Chapter Text
( 18 )
I want something else
to get me through this
semi-charmed kind of life, baby
Archie’s leg shakes in excitement when the car pulls up at the O’Hare airport departures drop-off.
“Do you have everything you need, son? ID, keys, flight ticket, phone?”
“Yep.” Archie rubs his palms on his jeans. He can’t wait to get out of the car, check-in, and get on his flight already. Six months after he has graduated high school, this trip will be the start of something new. He can feel it.
“Phone charger?”
Archie looks over at his father, who looks somewhat concerned and even a little forlorn. It makes him laugh. “I’m alright, dad. You don’t have to worry. I’m only going to New York for a week.”
Fred sighs. Archie thinks it’s funny, but he also gets it — this is the first time his parents are letting him, their only child, fly alone. But if everything goes according to plan, they’ll have to get used to it — it’s better if they start now. Plus, he’s eighteen now, so no more excuses about being underage.
“Okay, kiddo. Call me as soon as you land and send Jughead my best,” his dad says. “And don’t forget to have some fun.”
He smiles. They hug briefly before Archie gets out of the car, taking his duffel bag and his guitar case from the trunk. He waves to his dad and waits for him to drive away.
Archie inhales deeply, wanting to taste freedom on the back of his tongue, but ends up only tasting smoke. He coughs, turning around to see a girl smoking a cigarette while leaning against a pillar.
She’s incredibly beautiful with onyx black hair that's around chin length, wearing something that looks like an oversized grey t-shirt paired with high-heeled thigh-high boots and a leather jacket. Her t-shirt stops a palm before her boots start, showing quite a bit of skin. Archie can’t really see her face behind the sunglasses, but he does like the shape of her mouth and the berry lipstick staining the cigarette.
He probably stares at her for a moment too long — and she must notice it — because she tilts her head up and zeroes in on his face, pushing her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and arching one eyebrow.
“If you take a picture it'll last longer,” she says.
Archie feels his cheeks on fire. He clears his throat and would rub the back of his neck if only he didn’t have his hands full. However, when his gaze lands on a sign placed right above her, he finds the perfect excuse. That’s what he calls a stroke of luck.
“You shouldn’t be smoking here.” He nods at the no-smoking sign. She looks up, then back at him, and scoffs. Archie feels a smile tugging at his lips before heading through the airport door.
Checking in and going through security takes a while, but soon Archie is waiting at the flight’s designated gate. He gets a Mountain Dew from a vending machine and settles in an empty seat, fishing his phone out of his pocket so he can text Jughead, his childhood best friend who now lives in New York City while attending NYU.
Jughead’s last text is just instructions on how to get from JFK to Lower Manhattan, where they’re supposed to meet in a few hours. Archie lets him know that he’s waiting for the flight to depart and sends a bunch of party-hat emojis to show his enthusiasm. He hasn’t seen Jughead ever since they graduated from high school, and he's never been to New York.
He quickly gets an answer — one eye-rolling emoji — and chuckles at it, because that means Jughead is excited to see him too. He was always a bit of a weirdo.
Archie lifts up his head when he hears someone chuckling too. To his surprise, it’s the same girl who he was not-really-but-kind-of checking out outside. She’s sitting right across from him and she was — apparently — laughing at the magazine on her lap.
He can’t help but stare at her again. She’s even prettier now that he can see her whole face since her hair is pushed back by her sunglasses on the top of her head. He likes her style, the way she wears bold makeup, and how her nails are painted black. She was kinda rude to him outside but… Well, she’s really hot.
For a moment, he wonders if she’s sitting there because they’re on the same flight. Then, he quickly shakes his head — duh. That’s dumb. What other reason would she have?
Archie glances down at his phone again, wondering if he should say something else to Jughead — something like so there’s this girl and she’s on my flight — but his friend would only say something like you watch too many movies. Realizing that this might be true, Archie just gets his headphones and starts listening to music, trying not to continuously steal glances at her.
Except, he fails. And, one time, she ends up catching his eyes.
This time there’s no sign to save his ass. Instead of looking away, she shoots him a very tiny crooked smile, and his entire face probably turns pink. Archie fiddles with the phone in his hand, pretending to check something out on the screen so he can look down, but he still feels her gaze is on him.
When he looks back at her, her hands are up as if she was holding an imaginary camera. Archie half-frowns, half-smiles when she pretends to take a picture of him, her finger hitting a “button” in the air.
A voice suddenly blares through the overhead speakers, announcing that boarding will begin and that One World members are the first to be welcomed aboard. The girl gets up almost immediately, throwing him a smile over her shoulder before heading to the counter.
He sees her again when he walks onto the aircraft. She’s sitting in one of the first rows with better seats, back to reading her magazine. She doesn’t even look when he passes by her.
Archie’s seat is almost at the back of the airplane. He helps one lady put her bag in the overhead compartment, keeps his own bag and his guitar case there too, and plops himself down in the aisle seat, headphones still on his ears.
The flight from Chicago to New York isn't too long — only two hours.
Archie eats complimentary peanuts the flight attendant offers. She also gives him a plastic cup with ice for his soda, and he’s pouring it into the cup when the person in front of him reclines their seat.
“Shit!” Archie swears when the cup tips over, spilling icy green soda all over his white t-shirt. The flight attendant fusses over him, handing him some napkins. “It’s okay. I’ll clean this up,” he says, taking the napkins but knowing that they’re not enough — he doesn’t want to look like Hulk when he gets to New York. And fuck, he needs to wash this before it stains — he didn’t bring many clothes.
Sighing, Archie gets up and fumbles around his duffel bag to get a clean t-shirt. He’s about to walk to the restroom in the back of the plane and change when an old man manages to get there first. The flight attendant looks at him with pitiful eyes and tells him that he’s allowed to use the restrooms in the front, asking if he needs more help.
He says no and then walks the length of the entire plane, walking through the curtains that separate coach from premium class. It’s not until he sees the girl again — this time, very much aware that he’s passing by — that he remembers he looks like an idiot, with a green stain on his wet shirt, carrying a stack of napkins, and a spare t-shirt.
Archie hears stifled laughter coming from her. He clenches his jaw. Really funny.
He walks into the cramped restroom, locking the door so the lights turn on and sighing repeatedly as he removes his shirt and takes a minute to wonder how he’s going to clean up the mess.
A knock comes at the door.
“Occupied,” he says gruffly.
“I’m just checking if you need anything, sir,” the flight attendant’s voice comes through the door.
Archie, who needs laundry detergent, just says that he’s fine as he tries to wash out the stain on his t-shirt with water, which only runs for a few seconds, and hand-soap. He hasn’t even figured out how he’ll get his t-shirt to dry after this, when another knock echoes in the tiny bathroom.
He sighs and rolls his eyes as he undoes the lock and slides it open. “I said I’m—”
He’s cut off by berry lips smiling at him. Suddenly, the girl he was ogling before kisses him so hard that he doesn’t have much time to understand what’s going on, only that she’s pushing him back into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.
Wow.
It’s the only word in his mind when he walks back to his seat, ten minutes later, a damp, and still very much stained, t-shirt crumpled in his fist.
It’s not like he’s a virgin — if the last ten minutes of his senior prom night, or the three times he and Josie McCoy fooled around during the summer, have something to say about it — but he definitely never had… well, that.
That, as in a gorgeous stranger biting his lower lip and coaxing her tongue into his mouth or running her hands down his stomach into his pants. He got hard almost immediately when she touched him, and next thing he knew, he was grasping the back of her thighs and hauling her onto the sink.
Things happened fast, a blur of tongue, teeth, hair, and hands. They only exchanged words when she asked if he had a condom (which he obviously didn’t) and then, almost annoyed, said that she had one. She sank her nails into his back when he slid into her and her moans, low and muffled, were probably what drove him insane.
She guided his hand and showed him how to touch her, and soon they were both a breathy mess. Then, after some seconds regaining her composure, she fixed her hair and her lipstick, only glancing at him with a smirk before leaving him alone.
