#like 'can this hold up to kids playing soccer? to dog activities? if I roll my trashcan over it to get it to the curb is it gonna die on me

[anipgarden]

Ani Reviews: A Step-by-Step Guide to a Florida Native Yard

I promised you guys a review and here it is. I've never really done a book review before but I'm doing my best to make this Coherent and Helpful.

[Photo ID: a book, titled A Step-by-Step Guide to a Florida Native Yard by Ginny Stibolt and Marjorie Shropshire.]

Out of all the books I checked out from the library this round, I started with this one because it was the shortest out of all of them--if we don't count the appendix and index, its 101 pages long. You can read where I sort of live blogged a portion of this read here.

I think its a pretty good read! It's definitely a lot more relevant if you are the home owner and most directly in charge of landscaping decisions and such. It gives a bit of advice on how to handle making similar changes in an HOA neighborhood, and provides pointers and resources to other books that can also be helpful in the journey to make your landscape a wildlife-friendly habitat. It focuses on Florida specifically, as denoted by the title, and will frequently remind the reader that gardening in Florida is vastly different from gardening anywhere else. So whether you've been a Florida resident all your life, or are planning on making a move on down here, this book can be a helpful resource if you want to transform some or even all of your yard into a habitat.

After the introduction, the book is separated into seven major sections referred to as Steps. There's Assess Your Property, Plan for Drainage and Stormwater Sequestration, Install Trees, Plant Shrubs, Working with Herbaceous Plants, Build a Wild or Natural Area, and Create Spaces for Human Use. If you're more interested in one part than the others, you can definitely skip around to find what you're looking for. I will say, the Drainage and Stormwater section made my head spin a bit.

I will say this: I don't know if the writers ever fully decided if they wanted this book to be targeted towards those who are already gung-ho about native plants and itching to transform their landscape, or to people who are just beginning to dip their toe into the idea. Overall though, it was a nice and informative read, and the illustrations inside are lovely.

[et-lesailes]

family of five

pairing: dad!chris x wife!reader

word count: 2085

summary: just a typical evening in the evans household starring you, chris, and your three children.

themes: fluff, marriage, children, mentions of sex

taglist: @viarogers​ , @evanstush​ , @chibi-crazy​ ,  @pining-and-tired​ , @songforhema​, @sebabestianstan101​ , @tanyam93​ , @bval-1​, @wonderwinchester​ , @little-miss-exo​, @poerebel​ , @gogomez-509​ , @patzammit​, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31​, @jbug491writinghelp​, @quaideraid​, @melannie77​, @gigistorm, @lille-kattunge​, @teller258316​, @rohaintahquil​, @deidrashouseofpain, @firstangeldragonranch, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests​, @xoxabs88xox​, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @captainscanadian​, @rumoured-whispers​, @lemonster120​, @puddlejoy​

note: yeah idk just had muse for this lmao might make a part 2 with smut?? lmk what u guys want :))

“Hey, hey! Dad that was totally unfair, I wasn’t ready yet!” 

“Damn, maybe you’re just not ready to be on the football team then!”

You giggled fondly as you watched your husband and son playfully tantalize each other, leaning over the deck watching them practice throws and tackles. While it was normally the patriarch who manned the grill, you were more than happy to be the one currently making the burgers and hot dogs for the family- summer was coming to an end, and the five of you were making the most of each day before everything got hectic again. Sixteen-year-old Rayne with her acting classes and dance team, fifteen-year-old Lowell with his football tryouts and, well, constantly being out with his friends and his “girlfriend” of the week, and ten-year-old Mickey with her piano practices and soccer games. They were certainly an active and well rounded bunch, and you couldn’t be more proud. You and Chris had really refrained from putting too much pressure on them; the two of you had just gotten lucky with having children who had so many interests and an eagerness to get involved. 

“Mom! Mom, oh my God, look!” You looked up to an excited Rayne practically bouncing out to the deck, holding up her phone screen. “Josh just asked if I wanted to get ice cream with him tonight! Can I go??” You looked at the text with a wide smile before looking to her. “Sure sweetie, after dinner, okay? Is he picking you-”

“Excuse me, what’s going on here?” You hadn’t even heard Chris come up the stairs of the deck, but now he was already leaned over behind you, one hand on your shoulder as he inspected the message. He then looked to his eldest daughter with a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Is this the Josh who’s a senior? An older boy, Rayne? Give me that phone, let me text him.” The teenager laughed, immediately pulling it back. “Dad! You literally met him at the game last year, you said you liked him remember??” She sighed dreamily, clinging onto your arm playfully. “And he can drive. He has his own car. And he’s so mature, he’s so much better than the boys in my grade!” 

“You still have a crush on Josh?” Lowell came bounding up the stairs, blonde hair slightly sweaty from his and Chris’ little practice. “Haven’t you liked him since, like, kindergarten?” Rayne rolled her eyes, letting go of your arm and looking at her screen starting to text him back. “No, that’s ridiculous. But… he did have a really cute haircut in first grade…” You couldn’t help but laugh, turning back to the grill and flipping the patties. “Well, looks like he’s interested in you too, girlie. What are you going to wear?” The girl immediately looked up with wide blue eyes. “Shit! I gotta figure that out! I’ll be right back!” She was already dashing inside and up the stairs when you looked up, Chris calling playfully after her, “No short shorts or spaghetti straps, got it?! And tell Mickey to get off that damn iPad and come down for dinner!” 

Lowell arched an eyebrow in amusement, leaning against the railing as he crossed his arms. “Man. Rayne’s got a date tonight and I don’t? Maybe I should hit Haley up…” Chris looked to his only son, scoffing lightly though grinning. “And what happened to Chloe? I thought she was the new love of your life.” The blond teenager sighed dramatically and you couldn’t help but quietly giggle as you began moving the burgers to a platter. “Chloe’s… fine, I guess, but we don’t have a lot in common. I think I just liked her because she has big boobs. Seriously, they practically look fake, but they’re not.” You blinked and wrinkled your nose playfully, reaching out to give him a light punch. “Lowell! You can’t decide you like someone-- let alone love them-- because of their boobs!” He playfully whined, rubbing his arm. “Well I know that now, I learned my lesson! Isn’t that what I just said?” Chris laughed, taking the platter and setting it on the outdoor table. “Well, we’re proud of you for learning these important life lessons, kiddo, but I wish you had the same motivation to do so in class….” 

