Girls Your Age 》fp jones

9

"We can't do this!" His voice held no emotion. Lydia let out a sarcastic laugh, not knowing what else to say or do.

"I think you should leave." FP said standing up and walking towards the door to open it. Lydia stood there, her face blank. It was in that moment she realised how much the walls she'd built around her emotions had come crumbling down when she was around him. And now she was building them back up.

She smoothed down her dress and barged past him out the door. She only looked back once she heard the door slam, he didn't even watch her leave.

Fp slammed the door and leaned his back against it. His home felt oddly cold without Lydia's raising body heat against him. He looked down to see the torn lace on the carpet that once acted as underwear. His eyes stared down at it like his look would set it alight. But it stayed as torn and as solid as ever.

He kicked it away from him so it wasn't by the entrance and sat back down on the sofa. The fabric was old now, not having replaced it since he was a kid, the sofa was one of the only things his father had saved up money for. But FP couldn't do that to get a new one. He picked at some of the duct tape that held a rip closed, trying to distract himself.

A loud knock sounded from the front door and FP leaped up. Maybe it was Lydia returning to give him back what he deserved, he was prepared for a slap in the face when he opened the door but he could hardly hide his disappointment when he saw Jughead standing on the other side.

"Jug? Why didn't you just come in?" Fp asked at why is own son had knocked on the door of his own house.

"I don't know, it doesn't feel natural to just walk in yet." The boy looked down at his worn out boots. It has been a while since Jughead had lived with his father in the trailer so it didn't feel like home again just yet.

"I thought you were staying at Betty's?"

"We had a fight." Jughead said as he walked past his dad. Luckily he didn't see the underwear that certainly did not belong to either of the Jones boy's on the floor by the TV.

"Oh, do you want to talk about it?" FP asked, this was new territory for the parent as this had been Jughead's first relationship.

"Not really, I'm just going to go to bed." Jughead muttered as he shuffled to his room.

"Oh, okay." Fp muttered so quietly, it was almost a whisper. And he was alone once again.

But so was Lydia, as she wandered the southside with nothing but her dress as the one layer of thin clothing she had on. Her body still flaming with a burning need to be touched. She ran her hand through the messy knots FP had created in her hair as she saw the shining neon lights of Pop's ahead of her.

Now having reached the north side of Riverdale, Lydia kicked off her patent leather heels and carried them, the pavements now smooth and not littered with glass and stray stones like the unkept southside was.

She hated herself for the thoughts that were running through her mind. They were less about FP and his warm, bear like, calloused hands roaming her body. And more about getting anyone else to fulfill her desire. She groaned to herself as her body carried her in the direction that she was always going to end up at. The Pembrooke.

The elegant gold and marble in the lobby made her feel cold. She tiptoed past the sleeping night guard, as her bare feet effortlessly made no sound against the solid floor.

The only loud noise was the sound of the elevator doors that pinged open, but looking back at the guard, he appeared undisturbed, snoring softly as his head drooped heavy, his chin hitting his chest with every deep breath.

Lydia clicked Veronica's floor number, shushing the thoughts that told her to turn back and just go home.

The doors opened to show Veronica in a black, silk, night slip. Lydia stared directly into the dark chocolate eyes.

"What are you doing here, Lydia?" Veronica was pissed. It had now reached the early hours of the morning, the sky softening in colour from the dark blue that midnight held, and Lydia hadn't slept a wink. And Veronica could tell.

For the first time in the short time, in the grand scheme of things, that Veronica had known Lydia, she had never seen her like this. So weak. So tired. So unlike Lydia. Or maybe this was Lydia, the real Lydia, weak, tired and helplessly standing at Veronica's door.

The words that Lydia uttered into the quiet apartment building shocked both girls, thinking that Lydia would never say them in her entire life. But in this moment she needed to. She didn't know and didn't understand what FP had done to her but this, how Lydia appeared now, so helpless in front of the one girl that saw her as being so strong. It was his fault. And it was his fault that Lydia whispered, "I want you V. I want you and only you."