Archie sits down again, completely stupefied. A smile creeps onto his lips as butterflies start to flutter in his stomach. The only proof that what happened really did happen and was not a crazy airplane dream, is that he’s wearing a different t-shirt.
Wow.
Throughout the rest of his flight, Archie makes peace with the fact that Pretty Girl will leave the airplane first and that they’ll probably never see each other again. However, when they land in New York and he’s about to leave through the doors of baggage claim — he doesn’t have any checked bags, anyway — he finds her, waiting by one belt.
She looks even better than before, if that’s possible. There’s also a small bruise on her left thigh that he’s pretty sure might be his doing. It makes him smile, a bit sheepish, and he decides that it won’t hurt anyone if he says hello or asks for her name. Maybe her number.
He walks towards her, adjusting his duffel bag strap on his shoulder. Pretty Girl kinks up one eyebrow when she realizes he’s approaching her.
“Don’t,” she says when he opens his mouth.
“Don’t, what?” Archie’s eyebrows fly to his hairline.
“You’ll ruin it.”
The way she says it is quite cold, but he doesn’t really let her glare intimidate him, because it’s not like she’s not interested. “I’m Archie,” he says, giving her his best smile. He swears he sees the corner of her lips trembling.
“See? It’s ruined.”
He chuckles. “What’s ruined?”
“Our little secret.” She glances down at the watch on her wrist, and Archie’s mind wanders to how amazing her mouth felt when she kissed him an hour ago. It makes him press his lips together, suppressing a smile.
“Actually, I think the flight attendant was kind of onto us, so…”
“Oh well,” she almost smiles too, the tiniest of grins, “she’ll have to be killed.”
Archie laughs then, maybe a bit too hard, but he doesn’t really care. Pretty Girl spots her luggage coming towards her because she takes one step closer to the belt. He follows her. “I’m Archie. Andrews.”
“That’s what you keep saying,” she says, taking the bag from the belt before Archie can even try to help her.
“Woah. You don’t make it easy for a guy, do you?”
She really smiles then, laughs even. It makes her look a hundred times more beautiful. Archie knows that she’s laughing at him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care. “I think I made it pretty easy for you back there, Archie Andrews.”
She starts to walk towards the exit door, rolling her luggage. Archie doesn’t know if he should follow, but he is going in the same direction.
They eventually fall into step together. She keeps throwing him glances, and it makes him brave enough to continue his attempt at a conversation. He lists, in his mind, what he knows about her: she smokes, reads magazines, and knows what she wants. Oh, she’s also a One World member.
“So, first-class, huh?” he asks but feels stupid as soon as he does. Maybe he should’ve talked about the magazine. “You travel a lot and get points?”
“What? Are we friends now?”
Archie can’t help but smirk, thinking about her nails on his back. “I’d say we’re a little bit more than that.”
This seems to get her attention. She looks him up and down, another smile tugging at her lips. “My dad is a millionaire,” she answers, all nonchalant. It makes Archie almost roll his eyes because, of course, she isn’t going to give anything away until he’s begging for it.
“Sure.”
This makes her stop, looking over at him. “You ask me a question and don’t believe my answer?” she probes. Archie shrugs too. “Strike two,” she concludes and keeps on walking.
“Strike two?” Archie frowns, stopping. He needs to go in the opposite direction if he wants to get to the subway station, and Pretty Girl seems to be heading to the exit. “What was strike one?”
She doesn’t answer that, looking at him over her shoulder one more time. However, she does say, “It’s Veronica, by the way,” before leaving through the automatic doors.
While in the subway heading to Lower Manhattan, Archie’s social media search of Veronica + Chicago and then Veronica + New York doesn’t get him anywhere — there are a lot of Veronicas everywhere. He did give her his full name, though, so he figures she will reach out if she wants to.
He also knows there’s a — quite big — chance that she doesn’t want to, so he decides to let it go as soon as the train stops at his station.
Jughead’s waiting for him outside with a cardboard sign that says LOSER. They both beam when they see each other. It’s really nice to see his childhood friend after so many months apart, even if they talk almost every day and play online games every other weekend.
They walk to the apartment, which Jughead shares with two other dudes, Nathan and Fogarty, who for some reason go by Sweet Pea and Fangs. They’re chill, even though Sweet Pea warns Archie not to drink all his beer.
The city is busier than Archie expected, even busier than Chicago at its peak. Jughead takes him to see most of Lower Manhattan, Brooklyn, and some museums here and there as they catch up over cups of coffee. Jug seems to be doing well in college. He loves his major, photography, and living in the city.
“There’s also this girl…” Jughead says, quite shy, when they’re at the Brooklyn Waterfront, looking at Manhattan across the Hudson River. Archie wants to tease him but bites his tongue as he listens to his friend gush about this pink-haired girl that goes to class with him, but who probably isn’t interested.
Archie also shares some stories with Jug — not The Veronica story, because that’s something he thinks he wants to keep to himself, even though no one would believe him anyway. They talk mainly about Archie’s plans for the future. Not going to college was his choice — one that gave his mom a permanent headache. Sometimes, he thinks he might be missing out, but his dreams of living for his music are solid.
He and Kevin finally found a bassist for the band, a guy named Moose, and now they're searching for a drummer. As soon as they have one, everything will come together. They’re going to hit the charts.
When the weekend ends, Jughead has to go back to class, and Archie decides to venture into the city on his own. There’s still a lot he hasn’t seen, especially in Uptown, so that’s where he heads.
Archie explores Central Park, giving some spare change to a guy who’s playing guitar at Strawberry Fields and singing Imagine. He takes pictures as he crosses the park from West to East, sends his mom some selfies, and starts walking down Fifth Avenue.
He stops at a tourist stand and buys a bottle of water, when an ambulance tears down the busy street, pulling his attention to its path. Just as its colorful blur passes by Archie’s eyes, he sees her — Veronica — and he cannot believe it.
Just like the first time they met, she’s smoking a cigarette while leaning against a wall, right next to what looks like a very fancy restaurant. She’s wearing a black, lacey dress with a white collar, sheer black tights, and the same boots from the airplane. She looks different, more preppy, her makeup lighter, but she still manages to suck the air out of Archie’s lungs.
Archie smiles to himself, dumbfounded, not really believing that this is happening again. He doesn’t think twice before crossing the street and making his way towards her.
When Veronica spots him, she chokes on her inhale. It’s quite nice to see the way she loses her self-control while working through her surprise. It gets him more confident.
“You know, kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray.”
Veronica’s cough turns into a small laugh, and she shakes her head. “Really?” she counters. She’s wearing her hair half-up today, but it’s so short that some strands are falling around her face. “What’s screwing one like?”
Archie laughs, his ears heating up despite the cold October air. “Could be worse.”
She seems to enjoy the flattery and takes another drag, eyeing Archie up and down again. He scratches the back of his neck, searching for something else to say, but Veronica speaks when she blows out the smoke. “What sign are you?”
He frowns. “What sign am I?” She nods, briefly wetting her lips. Archie doesn’t know what that has to do with anything. “Uh, Cancer, I guess.”
Veronica scrunches her nose. “Ugh. Strike three,” she says, and Archie’s mouth hangs open. He’s about to ask her — one more time — what strike one was, when speaks again. “Are you stalking me?”
Archie can’t help but snort. “Yes,” he jokes.
“Typical Cancer.” Veronica takes one last drag before crushing the cigarette butt under her heel. Then, she takes a quick glance at the restaurant door before looking back at him. “So, what are you up to? Do you wanna do something?”
“What? Are we friends now?” He mimics what she said the other day at the airport, making her slightly roll her eyes. She’s about to say something when a fucking limousine pulls up at the sidewalk.
Veronica’s expression changes completely when she sees the car. The driver walks around the car to open the back door. A man in his late forties emerges from it, wearing a suit and a purple tie. He closes the middle button of his jacket before helping a woman get out of the car. She’s blonde and good-looking, even if clearly fake-tanned.