“Don’t get your hopes up, Daddy,” a smaller but cheeky voice sounded from the open sliding doors, your youngest daughter standing there with a playful grin. “Lowie should just stick to sports.” The older boy blinked and made a face, coming over to ruffle his sister’s hair- he had certainly inherited Chris’ height, considering that at fifteen he was already almost six feet tall and towering over little Mickey-- and even you. “Excuse you, nerd, just wait until high school. It’s harder, okay?” Chris chuckled and came over, playfully scooping Mickey up and over her shoulder as she squealed and giggled. “Don’t be such a smart ass with your brother, princess. And you,” he turned to Lowell, reaching out to ruffle his hair just as roughly, “Mick’s not a nerd. She just happened to inherit her mama’s wonderful brain.” 

“So…. Mom’s a nerd, too?” Lowell questioned playfully, giving you his signature devious grin. “Excuse me?” You put a hand on your hip as if ready to scold him, but you were obviously joking around-- it was quite a daily occurrence for your family to roast each other like this. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He ran over to hug you as if scared you were upset with him, then suddenly picked you up off your feet making you scream in surprise before laughing. “Alright, alright, put me down!” He laughed too, setting you back down on your feet. “Love ya, Mom!” He gave you his charming smirk identical to his father’s and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Go set the table.” 

“And get me a beer from the fridge!” Chris called out after him, still holding Mickey over his shoulder as she playfully squirmed around. 

______________

“God I love when you wear that shirt, baby.” Chris came up behind you at the dresser in your bedroom, wrapping his arms around you as he gave your cheek a kiss. You smiled as you looked down at your Patriots tank top before turning your head to quickly catch his lips in a light peck. “Well, it makes my boobs look good, so, you know.” You answered playfully, and he smirked as he moved his large hands up your waist to nonchalantly squeeze your breasts. “Your boobs always look good. Especially since you had the kids, shit.” You giggled, turning around to face him and rubbing his chest lightly. “Let’s go say goodnight to the kids and then you’re more than welcome to worship my boobs some more,” you teased, and he laughed, leaning down to kiss you. “Mm alright, seems like a fair deal to me.” 

Rayne’s room was first. She was already laying in bed, curled up under the sheets and probably texting Josh, no doubt. She had already come to your room to tell you and Chris everything about the date; it meant a lot to you that your children could be so open about their personal lives, and you knew Chris was pleased about this too. While he joked around about being overprotective and not wanting Rayne to date, he was not strict or controlling- he understood that that would not get his children to communicate or be honest with him. And so instead, he offered them healthy advice about dating, knowing that while they would eventually make mistakes they would learn from, he could do his best to make sure they still stayed as safe as they could while exploring other relationships. 

“Alright, Ray Ray, time to say goodnight to Josh.” Chris playfully commanded as he walked in, leaning down by her bedside to give her a kiss on the head. She wrinkled her nose but shook her head cutely as she turned to look at him. “I can’t right now, Daddy, he’s telling me a really funny story!” You smiled and came over to give her a kiss as well. “Don't be up too late, sweetie. We love you.” She sat up slightly to give both of you hugs. “I love you too!” 

The two of you stepped out, heading for the game room next- you had already tucked Mickey in about an hour or two ago, the youngest always sleeping earlier partly because of her designated bedtime and partly because she ended up being sleepy so early anyways. You opened the door slightly and stood in the doorway with a light smile; Lowell had a couple of his friends sleeping over, and the three of them were currently sitting in front of the TV aggressively using the controllers. “Hey buddy. Just wanted to say goodnight! Do you boys need anything?” you asked, and one of them immediately paused the game, looking up at you almost dazed. “No, no we’re good!” Chris watched in amusement, simply wrapping his arms around you lazily from behind. “Alright, well there’s extra blankets in the laundry room. Don’t play games all night, yeah?” His friends were still staring at you, wearing rather goofy smiles. “We won’t, Mrs. E! Promise!” Chris raised an eyebrow, holding back his laughter. “Alright. Night, kiddos.” Lowell smiled up at both of you. “Night Mom, night Dad. Love you guys!” You blew him a kiss before stepping back, closing the door. “Man, your mom’s so hot,” you and Chris could faintly hear from behind the door, and you had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing. “Ew, Dylan, shut up!” Lowell scoffed, but another voice sounded after, “Alright, if not her, think I have a chance with Rayne? She’s so pretty, she looks just like your mom…”

“Jesus,” Chris mumbled as he kept his arms around you, though his smile indicated that he was just as amused. “Hell no, Rayne already has a thing with Josh Miller. Now can we stop obsessing over my mom and sister? Unless you want to talk about Mickey next,” Lowell spoke sarcastically, and they all finally returned to playing. You giggled as you let Chris pull you into your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“They’ve got it bad for you, baby doll. How’s it feel being a MILF? Not that we didn’t know you were one already.” He teased, pulling you onto his lap as he sat down. You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, arching a brow. “Apparently both of us still got it, because Rayne’s friends obsess just as much over you.” 

“Mm? You jealous, pretty girl?”

“Maybe I should be, considering you clearly like younger women,” you spoke as you gestured to yourself playfully. He laughed loudly, leaning in and kissing you lovingly. “Don’t worry, baby doll, I’ll at least wait until they’re eighteen,” he joked, running his fingers through your hair. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but giggle; you had always shared the same sense of humor, and so he never failed to make you laugh (until he brought out the incredibly lame dad jokes). He let out a sigh afterward, pulling you down with him to lie down together, arms wrapped around you. “Damn, it’s been a long day.” He turned to face you more properly, smirking slightly. “Honey, I gotta say I’m kind of looking forward to them going back to school.” You blinked and laughed, poking his nose as you inquired, “Why?” Though you already had a pretty good idea.

“Mm so Daddy can fuck his pretty girl all day long without having to worry about any meddlesome ears listening in.” He growled close to your ear before giving your cheek a playfully rough and sloppy kiss. You hummed as you barely shivered, always turned on by his more dominant and authoritative side, running your fingers over his chest. “Maybe I can help Daddy out a little right now,” you purred, slowly moving your hand down to rub his crotch, barely smirking upon feeling his bulge through the fabric. He let out a little groan, bucking his hips. “Fuck… that’s my girl….”

It was safe to say the two of you were up late, perhaps even later than your children-- you could only imagine what the first day of school would be like. You doubted he would even let you make it to work on time, if at all.

[queermikehanlon]

Sweet Caroline (The Losers Club)

Summary: The losers spending time with each other in a diner.

