”
Briefly, Toni wonders if this is how she dies. Unable to say no, to a clearly unstable girl, just because she has a pretty face. Cheryl doesn't wait for a proper answer, rising from the booth, and backing toward the door.
“Come.”
Toni lets her get five steps, before shoving the journal into her bag, slinging it over a shoulder and rising to her feet to follow.
/\
Cheryl gives no clue as to where they're headed, singing along to whatever song comes on the radio, while Toni is left to wonder if this wasn't the best idea to spend the rest of her Friday. The engine purrs pleasantly, as they drive along the winding road, headlights slashing through the darkness of night. Toni sits on the passenger side, running her fingers along the smooth leather, impressed with the classic car. A '61 Chevy Impala. Not something you see every day, let alone get to ride in.
“Whose car is this?” she asks.
Cheryl keeps her eyes on the road.
“Think I took you for a drive in a hot ride?” she replies.
Toni chuckles softly.
“No,” she relinquishes. “But this is definitely not the one you show up to school in every day.”
Cheryl's head turns briefly to her.
“Keeping tabs on me?”
Toni smirks.
“Casual observer. Kind of my thing.”
The car slows down, turning onto a side road Toni couldn't see, and starts a mild decent.
“Now would be a good time to let me know where we're going,” she says aloud.
“But then it won't be a surprise,” Cheryl gives in rebuttal.
Toni's eyes are fixated on the road in front of them, barely registering in the headlights, nerves definitely twitching.
“Cheryl, I really wanna know-”
“Relax, Serpent girl. We're here.”
The car slows to a stop, as Cheryl shifts into park, and kills the headlights. She leaves the radio on, however, and hits a switch to draw the roof back. Toni's head cranes toward the night sky, flooded with thousands of stars never visible from the Southside.
“Damn,” she utters softly.
Cheryl slides across the not quite bench seat, turning Toni's appreciation of the view into focus on her, as she lays a hand upon her cheek.
“Gotta admit,” Toni starts, eyes drifting to Cheryl's lips. “I'm impressed.”
Cheryl grins.
“You should get used to that.”
She smells like strawberries.
“Should I?”
Cheryl nods, dipping her head to Toni's neck, giving a playful nip. Her eyes fall closed as the redhead presses closer, inhaling sharply as the nip turns to a bite, and turns her face to Cheryl's before claiming the girl's lips with her own.
They're moving too fast.
Or not a all.
They're not friends. They don't talk other than abnormal circumstances. Stand on opposite sides of a class war. Yet here they are together, in some ridiculous scene making out underneath a starry sky. A song comes on the radio, one Toni remembers her mom loving before she took off, and hums against Cheryl's kiss.
Over and over.