s i x t e e n

8.2K 144 1
                                    

Jughead had come to my small apartment the next day. He was leaning on the counter watching me attempt to stir a pot of spaghetti, the hot water bubbling out and splashing my face. I hissed in pain and dropped the spoon, reaching up to my burning cheek. He chuckled and moved toward me, spinning me around to inspect the damage. His thumb ghosted over the burn, "Looks like you're in hot water."

The joke struck a cord and my stomach wound itself into knots. He felt my pulse race, his body pressed against mine, and concern danced across his features, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, plastering on a fake smile, "Nothing. Pass me a bowl?"

He smiled in return and pulled away, handing me a small white bowl, "How was Veronica?"

I stiffened infinitesimally, "overbearing, as per usual."

He laughed taking the bowl of spaghetti from me and moving toward the table. I sat across from him, twirling my fork in the noodles and watching his chocolate brown eyes. The shrill sound of my phone ringing snapped me from my stupor and, with a sigh, I pushed myself out of my chair and grabbed the phone.

In big white letters, the screen read, "INCOMING CALL — VERONICA"

I quickly declined and moved back toward the table, "Who was it?" Jughead asked, a mouth full of half-cooked spaghetti.

"No one." I brushed off his question, shaking my head, "How is it?"

Jughead shrugged, "It'd be better with sauce." 

lola | JUGHEAD JONES ✔Where stories live. Discover now