Words: 2,703

ao3

A/N: I got this from @grownups-are-the-real-monsters post about the losers in a diner listening to the juke box (x). Also, there aren’t any prevalent ships in this fic, a few are implied, but nothing outright. (It’s weird to post writing because I haven’t posted any writing in so long.)  

It was a small diner. It was a town over from Derry in a different small Maine town. It was one that the losers loved, because they weren’t losers there. They were the group of teenagers who went to the public places and were a little louder than the workers would like but not too bad because they tipped (unlike most teenagers) and were nice to the people they encountered.

The diner was a small one called ‘Track’s End’ because it was near the end of the train tracks and mostly catered seasonal workers who worked on the train line and the occasional families that lived nearby in the apartment complexes; and not to forget the group of seven teenagers who come in about every two weeks.

The losers considered it their loser time to hang out and be losers together. Sure, they all see each other often, but sometimes the losers didn’t see each other often enough. Bill and Stan had one class together, but Bill is starting his soccer season soon. He, over the summer after their freshman year, began working hard, wanting to join. the losers helped him on the sort of cool and grey days, working with him to help his foot work and with his saves (Bill had wanted to become a goalie) and with all of their hard work Bill made it on to the team, but now his days were filled with cleats and late dinners.

Stan spent his after school days with the Derry’s raptor club, volunteering at the local bird sanctuary. Sometimes when Ben or Mike wanted to hang out with Stan they joined him and he introduced them all to the different hawks and owls (and the few snakes that they held, which Mike loved and Ben tried to stay far away from).

Beverly spent time with Mike the most, surprising everyone at least a little bit. Beverly liked hanging out on his family’s farm in the middle of the fields. Mike learned how to draw from Beverly when she started drawing random buildings and trees on his property for art projects. Mike taught her about the animals and the food they grew and Beverly learned why Mike is vegan.

Ben and Bev also hang out, Bev going to Ben’s house to help him with erector set, building things more and more daring to see if it would even work. Bev sometimes makes things just to see if it holds for a while. Ben would paint Bev’s nails and when Bev wasn’t feeling good because of the bruises on her arms and stomach Ben handed over one of his many hoodie that swallowed her whole.

Eddie and Richie had almost every class together- so much so that their names were said as one word: EddieandRichie. Eddie and Richie spent most of their time together- along with the other losers, but mostly together. They didn’t do many after school things- Richie sometimes stayed with Stan for the chess club and Eddie stayed behind sometimes for tutoring (he helped some students with their science while they helped with his English).

Every two weeks on Sunday the seven got together and climbed into Eddie’s 1972 Vista Cruiser (even though they barely had enough seats to hold all of them) and drove off somewhere to be the losers club, at least for a little bit). This Sunday they went to the roller rink in the same town as the Track’s End diner. They all rented skates and rolled around, holding hands and moving around the rink. there weren’t many people there considering it was a small town on a Sunday night, so the losers had the rink and the arcade games to themselves.

It wore everyone out, Eddie made sure he had his inhaler on him and Richie made sure he had his back up inhaler. Beverly and Stan tried their best but looked like baby deer as they skated with wobbly legs and their arms stuck outwards to brace themselves as they fell. Bill, of course, was a natural even though he had only skated a handful of times in his life. Mike, who had never put on a pair of skates ever, held hands with Bill for almost the entire time he was out on the rink because Holy shit, this is so slick!

Richie and Eddie skated and played games back to back when Eddie’s asthma was acting up or when Richie’s ass hurt when he fell down one to many times from going too fast. (If you don’t slow the fuck down, then I’ll make your ass hurt in a different way, Richie Tozier! – Promise?) Richie also took his time to help Ben around the rink because Ben stuck to the wall and tried to walk with his skates rather than glide like you were meant to.

The losers lived for their Sunday night hang outs. They went to crappy golf courses and hung out at the Derry Mall. They hung out and made dams in the B8arrens like they used to when they were in elementary school. It made them feel better, almost younger, except they didn’t feel like they were kids, they felt like they were themselves, if they were ever themselves after the summer when they were thirteen, more innocent maybe? It was only like this sometimes between them. Stan felt phantom scars on his neck and face and sometimes when Eddie took a look at Bill or Richie his right arm would ache a little bit like it did when it was about to rain.

All their childhood shenanigans and all their childhood mistakes led them to themselves. these seven were meant for each other in no other way possible. In their amazing and unparalleled time together, they landed themselves in Track’s End.

The diner itself was small with seven booths and maybe ten seats at the bar. The only people besides the losers who were in the diner were a younger woman and a child- a girl about the age of five, and two older, middle aged men sitting at the bar. The losers piled into the biggest booth the diner had with Bill squishing into one side, though no one complained. Elbows bumped together and accidental (and purposeful) games of footsie were started, but they were left unnoticed as the conversation was booming with laughter and good jabs at each other.

They ordered breakfast for dinner in big heaping piles, knowing that most of the plates would be shared with each other (Stan, Eddie, and Mike didn’t share much- Stan and Eddie because of all the hands on their plates and their food and Mike because most breakfast food sold in a small town diner isn’t vegan so he couldn’t share much of the loser’s food).

Bev and Richie were actively arguing over music that they would play in the juke box. Ben, Mike, Stan, and Eddie were talking about the two page book report that was due on Monday about Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. Bill was sitting on the end, listening to both and pitching in on either conversation.

“But how can you even compare Come On Eileen to Sweet Child O’ Mine?”

“Bradbury wasn’t f-fucking F. S-scott Fitzgerald. N-not every-ything is meant to suh-symbolize God.”

“How can you hate Come On Eileen?!”

“Come on, at least the metal dog was supposed to be some sort of God, right?”

“No, the dog was supposed to represent the society that they lived in with all of the judgement and stuff, right?”

“I don’t hate Come on Eileen!”

“I don’t know why she didn’t just give us Lord Of The Flies I can bullshit a paper on that book, but I have no idea where to start with this.”

“You gotta another quarter then?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t want to read books at all, give me the grammar shit and let me do that for the rest of the semester.”

“Let’s play both our songs, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Just as Bev and Richie were going to push Bill and Mike off the edge of their seats to go to the jukebox across the diner, the woman, the mother, had taken her own quarter and played a song. It filled the diner completely, the music. The thump of the beats and brass music. Richie, who listens to the radio more than any average person should, groaned as the losers quieted their bickering to listen to the music.

“Are you kidding me?” Richie spoke, being careful enough so that the mother across the bar didn’t hear him as she moved to the beat with her daughter. “Neil fuckin Diamond?”

The losers didn’t respond, just listening to the music as they waited for their food. However, it was Ben who started it.