“Mija,” the man greets when he sees Veronica. Archie has to control his face, so his jaw doesn’t drop. So, that’s her millionaire father. “I’m so sorry we’re late for lunch. There was this meeting…” He sighs, and the blonde woman rubs his arm supportively. Archie steals a glance at Veronica, but she’s wearing a rather unreadable expression. When he looks at her father again, he’s staring right at him. “Is your friend joining us?”
Archie, who is wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, looks like a beggar next to every member of this family. Veronica’s father — and her… mother? — knows it too, because he doesn’t look all that pleased when he takes in Archie’s figure. “Uh, actually…”
“No, Daddy,” Veronica thankfully chimes in. “This is Archie, and Archie, this is my father, Hiram.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.” Archie shakes Hiram’s hand. A firm handshake but not too strong, just like his father told him once. The blonde woman also reaches out to greet him.
“I’m Kate.”
“Daddy’s wife,” Veronica quickly adds. By the tone of her voice, Archie can tell this might be a sensitive topic. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something, Daddy. Would you mind if I skipped lunch?”
That doesn’t seem to please him. “Mija, you’re only in town for another day.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” she breathes out, suddenly looking very sad and worried. “But Archie here, he… Well,” she touches Archie’s arm, looking up at him, “do you mind if I tell them?”
Archie almost chuckles at the face she’s making, but he manages to control himself and play along. “No, not at all. Go ahead.”
“He’s getting some test results back today, and he was hoping I could go with him.” Oh, no, she didn’t, comes to Archie’s mind as Veronica wraps one arm around his torso, pulling him into a half-hug. He has no choice but to put his arm around her shoulders, nodding and seemingly grateful for the support. “It’s a scary time. His doctor’s appointment is in half an hour.”
Hiram frowns and doesn’t seem to enjoy the fact that his daughter is touching someone who could possibly be ill, but it’s ultimately Kate who speaks, almost too sweet. “Oh, of course, dear. Let us know how it goes.”
“I’ll have breakfast with you guys,” Veronica says, apologetic, as she pinches Archie’s side.
“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “I appreciate it. Veronica’s been a rock for me, through and through.”
Hiram purses his lips, not really liking the situation, but his wife pats his back. “Well, I guess we can still have our table,” he says amidst a sigh. “Good luck, young man.”
Veronica lets Archie go as soon as her father and his wife go inside the restaurant, and then she starts walking. He has to quicken his pace so they can fall into step side by side. “Stuff like that isn’t funny,” he tells her. Veronica throws him a look. “First of all, you don’t joke about health, and second of all, you only get one chance to make a first impression.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why do you care what my dad thinks about you?”
“I… don’t.” Archie heaves out a breath. “But what if we hit it off? Become a thing, or something?”
“A thing?” Veronica giggles, turning around so she’s walking backwards in front of him. “Why would I become a thing with a guy who I know, from experience, will jump into an airplane bathroom with a complete stranger?”
“That was with you!” Archie exclaims. Veronica shrugs, turning around again, her hair flipping. The dress she’s wearing has a dozen little pearls along the back zipper. “You won’t become a thing with me because I had sex with you?”
“And you didn’t have a condom,” she points out about the same time they’re passing by a couple pushing a stroller. They seem to hear her. Archie feels his face on fire again.
“That’s because I don’t walk around carrying condoms and expecting to be jumped by strangers,” he says, purposefully loud so the couple hears, and Veronica laughs, throwing her head back. Archie shakes his head, wanting to feel indignant but not being able to stop a smile from creeping onto his lips. “It’s fine. I don’t want a girlfriend, anyways.”
“From a thing to a girlfriend,” she crosses the street and Archie follows, only now realizing that they’ve walked a couple of blocks and turned a few times, and he has no idea where he is. Veronica, however, seems to know the area quite well. “Things have escalated quickly.”
“You know what I mean.”
She stops when they reach some bar, pushing the heavy wooden door and nodding towards the interior. “Not really, but we can have a drink while you explain.”
Veronica has a fake ID, and the bartender doesn’t bat one eyelash at it. Soon, a bottle of rum and two cans of Coke are in front of them. Archie looks at his watch while Veronica mixes her drink in a glass with ice and lime wedges, a bit worried that she’s planning to get them shitfaced at two in the afternoon. Yet, he follows her lead.
“So, Archie Andrews,” she asks after they clink their glasses together, “why a boy-next-door-ish type like you wouldn’t want a girlfriend?”
Archie probably blushes and then takes a sip of his own cocktail, more Coke than rum, because he’s never been a hard liquor guy. “I do want one. It’s just… first things first, you know?” Veronica knits her eyebrows together, prompting him to go on. “My band is my priority, right now. After that is figured out, I can think about settling down.”
“Your band?” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Oh, right, you were carrying a guitar case at the airport.”
The fact that she remembers that makes Archie weirdly happy. He suppresses a smile by taking another sip. “Yeah. I write some songs, as well. I’ve been researching, and it normally takes bands six years to get one great hit. Once we’re out there, we can maybe get a record deal and, you know, make it into the industry.”
“And when you become Bon Jovi, the love of your life will just come to one of your gigs and find you?”
Veronica looks at him over the rim of her glass. Fuck, she’s really pretty. “Maybe I’ll find her. Who knows?”
“That sounds romantic…” she trails off, twirling the ice in her glass with her straw. “But it’s not really effective, is it? How many bands do get a great hit in six years, out of nowhere? And meanwhile, how are you going to make money?”
“Geez, you sound like my mom.” Archie wrinkles his forehead. Veronica tilts her head, waiting for a proper answer. “Look, music is my passion. I know it’s a little… uncertain, but I’m willing to try and do whatever it takes. As for the money, I’ll figure something out.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” She clearly isn’t convinced. Archie sighs — it’s not the first time someone is condescending about his expectations, so he doesn’t let it get to him. Maybe the alcohol is starting to affect him, but he feels bolder after she says that.
“Okay, Ronnie. You don’t believe me, so let’s make a bet,” he says as he fishes out his little notebook, the one he uses for writing songs, from his backpack.
Archie feels Veronica watching him. “What are you doing?”
“This,” he rips out a page and hands it to her, who looks from the paper to him, dimples forming around her mouth, “is my parents’ phone number. In six years, when you hear a song by The Kazoos on the radio, you’ll call my house. No worries, I’ll tell them about you. You’ll ask them how to reach me. When they give you my number, you’ll ask me where to send the fifty bucks you owe me.”
“Your parents? Why don’t you just give me your phone number?”
“Because I’ll obviously need to change it, once I’m famous.”
Veronica seems amused. “Fifty bucks?”
“Oh, right, you’re a millionaire. Make it a hundred.”
She giggles, folding the piece of paper carefully and placing it in her jacket pocket. “My dad is a millionaire. I’m not.” She takes a big sip of her cocktail. Archie watches the way her lips pucker around the straw. “Alright, Bon Jovi. Hundred dollars it is.”
They leave the bar after five. They’ve talked a lot, drank too many Cuba Libres, and shared plates of greasy food. Turns out Veronica also lives in Chicago — she studies at Northwestern University with a scholarship she worked hard to get. She plans on going to business school too, but she wants to do everything on her own. After her mom got sick and her dad found another woman before her mom had even passed away, she promised herself she wouldn’t accept his help anymore. Or his company. Or his money, if she could help it.
Archie admired her as she spoke. From the moment he saw her, he knew there was more than what meets the eyes, but after spending this afternoon listening to her opinions and watching the different expressions on her pretty face, he is still pleasantly surprised.
It seemed quite easy for him to make her laugh, and he likes that too.
It’s already getting darker outside, definitely colder, but the fresh air is welcomed because it sobers them up a little. Veronica immediately lights a cigarette, something Archie wants to be bothered about but isn’t. They take selfies together as they walk their way down Fifth Avenue. She basically steals his phone to take pictures of him, telling him to make silly poses in front of the Empire State Building.
Veronica takes him into another building, one that seems very random. She speaks to the doorman and soon she grabs Archie’s hand, taking him into the elevator, pressing the last floor. They look at each other as the elevator goes up, and she giggles at him, still quite tipsy, her mascara a bit smudged under her eye. Archie reaches out to wipe it off with his thumb.
