Girls Your Age 》fp jones

15

After the third call, Lydia put her phone on silent, the only evidence of her phone ringing was the way it lit up her dark bedroom. She lay on her back with her eyes to the ceiling. Hiram's words still echoing in her head and his touch still prominently marked on her skin.

Her room lit up once more from, it was short this time. She picked up her phone seeing FP Jones' contact flash up on her home screen. He had finally given up on calling her and resorted to texting.

'Lydia, I know you're in. I can see the light from your bedroom window!'

She didn't reply.

'God help me, Prescott. I'll wake up this whole town!'

She stared at the message, the brightness stinging her eyes. Several minutes past before the revving of an engine roared outside her bedroom window. She sighed and climbed out the warmth of her bed and walked towards her window. FP Jones was stood on the pavement on the outskirts of her front lawn, leaning against his motorbike with his arms folded, impatiently waiting for her to make an appearance.

She pushed open her window and he smirked, which she could see even through the shadows the night carried. "What do you want, FP?" She sighed. He was risking alot coming to her house, threatening to wake the whole neighbourhood up.

"I hadn't finished with you." He sent her a wink and unfolded his arms tapping the leather seat of his bike. He was cocky and she hated it, yet why did that stupid smirk send her into emotional overdrive.

She groaned and left the window, she opened her bedroom door and poured out onto the landing, all she heard was her dad's heavy snoring. She tiptoed down the stairs, thanking god for carpet and floorboards that didn't creak. She opened the front door wide and motioned for him to enter the house, he raised his eyebrows, shocked at the invitation but gladly accepted.

He stepped past the threshold of the house and squeezed past her, making sure to push his bodies as close to hers as possible. She rolled her eyes, he'd already started teasing her. "I'm ready for my third fuck." He winked, chuckling to himself and looked around the hall, poking his head into the living room and nodding, impressed at something he'd seen.

Lydia breathed out heavily as he walked further down the hall to look into the kitchen. "I haven't got all night, Jones!" Lydia whispered as she started to asend the stairs. He smirked and followed her up to her bedroom, being as quiet as possible.

FP walked in first and Lydia closed the door behind them. He frowned to himself, his back to Lydia as he looked around the room. She had switched on the multiple lights she had decorated around the room. Around the window, a stream of gold lights, around the doorway, another set and a small lamp on her bedside table. It was enough light to glow up the room, allowing FP to see the pictures the girl had stuck to her walls. 

Seeing her room made him realise just how young this girl was, fresh out of the innocence of childhood, the pictures on the wall showed her smiling, multiple groups of friends, the world hadn't yet eaten her up and spat her out.

She sat on her bed waiting for FP to finish looking around her room.

"Is that that Lodge girl?" FP walked towards one of the pictures and picked it off the wall. It was fairly new, and FP recognised the background belonging to Riverdale High's yard. "Didn't know you became friends again." He tried to not let his voice show any emotion, tried to keep it as straight as possible, but it didn't work. Lydia tilted her head, swearing she heard jealousy laced deep within his words.

"We're not." She stood up off her bed and took the photograph from his fingers and stuck it back on the wall. "We're dating actually."

"What!?" FP wanted to shout but knew he had to keep his voice down to a low growl. "Since when?"

"Since before we hooked up." She shrugged.

He stepped back from the girl. How was she fine with this? Playing so easily with people's emotions.

She placed her hands on her hips. "Well are you going to fuck me then or what?" He stayed silent, not moving a muscle.

She raised her eyebrows and sauntered towards him closing the gap FP had but between them. She dragged her hands up his chest taking the hem of his t-shirt with her. He stood still, almost stone like, not effected by Lydia's actions. She lifted his t-shirt over his head and threw it away from them. She left sloppy kisses down his chest as she sunk to her knees. Unfastening his jeans she looked up at the man, his eyes were fixed to the wall, more specifically the picture on the wall of her and Veronica. "Stop!" He whispered, he felt like he had to throw up the word, because he didn't want the girl to stop. "I can't do this." He chuckled to himself stepping back from the girl who was still on her knees. "You can't do this."

Lydia stood up, her hands on her hips. FP laughed louder, forgetting about her sleeping parents down the hall. "You're a bitch!" Lydia's face fell like melting wax. She'd been called a bitch before, in fact she'd been called much worse but coming from FP's lips, it meant something. "My wife cheated on me, Lydia, multiple times. And I know you're not as committed to Veronica as much as I was to my wife, but it's still cheating. And you don't care. I can see it in your eyes, she means absolutely nothing to you-"

"So it's alright then?" Lydia stepped towards FP pulling at the hem of the tshirt that he had put back on.

"No! No it's not alright! I can't believe I'm the voice of reason, I can't believe, for once, I am the one doing the right thing. You don't need to bother giving me your pity fuck, Lydia, because I don't want it!" His words were sour, poison in her ear.

He opened her bedroom door, standing in her doorway he turned his head to look back at her. "She was right you know? You need to get yourself together and commit to something, because believe me when I say it's a very lonely path you're travelling on right now." He shut the door behind him as he left, and Lydia listened to the roar of his bike as he drove away. She sat glued to the spot on her bed, still transfixed to the place he stood by the door.

It was once again a quiet night on the Northside of Riverdale. No longer tainted by the leather and cigerette aroma that the southside leader carried with him, like it was a bottled fragrance he sprayed on himself every morning.

Lydia picked up her phone for the last time that night, scrolled through her contacts until she found the one she never thought she'd use again and typed out one single word: okay.