For every thump within the song, Ben’s finger tapped on the table. it was barely noticeable, because Ben didn’t have long fingernails like Bev did. they were tiny taps. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Was in the spring, and then a spring became a summer,”

Mike was next to succumb. he didn’t know the words to lots of songs played on the radio, but he could remember the tunes to most. He didn’t want to admit that he knew the song because Richie might make fun of him for it. It was a slight hum; a hum you couldn’t control. It slipped out of him and even Ben, who was sitting the furthest away from him, couldn’t hear it. It was low and soft.

“Who’d have believed you come along?”

Stan, uncomfortable and awkward with music to begin with, began to nod his head along with Ben’s finger taps. Stan couldn’t hold a tune and if the beat relied on him he always seemed to mess it up, but Ben was right next to Stan tapping his fingers and Stan watched Ben’s fingers and bobbed his head along. Stan could hear the faintness of the hums, but couldn’t tell if it was coming from Mike or from Bill, but he grinned under biting his lips nonetheless.

“Haannddss,”

Bev was mouthing the words, knowing it from the music her mother played while they were cleaning the house when he father was gone over the summer. It reminded her of good times with her mother, and days at the quarry with the boys when Richie brought his pocket radio to practice his DJ voices. The Neil Diamond song reminded Bev of hot summer days and dancing around, so sure, Bev sang along to the words, even if Richie would give her more shit for her music taste.

“Touching haannddss,”

Bill was swaying in his seat, hitting Bev in the side every other beat. It started with his head, like Stan, but instead Bill continued it as the song was building, making it so his entire top half was swaying left to right, into Bev and looking off in the distance.

“Reaching out,”

Eddie was swaying too, like Bill, but Eddie was sat next to Richie and didn’t want Richie to know that he was enjoying himself. He swayed a few times, but resituated himself so he was sitting on one of his legs in the booth. When he caught himself swaying again, he tried to make it look like he was staring at something out the window as the day was becoming night. His fake fidgets didn’t fool anyone however, they all knew he was swaying along with the song like most other losers.

“Touching you,”

Richie was about to burst. Sure, he was quick to make fun and pick at the song, but when all he wanted to do was make funny voices and sing along at everyone in the booth with him. As much as he loved making fun, he couldn’t expose himself as a hypocrite, especially in the sense of his own musical taste, of which he was fighting with Bev not two minutes ago. Truly, Richie was trying his hardest, biting his lips to keep himself from singing.

As the song came to its chorus all the teenagers looked at each other and their own ways of following along to the song. They were taking all their willpower to hold themselves together, but they couldn’t hold themselves together, laughing they sung.

“SWEET CAROLINE!”

Richie leaned into Eddie’s ear and screeched, “BA BA BUM!”

“Good times never felt so good! So good!”

The losers sang so loud, into each other’s faces, passionately holding one another, dancing in their seats. Their earlier exhaustion from skating and reservation from singing the first verse seemed nonexistent as they sang to each other. They became loud and rambunctious, hopping in their seats and trying to be as exaggerated and as animated as they could be, giggling and cackling to each other.

Bev’s curly red hair bounced as she bobbed her head. Bill was using his body weight and swaying it into Bev’s side, which then acted as a pendulum into Stan, who then knocked into Ben who replaced using his fingers with his entire hand, becoming the drummer of the group as he beat on the table and the window sill.

Stan was headbanging the mop of curls on the top of his head, enjoying himself thoroughly. Mike joined in the singing, and danced in his seat, trying to wiggle his bottom half. Richie and Eddie were nose to nose, keeping eye contact as they sang; they played with an unspoken rule that if they blinked or broke eye contact they lost.

During their song, the waitress came by with the large tray holding all their food and they calmed down only for a tiny bit. The losers continued to sing to themselves quietly as hands and arms were across the table moving and passing around plates of food and refills on their drinks until they had all of their food and began to dig in. Stan still bobbed his head, Eddie and Bill still swayed, and Mike still hummed, but their mouths were too full with their food to continue singing.

As the song faded out, all the movement stopped. They didn’t do anything and ate as nothing had happened. You could hear the scarping of metal on ceramic plates and the clinking of ice against the glass of their cups. Mike glanced up from his food to side eye everyone else and he caught Bev’s eyes doing the same thing. He swallowed his hash browns took a drink. Bev leaned over Stan and took a piece of Ben’s sausage with her fork. Bill hummed a different song, one that he’s had stuck in his head for most of the week.

The diner was quiet now. except-

“Come On Eileen is the greatest song to exist and you can’t say a fucking thing that would change my mind.”

“You can’t believe that’s true,”

The other boys listened to Bev and Richie’s conversation (or rather argument) and joined in.

“Okay, I love Come On Eileen but it’s not the greatest song I’ve ever heard,”

“B-blasphemy.”

“You can’t believe that!”

“Finally! A good man on my side! Come over here Big Bill, give me a sweet kiss!”

“Beep, beep, Richie.”

“Can it Stan the Man. You know you’re on our side!”

There in-diner concert was ignored but not forgotten as they all began to argue over what should be played on the jukebox next. They really did love their Sunday hang outs and whenever they hang out. Something linked them together- something in their souls made them right for each other.

“Don’t even fuckin try to convince me otherwise!”

“God, Rich, do you have to be so aggressive?”

“Haystack, tell me you love Come On Eileen!”

Ben threw a piece of bacon and it hit Richie’s glasses, leaving a grease smudge mark on the lenses.

“Well, thanks for the meat Benny, I’ll come by your house later and you can give me some more.”

“Beep, beep, Richie.”

Mike laughed and it started a chain reaction. The seven teenagers sitting in the diner cackled at each other and the few of Richie’s jokes that were actually funny. They ate, argued more, and enjoyed their time, as they would for as long as they hoped.

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

130lb of Ukrainian Courage pt. 12

Lip spots his brother sat on a bench from the gated entrance of the park and waves his free hand over his head in greeting. He knows that Mickey must be around somewhere, he doesn’t usually leave Ian’s side for more than a minute unless he has to. To Lip that shit is weirdly possessive but Ian doesn’t seem to mind it, in fact his brother seems to actively enjoy it.

Lip shifts the cardboard tray of Starbucks drinks to his other hand, closing the gate behind him. He winces as his bruised ribs stretch with the movement. Storming into Ian and Mickey’s house like that had been a few steps short of suicidal, but only a few. Mickey might be a human guard-dog when it comes to Ian, but to most other people, he’s still a dangerous guy with a short temper.  Lip thinks he probably got some sort of ‘extended family beat-down discount’ because he’s not actually that fucked up, but he still got his ass handed to him.