She gets more serious, and for a second, Archie wonders if she’ll kiss him. But when the elevator stops with a ping, the moment is gone.
On the rooftop there’s no one else but them. The city lights are astounding — Archie had seen it already from the Brooklyn Waterfront with Jug, but it’s just different when you’re looking at them from above.
He takes a few more pictures but then pockets his phone. Veronica presses to his side and he instinctively wraps one arm around her. It’s a nice fit and an even better feel. They watch in silence as the night falls around them, and he only moves when she does.
“I gotta go,” she whispers. Archie feels his heartbeat quickening. Why? He wants to ask, but he doesn’t, his eyes searching her face. He didn’t have any plans for where today could take them, but he doesn’t feel— he’s definitely not ready to say goodbye. “Thanks for saving me today, Archiekins.”
The nickname makes one corner of his lips curl up. He looks at Veronica. They’re both facing each other, and Manhattan is lighting them up. He should kiss her. He wants to. No, scratch that, he needs to kiss her. Their encounter on the airplane was so rushed, so blurry, and as amazing as it was, he wants to show her that he can do better. Maybe he can sweep her off her feet? They live in the same city. They—
His thoughts are interrupted by Veronica, closing the distance between them before Archie can even react. She kisses him softly, tentatively. Archie sighs, resting his hands on her waist to bring her closer, opening his mouth against hers.
They kiss slowly, surely, and he brings one of his hands to her face, cupping her jaw. But then, she stops him with her hand around his wrist, stepping back.
Archie opens his eyes. “Ronnie—”
She shakes her head, taking another step back and smiling softly. “Don’t ruin it.”
( 22 )
There she goes, there she goes again
And I cannot contain these feelings that remain
Veronica runs to cross W Randolph Street before the traffic light changes from red to green. Although it’s freezing and the streets are quite wet, she has nothing to worry about — she’s been walking in high heels since she’s what? Twelve? Eleven? She's fine.
She walks into the tall building with her chin up, tapping her ID card and passing through the turnstile. The security guard holds the elevator for her — it’s empty. She goes all the way up to the 16th floor, where the office is.
“Morning, V,” Evelyn greets as soon as she reaches the desk they share. “Oh, my, I love your scarf.”
Veronica smiles, touching the soft, blush color material around her neck. “Thanks. It’s inspired by Valentino’s last collection, actually. I just added the lace and—”
“Yada, yada. Do we pay you to chat or to work?”
Evelyn and Veronica look at each other, the former trying hard not to eyeroll at Nick St. Clair, their boss, who’s only their boss because he’s the company’s heir.
“You need to loosen up a little, Nick,” Evelyn says, non-apologetic. The fact that Nick is their age, and mostly a pig, earns him no respect, even from interns. “It’s almost the new year. Maybe you should work on some resolutions.”
“And maybe you should just work. Also, I’ve been telling V, here, that I’ll loosen up with her whenever she wants.”
Veronica glances over at him. She’s mostly disgusted by his face — not that he’s unattractive, he’s just so repulsive — but, sometimes, she sees him for what he is: a preppy, empty, shitty guy with the world in his pocket. Someone she should pity.
It makes her think about herself and what could have been, had she not given her father the cold shoulder a long time ago.
She opens her mouth, almost telling him to fuck off, but ends up only giving him a fake smile. “I have a boyfriend,” she says, because for guys like Nick, that’s all that matters. Another man.
Well, she does have a boyfriend, too. Almost four years, now, if she counts their on-and-off phase.
“Of course, you do. Now, go and make nineteen copies of this file. There’s a board meeting at nine. Don’t forget that I take my coffee with stevia.”
Veronica keeps smiling, even though there’s a horrible, salty taste on the back of her tongue. She takes a deep breath when Nick turns around, repeating the mantra inside her head: you’re building a career. You’re building a career. You’re building a career.
Evelyn makes a gagging sound, and it makes Veronica laugh. “Well, that gives us five minutes for a cigarette.”
“You know I quit.”
Evelyn sighs. “So, you say.”
Veronica leaves work after almost everyone else has left. She’d normally take the train from West Loop Gate to Roger’s Park, but tonight, she walks a few blocks to a restaurant, where she’s supposed to meet Reggie. Thirty minutes ago.
He’s already at a table by the window when she gets there. He waves when he sees her at the door as she puts her coat on the rack.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she says when she approaches him, leaning in to kiss him. “Today was chaotic. Nick was especially annoying. Did you order already?”
“Only some beer,” he answers amidst a sigh, the beer bottle in front of him almost empty. Veronica takes her seat, unfolds the napkin on her lap, and thanks the waiter who approaches her with a menu. “Have we ever had the linguini on pesto?”
“Al pesto,” Veronica corrects him with a small giggle. “I’m not sure. I think we had one a few weeks ago but not here.”
“Mmhmm.”
They continue reading the menu for a couple minutes and choose their dishes. After writing down their orders, the waiter brings her a glass of red wine and another beer for Reggie. They lock eyes when they clink their drinks, and Veronica grins before she takes a sip. Her man looks handsome, as usual. “You know what I’m looking forward to?”
Reggie shrugs. “Nick getting the flu or something?”
“That would be amazing, but no.” She giggles. “Going home, taking off these shoes, and having a hot bath. Maybe you’ll join me?”
He puckers his mouth, as if considering the offer. He knows her apartment is empty for a couple more days, before her roommates come back from spending Christmas in their hometown. Veronica drinks more, feeling the wine relaxing her shoulder muscles, when Reggie reaches out to take her hand, an interesting glow in his narrow eyes. “Or…” he starts, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, a smirk on his lips that gets her a bit excited. “We could go to this really dope party at Steve’s house?”
It’s like a bucket of cold water over her head. “Really? I’m offering you a hot bathtub with me in it, and you want me to go to a frat house?”
Reggie lets go of her hand, leaning back in his chair. “C’mon, V. It’s been ages since you've gone out with me.”
“I’m here with you, right now. We see each other every—”
“I mean out there.” Reggie points out the window. “We’re twenty-two, and all we do is have dinner, go to bed, go grocery shopping…”
“We don’t go grocery shopping.”
“You know what I mean.” He gives her a look. “You’re not… Look, you used to be the best person to hang out with, but now it’s like— you’re just not fun anymore.”
Veronica scoffs, her mouth hanging open. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t want to go out every day, but I’m tired. I’m working my ass off lately, if you haven’t noticed.” She clenches her jaw. “I’m building a career.”
Reggie nearly rolls his eyes. “You’re serving coffee to a douchebag.”
It hurts. It hurts, and it stings. She feels the anger bubbling up inside of her. “And you’re still living off your dad’s allowance.”
His eyebrows travel towards his hairline. “Great. Really nice.” Veronica wants to feel bad for saying what she just did, but right now, she doesn’t. She keeps her head up. Reggie throws his napkin on the table. “I guess I’m done here.”
Veronica’s face twists in confusion. “What do you mean you’re done here?”
“I’m done.” Reggie shrugs. “We’re done. I can’t do this anymore.”
“You’re better off without him.” Betty rubs soft, comforting circles on Veronica’s back. “That’s what I think.”
“Of course, she’s better off.” Cheryl throws the blonde an icy look, her hand on Veronica’s knee. “Look, I didn’t say anything while you two were together, but Reggie Mantle… Ew.”
It’s probably supposed to cheer her up, but Veronica chuckles and sobs at the same time.
“Don’t say that, Cher.” Betty speaks in her usual sweet voice. “We’re so sorry this happened, V.”
Cheryl rolls her eyes. “Right before New Year’s? Scumbag.”
Betty nods. “Yeah. That wasn’t nice of him, at all.”
“So what if I didn’t want to go to Steve’s stupid party?” Veronica furiously wipes away her tears — she hates that she’s been crying on and off for the past two days. She commanded herself to stop already, but it always comes back to her. “He said I was no longer fun. Can you believe that?” Cheryl and Betty pretend not to exchange a look. Veronica raises her eyebrows. “Oh, my God, you two agree with him!”
