Betty took a deep breath, closed her eyes and, before she could talk herself out of it, pressed the intercom buzzer.
A few seconds of silence passed, but just when she'd been ready to turn around and leave, the intercom beeped and she heard the fuzzy static.
"Hello?" A deep monotone voice came through the muffled speaker.
"Hi!" She chirped, overly bright. "It's Betty Cooper, your new roommate?" Her hands curled into familiar fists, before she caught herself and flattened them against her jeans. Old habits.
"Oh yeah," the voice, Jughead, answered. "Come on in."
The gate buzzed, and she hesitantly opened it, stepping inside the massive brown brick building and making her way to the elevator. She pressed the button for the third floor, where Jughead lived. Where she would live.
She'd been waiting her whole life to get out of sleepy Riverdale and away from her controlling mother. Alice Cooper, the reason Betty had small, featherlight half-crescent scars peppering her palm. For eighteen years Betty had been the subject of constant critique. She had never been smart enough, thin enough, pretty enough.
She shook her head, trying to rid herself of her thoughts and the dread she felt deep in her gut when she thought of her life in Riverdale. Instead, she focused on her anticipation to start her new life.
Jughead had seemed nice enough, if a little distant. She'd come across his ad on Craigslist for a roommate, and she was almost immediately sold. Though, she'd be sold on pretty much anything; as long as she had a place to sleep, she'd be happy. Although the kink in her lower back from sleeping on Veronica and her roommate Cheryl's couch was becoming a problem.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Betty tightened her ponytail, double-checked the apartment number on her phone, picked up her lone suitcase and made her way to her new home.
~
Three quick knocks sounded on the door to his apartment and Jughead groaned, closing his laptop.
He'd almost forgotten that his new roommate was moving in that day. If he was being honest (and he always was, to a fault) he didn't even want a roommate. The only reason he advertised the position was that with the money he sent Jellybean every month, his savings were dwindling. And god knew apartments in Manhattan weren't cheap.
He pushed himself up from his cocoon on the couch and made his way to the door. He sent a quick prayer to the multiverse that she'd be discreet. Hell, he'd be more than happy if she was mute.
He opened the door quickly and found himself looking at what he could only describe as a Hitchcock blonde. Her hair was tied up into a tight ponytail, her eyes wide and hopeful. For a second he was struck by how effortlessly beautiful she was, but he discarded that train of thought quickly.
(Girls like her didn't belong with boys like him in reality.)
That's when he noticed her pastel cardigan. "Oh god," he sighed to himself. Maybe he was prejudiced but people who wore pastel colours had a tendency to get on his bad side.
She frowned slightly but when he blinked, she had a large smile plastered onto her face and her hand was held out to him.
"Jughead Jones, right? I'm-"
"Betty Cooper, I know." He considered shaking her hand to be polite but quickly stepped aside, opening the door wider for her to step in.
He saw her smile falter as she walked inside the apartment and spotted the pile of dishes next to the sink.
Jughead rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"I swear I usually do dishes before having guests over." He avoided her mocking gaze and instead gestured to the doorway of her bedroom.
"So that's your room. The bathroom is right across your door and my room is at the end of the hall. Rent is paid at the end of each month and I'll let you know before inviting someone over. The laundry room is on the ground floor and as long as you don't play loud music too early in the morning, we should get along just fine." He eyed her lone suitcase. "Is that all you brought?"
She smiled shyly and nodded.
Jughead shrugged. It wasn't as if it was any of his business. He glanced up and swore under his breath when he saw the time. He was officially late for work. It wasn't as if the New York Public Library was going anywhere but he couldn't exactly afford to clock in late and lose money.
He grabbed his phone from its place on his coffee table and shoved his feet into his boots next to the door.
"I need to go to work but make yourself at home. Your key is in your room and there should be some leftover Chinese in the fridge. I'll be back in a few hours," he shrugged his jacket on and called a quick nice to meet you over his shoulder before the door shut and Betty was alone in her new home.