Thinking back on his attempted rescue this morning it had been a really fucking stupid thing to do and fuck Archie for planting the seed that it was Mickey who messed Ian’s face up. Nearly eight years have gone by and in that time, there have been arguments; Ian has occasionally stormed back to the Gallagher house for a night or two over some row or another but Mickey has never been abusive.

Lip expected him to be. Everyone expected a Milkovich, gay or not, to be an abusive piece of shit once the honeymoon period wore off. But Mickey is devoted to Ian. The word ‘faithful’ springs to mind and Lip grunts in surprise at his own minds conjuring, but there is no denying that is the word for it. Mickey is faithful to Ian, in every sense. Maybe more so even than Lip has been throughout their late-teens and twenties.

Lip wasn’t the one at clinics waiting for meds, he wasn’t the one helping Ian take small sips of water and make it to the bathroom when he was too depressed to move. He hasn’t actually done a whole lot for his brother in the last decade that wasn’t in some way just following Mickey’s lead.

He runs his hands over the bruises at his throat and rolls his eyes. Fucking idiot.

“Lip!”

As if conjured, Mickey is waving at him from the playground, a bright smile on his face, making Lip jump and nearly spilling the crappy peace-offering everywhere. Lip knows that smile. Every guy in South Side who has ever owed a Milkovich money or laid an unwanted hand on Mandy, knows that smile.

“Hey, Mickey.”

Lip looks anxiously toward Ian who is watching placidly from the park bench he is sprawled across and then realises what he is doing and squares his shoulders. It would suck if Mickey decided to go for round two but Lip is not going to hide behind his little brother to prevent it.

“Thanks for coming, man. I’m sorry about earlier. How you doin’?”

Mickey hops over the brightly painted dividing fence and claps a hand on Lip’s shoulder, maybe a bit harder than necessary but not exactly aggressive and still with that weirdly handsome and utterly terrifying smile.

“Er… yeah. Okay.”

Lip looks from the tattooed knuckles that make him want to roll his eyes every time he sees them to Mickey’s face, his eyebrows raised in his usual sardonic manner.

Mickey’s smile tightens at the corners as Lip makes his appraisal but doesn’t shift and Lip wonders what the fuck is going on before noticing an identical pair of blue eyes watching them intently from the top of the slide. Of course. They’re playing nice for their audience, no doubt at Ian’s order.  

Lip might not be the biggest fan of Mickey but he does like his kid and essentially, Yevgeny is Ian’s son too so fine! Lip lets himself smile back and nods happily

“Hey, yeah, I’m sorry about before. My bad, man.”

He raises his voice to be sure that Yev will hear this and offers Mickey his hand. The handshake is brusque but solid enough. Mickey glances across at Ian who is stretching and standing up, strolling over to them with a smirk on his face.

Lip returns his laconic smile. He can’t help thinking of nature programs on the Discovery Channel about wolves and how the Alpha of the pack will take control and assume command naturally. That’s his little brother now. Pure fucking Alpha and Lip never even noticed the change happening. He wonders if Mickey noticed the power shift as it happened or whether it surprised him too … and how the Hell did Ian manage to tame a Milkovich anyway… actually, Lip doesn’t want to know.

*

“You brought coffee?”

“Peace offering. I got Soy Cappuccino, Strawberry Frappe for Yev, gingerbread latte and a mocha flat.”

Lip nods to Mickey who is tonguing his lip self-consciously. It isn’t that he can’t afford Starbucks, though once upon a time that would have bothered him, it isn’t even that the iconic little cups make him think of middle-class soccer mom’s desperate for an affair with the coach, it is that Lip is holding the tray so damn casually, like he has been doing it his whole life, whilst Mickey isn’t entirely sure what three of those things are.

“Which ones mine?”

Ian asks, plucking Yevgeny’s drink out.

“Whatever you want. I don’t mind.”

“Mick? What do you want?”

Mickey wants Yev’s drink because it looks fucking awesome, all cream and … cookie? Shit. He glances back to the less interesting looking cups and shrugs nonchalantly

“I’ll have the … ginger one.”

Lip snorts and Mickey gives him the finger before accepting the cup Ian passes him. He would have had the mocha if he know what it was or the cappuccino but what the fuck is soy sauce doing in coffee? Gross fuckin’ hipster bullshit.

Yev is handed his drink and the three men go sit on the bench while Yev goes back to play. Mickey is sipping cautiously at his latte, which is annoyingly delicious.

Lip and Ian, less enthused with the novelty, are studying each other and trying to work out how to begin the conversation.

“So why do you look like shit?”

Lip asks finally and Ian grins at him. There was a time that Lip knew everything about Ian. It wasn’t until Ian realised that he was gay that he had a secret from Lip. But it had been a big secret to keep and had changed things between them a little, forcing Lip to see Ian as a person separate to their bond.

“I wanna tell you, but you need to listen. Quietly. And you can’t tell Fiona.”

“Okay.”

Lip balances his cup on his knee and produces a pack of cigarettes, lighting up smoothly and offering the packet round. Ian takes one but Mickey doesn’t.

“You want me to stay or …?”

Mickey is looking at Ian with a small frown between his brows.

“Up to you.”

Mickey licks his lip, he very clearly wants to leave but Ian is here so Mickey is staying put. Lip rolls his eyes and ignores the small stab of jealousy that tucks under his ribs.

Ian does all the talking and Lip listens carefully, his expression darkening with shock and then utter hatred. Ian gets past the worst of it, skimming over the details and letting Lip put the pieces together himself which he does with absolute horror.

“Jesus, Ian! That’s … I …”

“I’m okay, it was fucked up but Mickey got me out ...”

Ian threads his fingers through Mickey’s as his boyfriend jerks, shocked to hear his name. Lip snorts angrily and shakes his head

“Got you out? It’s his fault you were there!”

Lip turns his attention to Mickey, upper-lip curling snarl.

“You know this is your fault, right? You literally brought this shit to your doorstep because your Dad fucking hates you and you’re too stupid to see it.”

Mickey squints off to the side and cricks his neck, resolutely silent. He doesn’t disagree with any of that. Not really. But this conversation is between Ian and his brother and Mickey doesn’t need to justify anything to Lip, not even if he thinks it’s true.

“Hey!”

Ian shoves his brother’s shoulder, hard, pushing him backwards out of Mickey’s space.