Betty blurts out a high-pitched, “What? No!” at the same time Cheryl looks away, a hand behind her neck. Veronica narrows her swollen eyes at both of her roommates.
Cheryl is the first to give in, clicking her tongue. “Look, I’m on your side, and I would never agree with anything that fuckboy says, but I do think you need to shake things up. You should go with me and Sheila to that New Year’s Eve party. Even Betty is going!”
Veronica turns her head to look at Betty, suspiciously. Betty has always been the biggest homebody between the three of them, and she’s looking at Cheryl like she didn’t know about any party until this very moment.
“I… am.” Betty smiles at Veronica after a second. “We should all go to the party. Dilton will come too.”
Veronica feels her body sinking into the couch’s backrest. “Great. If you two have dates, I might as well just stay home eating gelato.”
“Oh, c’mon. No,” Cheryl crosses her arms, “enough wallowing. You’re Veronica freaking Lodge. If you can’t find a date for New Year’s Eve, I don’t know who can. Besides, Reggie is going. Do you really want to give him the satisfaction of having a point?”
Veronica sighs. She knows it’s just pep talk, but for some reason, it ignites something inside of her. “You’re right.” She sits up again. “Enough of this already. If he wants fun Veronica, I’ll show him fun Veronica.”
Betty and Cheryl smile proudly at her.
Easier said than done.
Late morning on December 31st, as Veronica scrolls down the contact list on her phone, she realizes that maybe agreeing to this challenge wasn’t the best idea.
There are a bunch of people she could text, guys and girls she was briefly involved with during the on-and-off phase in the early days of her relationship with Reggie. But after years of radio silence, how can she just approach them? Hey gorgeous, sorry for not answering your last text like, never, wanna hang out on New Year’s?
Sounds like desperation.
She supposes she could invite another single girl friend, maybe Evelyn, but the mere thought of explaining to someone what happened is nauseating. Plus, it’s better if Nick never finds out that she and Reggie broke up.
Deciding to think about this later, Veronica sets her phone down and gets up from her bed, opening her closet doors. She sighs as she analyzes all the things in her closet, wondering what she could wear for the party. Except for some pieces she saved from her mom’s wardrobe, nothing is really haute couture anymore, but she still appreciates everything she owns — and all the little changes she made so they could be just hers.
For some reason, her eyes are drawn to a green, military jacket she hasn’t noticed since forever, perhaps years. Veronica takes it and tries it on, trying to remember when and where she last wore it, and it comes back to her mind — New York, paired up with the lacey dress, the one that she sewed pearls along the zipper.
Her heartbeat picks up when she slides her hand into one of the pockets. Folded and worn, because she probably forgot about it when she last washed the jacket, the piece of paper was still there. She feels her lips pulling into a smile when she unfolds it, carefully as if it could disintegrate.
Archie Andrews (parents)
( 773)-855-9230
Veronica sits back down on her bed, staring at the paper. It’s been a good while since she thought about Archie Andrews, the redheaded hottie she met at the airport and that managed to distract her from all the bad things in existence, at least for a few hours.
The airplane sex was something, she supposes. He was hot, definitely interested, and she was sick of waiting for Reggie to decide if they would or wouldn’t take things further than their fling. So, yeah, she jumped him. She never thought she’d see him again.
But when Archie found her, right before she was about to sit down with her dad and Kate, two days after the anniversary of her mom's death (the reason why she was in New York, anyway), she thought: fuck, that is a sign if I’ve ever seen one.
Veronica bites her lower lip, thumb running over his name. Maybe…
Could it be?
Don’t be dumb, she tells herself, refraining from picking up her phone. It’s been over four years. She had all his information this entire time, and she never used it, never even thought about using it, never tried to look him up on social media. She remembers thinking to herself: well, we live in the same city, maybe we’ll cross paths again. But they never did. Things with Reggie (finally) got serious, and Archie just stayed buried in her memory. He was like a dream she had once, one that makes you wake up with a smile on your lips but completely separated from reality.
She sits there for another long minute before thinking you know what? and picking up her phone, typing the numbers quickly so she won't have the chance to talk herself out of it.
“Hi, this is Fred Andrews,” a man’s voice comes through after it rings a couple of times, and Veronica freezes. “Hello? Hello?”
It takes her a moment to regain her nerve, but she eventually manages to say, “Hi. Hi, uh… Is Archie there?” She squints her eyes shut, aware that she sounds like an idiot.
“Yeah sure, hold on, sweetheart.” The voice on the other end says politely. Veronica almost hangs up when she hears a muffled yell. “Arch! Phone!”
Veronica panics for a second. She didn’t think about what she would say to him — to be honest, she just assumed no one would pick up, or that he wouldn’t be at home, or—
“Thanks, Dad. Hello?”
Oh, my. “Archie! Hi!”
“Um, hi. Who’s this?” Archie asks, almost a bit distracted, as if he’s in the middle of something. Veronica takes a deep breath. Okay, now is not the time to chicken out.
“This is… Veronica. I don’t know if you remember me.”
There’s a long moment of silence. Veronica swallows, expecting to hear a click, but what comes next is Archie’s voice, now no longer distracted. “New York, Veronica?”
She breathes out, relieved, even smiles a little. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” There’s more silence after that, and Veronica isn’t sure, but it sounded like Archie just got the wind knocked out of him. At least that’s how she feels. “Wow, okay, uh, what’s… What’s up?”
“I just came across your number all of a sudden, and I was thinking to myself… Oh, I wonder how Archie’s doing. Is he still in Chicago?” Veronica bites her lip. “Crazy, right? Anyways, I know you’re probably busy tonight, but I thought… Maybe you’d like to grab a coffee this afternoon? You know, catch up?”
She’s prepared for his excuse, but she definitely isn’t prepared for him saying, “Sure.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yeah.” There’s a slight hesitation in his voice, and this feels too easy. “Sure, yeah. Where are you? I can come over after lunch, and we can find somewhere to go.”
Come over? Veronica looks around, her heart beating fast. Cheryl and Betty are still home, but they’re going out soon to have lunch with their partners. They’re only supposed to meet again at the party.
“Well, yeah. Yeah, great, I’ll— do you want to give me your cell number? I can text you my address.”
After not having too much for lunch, Veronica decides to wash the dishes but ends up cleaning the entire kitchen/living room area, just so she has something to do with her hands while she waits for Archie Andrews to arrive at 4 PM. When everything looks spotless — and there’s still over an hour left — she starts to get ready, putting in a huge amount of effort to pull together an effortless look.
She curls her hair and then smooths the curls with a brush, so they look just slightly wavy and a bit messy, wake-up-like-this hair. She does her make up in a soft way, earthy tones on her eyes and just a bit of mascara; a rosy stain on her lips. She dresses as if she was just lounging in her house, but also ready to leave at any moment, black skinny jeans and an oversized grey sweater with pearls she sewed all over the sleeves.
Staring at the mirror, Veronica thinks she looks good. She also thinks she’s being ridiculous, doing all of this for a guy that she hasn’t seen in four years. She’s in her bathroom, wondering if she should do bolder makeup or change outfits, when the bell rings, and the dog that lives one apartment above her starts barking.
Veronica runs to the kitchen so she can answer the intercom. “Hello?”
“Hi, it's me,” Archie says, apparently very much there already. Her stomach sinks a little — what the hell did she have in mind when she called him?
You invited him. Now you have to own it. “Yeah, uh, the gate is sorta broken, so give it a jiggle and push.”
She looks around the very tidy space. Damn, it looks like no one has ever lived here. Veronica decides to mess it up a bit, putting some very clean glasses in the sink, and fluffing the pillows on the couch. She opens a magazine too, leaving it on the coffee table so she can pretend she was reading it before he got there.
There’s a knock on her door a minute later, and she takes a couple of settling breaths before opening it.
The pair of golden-brown eyes widen a little when they meet hers. Veronica opens her mouth, almost as if her breath hitched — Archie Andrews looks even better than he did four years ago, his jaw more defined, his red hair shorter. Suddenly, inviting him doesn’t feel like a bad idea at all.
“Hi again,” he says, his Adam’s apple going up and down when he swallows, that same adorable flush appearing on his face.