“Do not put this on him. Mickey did nothing wrong,”

Turning to Mickey, Ian repeats clearly and confidently, gripping his leg hard until Mickey flicks his gaze briefly in Ian’s direction.

“You did nothing wrong.”

Lip doesn’t have the patience to watch Ian coaxing Mickey out of what is clearly a shame-spiral of sorts. The stupidity of leaving his brother alone with Terry on the loose … Jesus!

“So where the fuck is Terry now?”

“The asshole is fuckin’ dead.”

Mickey says bluntly, not trusting himself to say more but not willing to hide in his silence either. He doesn’t look at either of the Gallagher brother’s but his fingers touch Ian’s knee lightly as he stands and walks over to Yevgeny, throwing his coffee cup into a nearby trash can so hard that the dregs explode upwards in a shower of creamy droplets.

Ian gives his brother his best ‘what the fuck?’ look and Lip shrugs.

“What part of what I said was wrong?”

“All of it! Mickey isn’t responsible for his father any more than we’re responsible for Frank.”

Lip sniffs heavily, as he always done when out argued and not wanting to admit it.

“So who killed Terry then? Won’t have been him.”

Lip jerks his chin toward Mickey’s retreating form and Ian frowns but tells Lip the rest. Lip nods and folds his arms defensively.

“He deserved to fuckin’ die long before someone finally offed him.”

Lip drains his coffee cup, nodding to himself. Ian hesitates and then asks the question that has been bugging him.

“Why did you say it wouldn’t have been Mickey?”

Lip shrugs and looks over to the playground where Mickey is now watching Yevgeny play, obediently following the little boy’s instructions to watch him do this and that.

“Cause Mickey loved the old bastard. Honestly, Ian, I know you think the Milkovich’s are no more fucked up than we are, but trust me, they are. Mickey used to worship the ground Terry walked on, like fucking Stockholm Syndrome or something, that doesn’t go away easily.”

Ian shuffles uncomfortably on the bench and shakes his head

“No, man. I mean after Mickey came out and his Dad got sent down again, he was done with Terry. Never visited him, never wrote to him...”

“Doesn’t mean he stopped caring. Listen, I just figured it wouldn’t have been him who pulled the trigger. Not even for you. Turns out, I was right, it was Svetlana. Tough fuckin’ bitch!”

Lip grins as he lights another cigarette, offering Ian one and then lighting them both up. Ian smokes quietly mulling over what Lip has said. Did Mickey still love Terry? Ian cannot imagine it. He’s hated Frank since he was a teenager, wouldn’t give a fuck if he died and would probably not really think much about it and compared to Terry, Frank has been a passable excuse of a father.

Ian watches as Yev charges away from the swings, Mickey calling out to him to watch his step and then picking up Yev’s discarded sweater from the ground, dusting it off and trailing after their son.

Ian knows that Mickey hasn’t been sleeping well, he knows that he feels vulnerable, they both do! But he hadn’t really considered that Mickey might actually be grieving. Not really.

The thought makes Ian’s skin feel a little tight and clammy, like he is stuck on a crowded train with the heating on full blast and he doesn’t have room to shrug his coat off. He doesn’t want Mickey to be grieving for Terry but worse would be if he were doing it silently and alone because he thinks he can’t tell Ian.

Lip watches thoughts flicker across his little brother’s face and sighs. Ian has always been the odd one out. The third child, the middle son, the cuckoo in the nest with his flaming hair and quiet nature and even something as horrible as this, he is dealing with it quietly and in his own way.

“You good? I mean, not actually good, but coping?””

“Yeah I’m fine.”

Ian nods and accepts Lip’s embrace.

“If you need anything, call me. I’ll be here. And I’m sorry for causing shit this morning. I was an asshole.”

“Yeah but that’s not exactly new territory for you.”

Ian smirks and Lip grins back, nodding

“You think I should say bye to Mickey and Yev?”

Ian glances over to the climbing frame Yev is dangling upside down from, giggling at Mickey who is clearly trying to coax him down.

“Nah, at least one of them is royally pissed at you.”

“The little one or the kid?”

“Fuck off, Lip.”

*

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Can i request for a bad boy serpent jughead jones and the sweet girl next door betty cooper fiction and maybe with a steamy make out session scene? Thank you!

Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams

Part 1/3: But Mama, I Want a Bad Boy

So the story is slightly AU. Jughead never attended school in Riverdale, never was friends with Betty and Archie, as a matter of fact they didn’t even know each other. No murder ever happened, Betty was never pinning over Archie. I also made some other small changes that you’ll notice upon reading. Plus, I made Reggie a Serpent too, for no reason really, I just wanted him to be Jughead’s childhood best friend in this universe. :p Last but not least, Betty turned out to be extremely feisty while I was writing this; she is still a sweetheart in pastel colors but her character is a tad more Betty Cooper in episodes 12 &13. I hope that’s ok! Thank you for requesting, dear anon! Enjoy, lovelies! ❤️(Okay, this is 34 pages long. I don’t even know why, I don’t even know what I have written in so many pages. I apologize in advance for that mammoth length. Warning: turns mildly smutty but definately hot and heavy at the end.)

Southside Elementary Schoolwas a rare example of fine architecture in the small town of Riverdale. Rebuiltat the outskirts of town, after a disastrous fire caused by a minor during aprank gone wrong a couple of years ago, and squeezed between Southside Kindergartenand Southside High, it looked nothing like the two crumbling, cement coloredbuildings on its sides that lacked any learning motivation. It was modern, purewhite with splashes of green and purple and it brought a fresh air of change, apromise that maybe the next generation of Southside kids would not have theominous fate of their ancestors.

The Serpents had outdonethemselves with the construction of the of the building, hiring Fred Andrewsand his crew – one of the few people that wasn’t driven by discrimination andalways agreed in doing business at the south side of town – and wasting a largeamount of money from their infamous Serpent vault to create a place appropriatefor shaping young minds. Maybe that’s why sweet and always optimistic BettyCooper smiled every day at three o’clock sharp when her sneakers would hop upthe marble stairs of the buzzing with life building. Because it was proving herright; Serpents would do anything for their children, just like any otherparent on a prestigious office job. Serpents weren’t the monsters everyonethought they were.