Veronica can’t help but smile at him. “Hi. You look good.”
“You look different,” he says, biting his lower lip. Veronica raises her eyebrows. “No, but like, good different. Nice. I like the long hair.”
She giggles at his babbling, something he definitely did back when they first met. It seems like things haven’t changed too much in that department. “Thanks. Come in.”
Archie smiles briefly, taking off his gloves when he walks into her apartment. Veronica closes the door and watches him look around.
“Oh,” Archie says when she offers to take his quilted jacket when he takes it off, “thanks.”
“No problem.” She puts his things on a rack next to the door. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees that he's wearing a dark green sweater underneath, something that looks like soft cashmere, and it accentuates all the right lines of his torso — his shoulder blades, his chest.
“Your place is nice.”
“Oh, it isn’t exactly mine. It’s my friend’s, Cheryl. When her brother moved, she didn’t want to live alone, so she invited me and another girl to share it with her. It’s close to campus, so it's convenient.”
Archie nods but doesn’t make any comments. They stand in the living room for a moment, looking at each other — Archie with his hands shoved into his pockets, Veronica chewing on the inside of her lower lip. She knows he’s waiting for her to be a good host and break the ice, but right now all she can think of is damn, he looks so fine, fighting a war with herself. Should she give into this sudden urge and jump him like she did on the airplane so many years ago, or should she offer him something to drink?
There’s a bunch of downsides to the first option. One, she doesn’t know anything about him — he did accept her invitation quite quickly, but what if he has a girlfriend? Two, she doesn’t want to be the girl who needs to make out with someone after a breakup just to prove that—
Before she can stop herself, she kisses him.
Veronica isn’t proud of it. In fact, she’s about to pull away and apologize, when Archie kisses her back, opening his mouth against hers and breathing in deeply. He holds her by the waist with one arm, bringing her body closer, and whatever happened in these four years taught him one thing or two about kissing, because he places his other hand in her hair, fingers curling around the black strands and pulling slightly.
She almost moans against his mouth, and that’s what brings her back to reality. She hasn’t kissed someone that wasn’t Reggie in years. To indulge in a hot rendezvous doesn't seem right. Plus, she doesn't want Archie to think this is the reason she called him.
Veronica pulls away, pushing his shoulders and running a hand through her hair. She could laugh at how puzzled he looks, if only she wasn’t trying to catch her breath. “Do you, uh, do you want anything to drink? There’s diet Coke. I could make some coffee,” she says, already on her way to the kitchen.
“I’m, uh…” Archie mumbles, one hand on the back of his neck, obviously confused by the sudden mood change. Veronica can’t blame him. “I’m good, thanks.”
“I think coffee will be nice.” She opens the fridge even though the coffee powder is somewhere else entirely. The cool air helps her face to stop burning. She’s embarrassed by her actions, but then it hits her, how Archie was so willing. She turns to him, looking at him through the threshold. “I can’t believe you assumed this was what this was about.”
He knits his eyebrows together, cheeks no longer red. “You can’t believe I assumed that was about the… what?”
“I’m not the same girl you met four years ago, you know,” Veronica rambles, scanning the items in the fridge, wondering what she could get from it that would make some sense. She hears Archie walking into the kitchen.
“Do I?”
There’s a tease in his voice that she remembers well. She closes the fridge, turning around to look at him. He’s not really looking at her — he’s opening a drawer close to him, and then another one, a small, amused smile on the corner of his lips.
“I mean, I am the same girl, but it’s not… I don’t do things like that anymore.”
“I understand.” He pulls another drawer and then opens a cabinet.
“I genuinely just came across your number. It’s not like I premeditated this and called you so you could be some sort of rebound therap…” she stops talking when she notices Archie crossing the kitchen, apparently searching for something, exploring all the counters, and even inside a cereal box, the small smile never disappearing from his face. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for your crazy pills,” he answers as he looks above the fridge. “They have to be around here for moments like these, right?”
“That’s not funny,” Veronica says, but she’s already chuckling, especially because now Archie is looking at her with a soft, genuine smile — she hates how adorable he looks. “What happened to ‘we shouldn’t joke about health’? What if I really was crazy?”
He giggles, shaking his head. “Do you wanna eat something? I couldn’t really have lunch. I was nervous about meeting you, but now I can’t figure out why.”
Veronica rolls her eyes in faux annoyance. “Is that how you talk to all your dates?”
He shrugs, his hands in his pockets again, his smile getting bigger.
“This is a date, then?”
It isn’t a date. Veronica repeats that more than once as they walk from the apartment to the tapas restaurant that she goes to with the girls quite often. Archie keeps a smug smile on his face, like he doesn’t believe her at all.
It doesn’t really matter what he thinks.
Although it’s weird to walk side by side with Archie after so long, it also… isn’t, for some reason. It’s like they’re back to that day in New York, for a moment, nothing but giggling against the cold breeze, the sun setting around them.
She remembers being essentially still a teen and drinking Cuba Libres with him in one of her favorite bars in the Upper East Side — the one that didn’t give a shit about her fake ID. This time, they’re legal adults sitting across from each other at a nicer table, in a nicer place. The restaurant is quite empty — no one’s eating anything at 5PM on New Year’s Eve — but there is a fire crackling in the fireplace and single flower arrangements decorating the tables. They order papas bravas, olives, and stuffed mushrooms to share and a bottle of tempranillo.
“Not a date,” Veronica reminds him when they’re about to clink their wine glasses.
“Cheers to that.”
They take a sip, accidentally looking at each other over their drinks. Veronica ends up laughing, her face warm, as if she’s blushing. “Look at us. All grown up.”
“At least pretending to be all grown up.” Archie smiles, popping an olive into his mouth. There’s low, indie-rock music playing in the background. “What have you been doing?”
“Well, I graduated, then I started business school. I’m currently studying and interning at STC Financial. Just building a career, you know?”
Archie nods, attentive. “Financial, huh? Like your dad?”
Veronica frowns a little, surprised that he remembers the conversation they had that afternoon, about how she refused to follow her father’s footsteps and inherit Lodge Industries. She took him to the company’s headquarters later, kissed him with Manhattan’s lights at their feet. That was a nice moment. “Well, I suppose it’s what he does, but I’m not working for him, so…” she trails off, twirling the wine in her glass. “How about you?”
Archie narrows his eyes, like he caught that she changed the subject of the conversation on purpose. “I’m moving to LA. Kevin, our lead singer, found this manager that might have us play at some festivals, so…”
“Oh, right! The band! Becoming Bon Jovi.” Veronica smiles. Archie slightly rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. “It’s what now? Two years until you hit the charts?”
“Yep,” he seems confident, “and two years until you send me those hundred bucks you’ll owe me.”
“Ha-ha,” Veronica says, ironically, and Archie wiggles his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his wine. She’s left with a lingering grin on her face. “How’s that working out for you? Wrote any good songs yet?”
“We have a few songs up on Spotify, some followers… You should listen to us.” Veronica watches as he takes his phone from his pocket. He shows her the screen after a moment — it’s their profile on Spotify, Archie and three other equally handsome guys in a black and white picture that looks very professional.
“Archie and The Hotties?” she jokes, making him chuckle as he sets his phone down. She still remembers his band’s name, for some reason — The Kazoos — like it’s been in the back of her mind all this time. She doesn’t know why she never looked them up. Probably the same reason why she never tried to contact him. “Any songs about me?”
Archie tilts his head, his gaze suddenly wandering, lips still curled up. “You won’t know unless you listen to them.” His eyes go back to her face.
Veronica wets her lips and takes another sip of her wine, just so her grin doesn’t give away whatever’s fluttering inside her. They eat and drink in silence for a few minutes, until Archie decides to resume the conversation.
“So,” he starts, patting his mouth with the napkin, “who dumped who?”
Veronica frowns. “What?”
“Your breakup. Who dumped who?”
“Who said I had a breakup?” she shoots back, replenishing her wine glass.
“You did,” Archie responds, taking another bite of his stuffed mushroom. “You called me your rebound therapy during your hypoglycemic rant.”