Her excuse for walking all theway from their quaint north paradise to the disreputable south district fivedays per week was something that Betty always found fascinating; volunteering.Nurturing and caring by nature, she was constantly filling her free time withactivities that offered assistance to those needed; taking care of stray catsand dogs down at the animal center, gathering food supplies and clothing forthe homeless at their local church, being an annual blood donor, being proudcofounder along with her best friend, Veronica Lodge, of the two years nowsuccessful female empowerment club, Girls Speak Louder, at Riverdale High. Andwhen senior year came and she needed a bigger challenge, something to bring herout of her good girl comfort zone, a tiny announcement had caught her eye,stuck on the bulletin board at the center of her high school corridor; Volunteers needed at Southside Elementary School.

Her sister was excited likeher, her mom was concerned, her dad was livid. Hal Cooper, always the biggestsupporter of his daughter’s choices and the proudest for her accomplishments,was petrified that his innocent little girl had decided to step foot in thatgodforsaken place amongst snakes and muddy waters. Betty talked him into it ofcourse, mustering all her good girl charm during one of their father-daughtermechanic sessions, and here she was now, already two months in her position ofassisting little ones in reading and writing after school, along with beingresponsible for the school’s still limited but gradually expanding library.

“Miss Betty, you look sopretty today. Your shoes are the cutest.” Sasha, one of the youngest in her‘class’ complimented her like every day, the little girl holding the teen in apedestal of idolization. Betty smiled sweetly down at her, turning her feetinward so for the tips of her violet floral slip on Vans to touch incoordination with a smooching sound out of her lips, indicating them kissing,and causing the little girl to giggle.

“Thank you, Sasha, but youdefinitely are prettier.” Betty spread positivity like a pro, feeling her heartswell when the small angel beamed up at her, one of her front teeth missing andmaking the smile even cuter.

“Will you do my hair inpigtails like yesterday?” she demanded in a sugary voice, chubby fingerssmudging the lead against the open notebook in front of her.

“If I see all those sentencescorrectly and neatly written.” The teen sent her a playful grimace and muffledlightly her frizzy locks in affection as she nodded cheerfully and went back towork. Her green eyes darted to the rest of the kids, some writing and somequietly reading, and seeing as nobody seemed to need her assistance, she movedto the window for aimless gazing, relishing to the rare feeling of warm sunraysbathing her face and the skin of her arms her blush pink sleeveless button-upshirt left uncovered.

Loud cheers and cheerfulshrieks caught her attention and Betty focused on some kids playing soccer inthe yard, a lanky raven haired girl amongst all the boys scoring a goal beforedoing a cartwheel in victory with a carefree laugh that brought a laughingsmile on Betty’s lips too. She landed just on time to greet five guys that hadjust entered the school premises, the one in the very front high-fiving her andmuffling her hair in affection, and Betty felt as if a meteor had struck at thecenter of her chest making her heart bounce violently at the sudden impact.

She had seen them before,rarely around town but frequently the hours she was volunteering, the two ofthem dropping by almost every day to pick up their younger siblings whereas theother three just tagged along. Betty was guessing they were around her age anda close group of best friends, an exclusive and childhood originated boys’squad, carrying around an air of bad boy charm and a smoldering confidenceinflicted by their matching black leather jackets; Serpents.

However, the tightness in herchest wasn’t because of fear or intimidation, the basic normal reactions everycitizen of the north side showed upon coming face to face with the imposingpresence of anyone from the South. It was because of him, the one always at thecenter, always at the front, that had the ability to fuel the sleeping lava atthe depths of her monotonously perfect self. She didn’t know who he was, shedidn’t even know his name, but what she did know was that when he was around,he was pulling her in like a magnetic force, like her own personal center ofgravity, and her eyes couldn’t do anything else but stare, gawk at his terribly handsome face and lean physic clad in darkcolors, while her mind was turning into a useless organ, floating in theturbulent waters of a hypnotizing nirvana.

Today, of course, was noexception. Betty couldn’t help but roam her eyes over his willowy body, longlimps and slender figure, so far from all those typical buffed jocks and so Betty’stype, spotting his usual black jeans and combat boots that gave him the bikerguy vibe that worked wonders into her mind and, to be honest, her body too. Whatcame as a surprise though was today’s choice of shirt, a white cotton vest,skintight and tucked inside his jeans, him not wearing his Serpent jacket ontop of it but having it draped over his shoulder, due to the afternoon heat. Andwhat a pleasant surprise that was.

Betty could feel her skinburning, not from the furnace like weather outside but from the way the materialwas clinging deliciously against his muscular chest, his board shoulders, histoned stomach. For the first time his biceps were uncovered, well-built andflexing in a manner that screamed raw masculinity, and she actually felt a tadannoyed at his habit of wearing what seemed like forty layers of clothing,keeping those bad boys only for the girls that Betty was sure were constant inhis bedroom. At that thought her eyebrows knitted together in a frown, the girlactually catching a hint of jealousy puffing her chest, shaking her head tosnap out of her reverie and scold herself for how stupid she was acting,letting her hormones and tiny idiotic girl crush get the best of her.

But then he smiled at theelementary kids that were now flocking around him bouncing in excitement, thatboyish smile that Betty had seen him sport before only around his little sister,and made her stomach flip in an unknown fashion, as he ran his fingers throughhis always messy black waves and the youngest Cooper could actually feel herknees getting a little weak at the sight of him being so effortlessly gorgeousand so hot. A giggly boy passed himthe ball and he dropped his leather jacket and messenger bag recklessly to theconcrete, rolling the worn out soccer ball with the tip of his combat boot overhis foot and then bouncing it on top of it, juggling the ball from one foot tothe other and tricking expertly the boy in front of him, stealing the ballcompletely. Due to his physic he was very fast and agile, coltish legs makingit seem like he was flying amongst the hyperactive children, musclesstretching, shoulder blades flexing, dark mane swinging sexily against hislaughing eyes. Betty was having trouble breathing, the air inside the smallclassroom suffocating her, and her hand came unconsciously to rub the base ofher neck uneasily, a heavy gulp vibrating under her sweaty fingers as theypushed the lapels of her shirt more open in a desperate attempt to supply herbrain with much needed oxygen. He was in an illegal biker gang, one of thosebad guys that everyone kept advising her not to even spare a second glance at.How could he be so charmingly handsome and irresistibly human?

He was good at the game, hewas being cocky and confident, doing tricks and advanced moves despite playingwith eleven year olds and the heat Betty was feeling was getting amplified, forsome reason the blonde being attracted to his whole Alpha male persona. She hadbeen around a lot of star athletes in her life as a cheerleader but he hadsomething else, a raw passion and intensity from having learnt to kick a ball carelesslyin the freedom of some soil, pebbly streets, an unremitting youthful ardor thatthose prestigious golden boys would never gain in the luxury of their personal traininggyms. With a gracious twirl, he trapped the ball between his ankles and jumped,sending it flying backwards before twisting his heels in a way that Betty hadseen only professional soccer players do in the games her dad watched in thebasement, kicking it over his head and to his sister who scored once again, theunknown Serpent and his friends erupting in hollering cheers, practicallyshaking the thin glass on the windows of the building.