Veronica has to press her lips together in a thin line, so she doesn’t laugh. He’s ridiculous. “I said you weren’t my rebound therapy.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Please, Ronnie. Why else would you call me after all this time?” Archie asks like he already has the answer. She opens her mouth to protest — she told him the truth, at least half of it — but he shakes his head. “I don’t mind, by the way. I just wanna know the story.”
“Well,” she takes another sip, “when you and I met, I was… half-involved with this guy, Reggie. When I wanted something serious, he didn’t. When he wanted something serious, I didn’t.” Archie nods, knowingly. “Eventually we got together. And I thought things were fine, but four days ago he had the courage to dump me, kinda out of nowhere,” she completes with a sigh.
“Asshole.”
Veronica giggles at his comment. “Anyway, I might have been looking for a date to this New Year’s party so I could shove it in his face that he made a huge mistake, but then I genuinely just stumbled across your number. I didn’t think you’d still live with your parents.”
“I don’t. It’s funny, I was there picking up some old stuff I have to take with me, when you called.”
“Destiny, then?” Veronica kinks one eyebrow, wondering if the wine is making her flirt with him. That adorable blush from before comes back to his cheeks when their eyes meet. She takes a deep breath. “You probably have plans, already. And, to be honest, those parties are always dumb.”
Archie grimaces.
“Oh, yeah. Glasses with glitter and those lame hats.” He shakes his head in disapproval.
She agrees. “Bunch of amateurs getting drunk. It’s cringy.”
“Yeah.” Archie fiddles with what’s left of his papas bravas with his fork. Veronica takes a big gulp of wine. “But… just so you know, I don’t have any plans.”
“Is this your ex’s?” Archie asks, quite confused, after she makes him change into a blue button-up and a black sports jacket.
“No.” She laughs, unfastening the top buttons of the shirt. Wouldn’t that be great? “They’re Jason’s, Cheryl’s brother. He left them behind for some reason.” She takes a step back to examine Archie’s figure. “Dashing. I’ll change in five minutes, and we can try to call a Lyft.”
Veronica leaves him in the living room and runs to her room, quickly stepping into the outfit she picked beforehand. It’s a vintage, gold sequin mini skirt, in which she added a mesh lining for an extra detail, and a simple black top. She reapplies her makeup, cat-eyeliner and red lips, and puts some mousse in her hair to make it messier.
Archie’s jaw kind of drops when she comes back to the living room — she took twenty minutes, but the look on his face is worth it.
“Ronnie?” Archie asks when they’re outside, waiting for the Lyft that they managed to call. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… What was strike one?”
Veronica, who was texting Cheryl to let her know she’d be at the party soon, only knits her eyebrows together.
“In New York,” Archie clarifies. “Strike two was that I didn’t believe you when you said you were a millionaire. Strike three was that I was born under the wrong star sign.” He shakes his head, almost as if he couldn’t believe it even after all this time, and she laughs a little. “What was strike one?”
She presses her lips together. “Strike one was that I had to make the first move,” Veronica answers, just as the Lyft pulls up to the sidewalk.
“What?” Archie looks dumbfounded as he automatically opens the door for her. It seems like that’s a normal gesture for him, always the gentleman, even though he sounds a bit annoyed right now. “You’re saying I got strike one before we even met? You can’t get strike one before you step up to the plate.”
Veronica shrugs, stepping into the car.
There’s traffic when the Lyft turns onto West Sheridan Road. Archie and Veronica are sitting on opposite sides of the backseat. He hasn’t spoken ever since they got into the car, even though, every now and again, he huffs out an annoyed sigh.
“I introduced myself,” he says, after a while. Veronica glances at him, and he looks determined. “In New York. I introduced myself. Isn’t that a move?”
“No.”
The car finally starts moving again.
“Isn’t it a little sexist that I get a strike for not making a move?”
Veronica laughs at that. “Says the man in the conversation. I also called you today, you know.”
“That’s because I didn’t have your number or your full name.”
“Have you ever asked for it?” She bats her eyelashes at him.
Archie has no time to keep on whining because the Lyft stops in front of a place called Barcocina, where the party is happening. It’s full of people entering the place with their bright outfits and even brighter hats. They can hear the music from outside, and Archie and Veronica look at each other, nodding in approval. She grabs his hand, leading him through the entrance.
The inside looks even better. The décor is amazing, all blue and silver, and everyone seems to have a glass of champagne in their hands. Veronica scans through the crowd, soon finding Cheryl, Sheila, Betty, and Dilton near the bar.
“You made it!” Cheryl yells, rushing towards her when she approaches the group. “And… Nice choice of competition,” She eyes Archie, not making her approval subtle. He blushes again when Cheryl reaches out a hand. “Cheryl Blossom. You look great in my brother’s clothes.”
“Uh, thanks.” Archie shakes her hand, and Veronica's neck feels warm, proud of herself for a second. “Archie Andrews.”
“Archie,” Veronica touches his arm, right above the elbow, when her friends follow Cheryl’s lead and come say hello, “this is Sheila, Cheryl’s girlfriend. This is Betty Cooper, my other roommate, and—” Veronica stops, because Dilton is looking at Archie with a weird expression, almost as if he’s trying to figure something out. “Her boyfriend, Dilton.”
“I know you from somewhere.” Dilton scratches his chin.
“Uh,” Archie rubs the back of his neck. “Seven-Eleven next to Jackson Station?” he asks and then turns to Veronica, to explain. “I was a cashier there for like, two years.”
She ponders, as does Dilton and everyone around them, but then it hits her. Her mouth hangs open. “I can’t believe it. Your band! Archie’s in a band! The Kazoos!”
“Yes! That’s it!” Dilton pats Archie’s arm, and Veronica turns to Betty, beaming. Betty smiles too, even though she has little to no idea what they’re talking about. “I saw you guys playing at the French Market a couple weeks ago. I have a friend who’s gonna flip when I tell her I met you.”
“Oh, I—” Archie seems as happy as he is stunned, and Veronica feels giddy. Jokes aside, being recognized seems like a huge step in his path to become Bon Jovi, and she’s really proud of him for a moment. “Yeah, wow. Do you follow us on Spotify?”
Archie says he’s going to find them some champagne, but the truth is that Dilton whisks him away with questions about the band and requests for selfies. Veronica is left with Sheila, Cheryl, and Betty. All three of them turn to her as soon as the boys step away, looking like mean Powerpuff Girls, or something.
Cheryl is the one who says, “Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill.” Veronica plays with the ring on her middle finger, just to have something to do with her hands. “He’s an old friend. I met him a few years ago, and we just got back in touch. It’s nothing, really.”
“Nothing?” Sheila wrinkles her forehead. “One, he’s gorgeous, and two, I don’t think he got the memo that you are just friends.”
“He did get the mem—” Veronica stops talking. Over Betty’s shoulder, she sees Reggie. He’s dressed in all black — shirt, suit pants, and a vest, a vest she adjusted for him. He looks good as he always does, hair slicked back, but what hits Veronica is that he doesn’t look sad or regretful at all. In fact, he looks pretty happy as he talks to another woman, wearing a red dress.
The girls turn around to see what made Veronica stop. Cheryl scoffs, outraged, and Betty places her hand on Veronica’s arm. “Okay. Okay, it's not a big deal. We knew he would be here.”
Yes, they knew Reggie would be at the party, but Veronica didn’t think he’d be at the party with a date. A date with miles of tanned legs. A date with lustrous, strawberry blonde hair. She didn’t think he’d move on so fucking fast, find someone else to smile at less than a week after he dumped her.
(okay, she is here with someone else too, but it wasn’t— Archie doesn't count.)
“That son of a bitch,” Sheila blurts out.
“We need shots,” Cheryl decides, steering them to the bar. “Tequila!” she yells at the barman. Veronica feels catatonic for some reason, especially when the woman in red throws her arms around Reggie’s neck, and he leans down to kiss her.
Veronica’s heart sinks into her stomach.
Dancing is much more fun than moping over her asinine of an ex, Veronica decides as she swings her hands up in the air. And that’s what she’s here for. To have fun. Fun Veronica, like the old days, isn’t that what everyone wanted?
She dances and gulps champagne, vaguely aware of her friends around her. She knows Archie is there too, jumping to the loud music, and she’s so happy that he’s famous now. He deserves it; he’s such a nice guy.
Veronica wraps her arms around his neck, intending to tell him that, but she is quite tipsy. She ends up tripping on his feet, and Archie laughs, holding her by the waist. It ends up being quite prophetic, because the DJ changes the song to a slower one, and they’re already in position.
Archie sways easily with her in his arms. Veronica leans her head on his shoulder, and feels his chin resting on the side of her head. She closes her eyes for a moment, relishing in the proximity.
When she opens them, she ends up craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Reggie and his date, who are also wrapped up on the dancefloor. She feels stupid for doing so, stupid and drunk. She doesn’t want to admit it, but it really hurts to see Reggie dancing with someone else, like the past years meant nothing. Like they didn’t spend all those New Year’s Eves together, just like that.
Reggie does lift up his head to glare at her and Archie. Veronica can see him clenching his jaw, but soon tightening his grip around his date’s waist and looking away.
“Put your hands on my ass.” She hears Archie’s voice coming from up close. “That’ll really get him.”
Veronica leans back to look at him, not really sure if he’s kidding or not. There is a grin curling at his lips when their eyes meet — half-amused, half-sympathetic. It makes Veronica almost emotional, how understanding he’s been of this whole situation. She ends up letting out a giggle, hiding her face on his chest as she feels his torso shake when he chuckles too.
“Do you want me to put my hands on your ass?” he jokes. “I can punch him, too.”
She laughs then, looking at Archie again. He’s smiling wider now, and she bites her lip.
“You alright?” he asks, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. Veronica nods as she exhales.
“Yeah. I’m gonna go to the ladies’ room,” she says, already stepping back, feeling like she needs to breathe for a second. “I’ll be right back.”
Enough already, Veronica thinks as she stares at herself in the mirror, splashing cold water on the back of her neck. Her lipstick is gone to the numerous glasses of champagne, just a red shadow on her lips now. Enough. Outside, there’s a good, handsome, amazing guy who didn’t even hesitate to spend the day with her after years of absolutely no contact, and she’ll be damned if she’s going to let this opportunity pass. Again.
She should’ve called Archie four years ago, that’s what she should’ve done.
Outside the bathroom, the DJ announces that the countdown is about to start. Veronica dries her hands and heads back out to the party, searching for Archie’s red hair amongst the crowd, but she can’t see him anywhere.
The countdown starts. Veronica starts dodging couples pairing up, her heart beating faster. She sees Cheryl and Sheila laughing, champagne glasses in their hands, but no one else. Maybe he left, something tells her, as she searches frantically around her.
Five! Four!
She can’t find Archie, but she does find Reggie.
Three! Two!
He’s shouting numbers with his date, a big goofy smile on his face. Veronica feels like she’s reached a new low point when the clock strikes midnight and confetti falls around her. She watches Reggie lean in to kiss his date and—
There’s a flash of red and a pair of large, calloused hands cup her face, bringing her close. Archie whispers, “I found you,” before kissing her, deep and slow.
Veronica melts against his mouth, kissing him back with all her might as she wraps her arms around his neck. Archie kisses her so hard, he lifts her up off her feet.
It’s a quick trip from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs.
Archie softly kisses the curve of her neck, and Veronica can’t stop giggling. The driver is definitely staring at them through the rear-view mirror. “I can’t believe Cheryl made you give Jason’s jacket back,” she says in between laughter.
“She did.” He laughs too, and the air coming out of his mouth makes Veronica’s skin become covered with goosebumps. She keeps serious, trying to control herself before the driver kicks them out in the middle of the frozen street. Archie eventually presses a kiss to her shoulder and pulls away, but he holds her hand until they reach his house.
Veronica feels very drunk, or very happy, and stumbles next to Archie when he opens the door to his place. They’re laughing again, but she can’t really remember why— it doesn’t matter.
However, the sight of Archie’s dark, empty loft sobers her up (a little). There’s no furniture except for a mattress without the sheets on the floor, and a stack of boxes on one side. She blinks, puzzled, and holds on to the crook of his arm. “Archiekins,” she whispers cautiously, “I think you’ve been robbed.”
Archie chuckles. “No, I haven’t,” he says softly as he closes the door behind him. “I’m moving, remember?”
Veronica stops in her tracks. She searches for the information inside her brain. He did say he was moving to LA with his band, but— “But not now.”
“Yes, now.” Archie tries to flick the light switch, but nothing happens. “Power’s out. It’s official.”
Veronica walks further into the loft, holding her arms around herself as she looks around. The streetlights coming through the bare windows are bright enough to light up shapes and lines. “What do you mean? Now, now?”
Archie stops in front of her. He’s so tall. Veronica feels her mouth shaping into a pout when he reaches out to remove something from her hair — a plastic tiara she didn’t remember putting on in the first place. “I’m moving tomorrow. I have to catch a flight at nine, and the movers will pick up the rest of the stuff in the afternoon.”
“Oh.”
Archie smiles sadly at the tiara in his hand. Veronica thinks it’s pretty — it’s encrusted with pearls and cubic zirconia studs. She can’t find many coherent thoughts except fuck, he’s moving and how empty this knowledge makes her feel.
“Do you sew?” he asks, suddenly, taking her back to the present.
She blinks drunkenly. “What?”
“I don’t know. I saw the sewing machine at your house, and everything you wear has something different on it. Like this.” He points to the mesh lining on her skirt.
“You noticed that?”
Archie smiles coyly, placing the tiara on top of one of the boxes, and Veronica thinks she sees a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “I write songs. I have to notice stuff.”
Veronica takes one step closer to him. She is drunk, yes — perhaps she’s also sad because of Reggie and sensitive over the fact that Archie has learned things about her that she didn’t even bother to tell him — but she’s also very conscious of what she’s doing when she reaches out to take his face in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re moving away when I just found you again.”
Archie doesn’t respond. He simply leans in, kissing her, tentatively at first but then harder. Veronica feels his hands on her hips, bringing her closer. She holds him by his shoulders, her whole body electrified. This isn’t fair.
Archie walks her back carefully, pushing her against a wall or something. Veronica sighs at the feeling of his body pressed against her. She doesn’t want him to leave. He should stay. He should—
“Hold on.” Veronica pushes him away. She’s suddenly nauseated, and it probably has nothing to do with butterflies. Her mouth fills with salty saliva, and she can’t pay attention to Archie’s confused face when she darts to the nearest door, praying for it to be a bathroom. “Wait, just a sec—”
Veronica throws up into the toilet, the room spinning around her. She feels Archie holding her hair out of her face, laughing quietly.
“It’s okay, Ronnie. Let it out.”
Next thing Veronica knows, she’s waking up to the sound of a garbage truck backing up. Birds are chirping, and the sun is streaming through the windows.
She stirs, quite a headache forming behind her eyes and a horrible taste in her mouth. The memory comes back to her with a rush of embarrassment — she can’t believe she threw up in front of Archie and that he had to help her.
Fun Veronica is a disaster.
Veronica opens her eyes to the bright daylight and sits up slowly. She’s still wearing her clothes, except for her shoes, but there’s also a blanket on top of her. “Archie?” she calls.
No answer.
Veronica takes a deep breath. He had a flight to catch in the morning, and it’s probably past nine already. It feels strange and lonely, to wake up to his empty loft, a place she didn’t know existed but was always there.
She stretches and gets up slowly, wrapping the blanket around her. The boxes are still there, and so is the tiara he took off her head. Her purse is close to it as well. Veronica searches for her phone.
There’s a bunch of missed calls from her friends and a few texts. Between them, there’s one that makes her heart beat a little faster.
didn’t want to wake u. off to the airport. if u want to wait for the movers be my guest, lol.
ps: u snore.
Veronica chuckles.
fuck off, she writes back, but adds a heart emoji, for good measure.
tbc