The raven girl ran to him inglee and he hoisted her up his back to lie on her stomach, both of themoutstretching their arms at the sides and mimicking a helicopter as he ran in acircle, Betty giggling lightly along with them at their celebratory ritual. Herlaughter though was cut short when, free of his sister’s weight, the guyresponsible for her flaming cheeks and fluttering heart pulled his vest fromhis pants and used the hem to wipe the sweat off his upper lip, flashing her adelicious, glistering set of abs and a small hint of raven hair right at the centerof his two prominent V lines, disappearing seductively under the waistband ofhis jeans.

Betty actually bit her lip tohold back a moan. For the first time in her life she was feeling such a strongattraction, a burning desire, for a guy, let alone a complete stranger. Yes,she had had her fair share of crushes in the past and some heated make outswith her two previous boyfriends on backseats or under the bleachers butnothing compared to this, nothing ever came close to that powerful urge she hadto kiss him long and senseless just by looking at him. That’s why things neverwent further than some heavy caresses and awkward grinding over clothes witheither Trev or Chuck. But staring at him now, flashing boyish smiles andrevealing more and more hard mass of an Adonis-like chest, good Lord, Betty’smind was creating raunchy scenarios and she needed to be stopped.

He was the one to snap herback to reality and his cocky attitude that seemed to be a reoccurring trait ofhis character. Because he knew that all this time she was staring at him, evenputting on a little more of a show just for her sake, so when he let go of hisshirt for it to fall loosely against his toned abs, his baby blue eyes,mischievous behind disheveled black locks, connected with hers through thewindow and he winked at her, he gave her an actualboyish wink and a sexy side smirk that melted her insides in an instant andcaused her heart to stop for a torturing second. Instantly, blood shot in heralready rosy cheeks, her green doe eyes became round balls of embarrassment andBetty averted her gaze to her feet, mentally cursing herself for being caughtbut mostly for not being anything like Veronica or Cheryl, both of them pros atflirting and seduction.

“Miss Betty, I can’t spellthis word. Can you help me, please?” a voice called from the back of the smallclassroom and made her jump, disappointed that her daydreaming bubble had burstso violently and he was now with his back at her, walking away with aprotective arm curled over his sister’s shoulders. A heavy burden ofdisappointment landed on her chest and she sighed sullenly as she turned away too,ready to get back into her bubbly Betty Cooper mode and assist her littleangels.

What she didn’tknow was that the strange boy was still smirking. And it was all because of thestunning blonde vision that had caught his eye long before he had caught hers.

Doesn’the have an IG account? Or even a Facebook one? What century does he live into?I wanna see the goods…😉

Betty shook her head with atsk of amused disapproval at the blue bubble that popped on her phone’s screen,accompanying the multiple others that filled her and Polly’s personal chat.They were texting back and forth for an hour now, the two sisters talking abouttheir day, Polly’s tons of reading for med school, Betty’s latest article forthe Blue & Gold, Betty’s recent boy toy obsession. The younger Cooper hadmade the mistake to confide in her sister about her small maybe there crush that very night after the winking incident,merely because she just couldn’t get him out of her mind and she needed to venther teenage frustration to somebody before she would end up locked in a mentalfacility. However, that proved, well, a mistake because now her teasing wasrelentless. She loved her sister to the moon but her pestering nature andprankster mentality was the only thing Betty definitely didn’t miss now thatshe was in California for college.

Yousound like Veronica and that’s scary, have that checked. 😘 And I told you,I don’t even know his name!!

Betty pressed the two exclamation marks in frustration, hitting replyand actually groaning out loud at the response that came in barely a heartbeat.

Then ask him!

So simple, yet, so impossible. She sighed, biting her lip as the tappingof her thumps were filling the silence around her.

He’s bad news, Pol…

The “read” sign appeared under her white bubble; Polly started writingsomething, then stopped. Betty signed again, dropping her phone carelesslyinside her turquoise backpack with a heavy heart. She knew that there wasn’tgonna be a response because her statement was right; he was bad news for girlslike her. He was raised in a world of pedal smoke and black leather and she camefrom a chamomile scented and strawberry flavored wonderland. They weren’t yinand yang, they were simply complete opposites and Betty was old enough to knowthat such fairytales never had a happy ending. Behind the words of love andprosperity that people always added at the end of every fantastic story about agolden-haired princess and a dark charming prince there was this whole otherdimension in which he and she were never destined to be together.

Betty gathered her things with an atypical somber mood, then put herdenim bomber jacket over her scantily clad form. Her schedule at school todaywas heavy, with two extra hours of cheerleading practice after the end of classes,so she didn’t really have time to change out of her uniform before coming tothe south side for her volunteering work. The little girls were ecstatic andthe little boys in awe upon seeing their teacher in the colors of blue and goldthat suited her like a second skin but right now she was actually feeling alittle wary about her attire. Betty always felt good in her cheerleading uniform,still with a long list of insecurities on her shoulders but comfortable in herown skin nonetheless, but at that very moment her chest tingled with thissubconscious fear that every woman in a short skirt sported upon walking aroundalone after darkness had settled. It was in the feminine DNA, subscribed intheir genes, and she hated with every fiber of her body that in their time andage she was still supposed to feel threatened by any man that happened to passher by in the street.

But Betty Cooper rarely gave up, if ever. So when her dad had told herthat he wouldn’t be able to pick her up tonight – that was their deal for hervolunteering at the Southside, him dropping by every night after her shift todrive her home – she didn’t tell Archie to come instead, as Hal had made hisdaughter promise him. She was a big girl now, a woman; a strong and fearlesswoman. And she was more than capable of walking home alone without needing anyman to play her knight in shining armor. She was going to be her own knight, ifneeded.

So she waved at the polite middle aged janitor, tightened her preppyponytail and headed for the road, enjoying the earie vibe of the south side ofRiverdale at night. Her thoughts wandered to him again like every other night –secret adolescent musings under the protective pastel veil of her teenage room thatleft her lying with an aching longing on her virginal white cotton sheets –trying to guess what grade he was in, if he was a jock or maybe he liked poetryor photography, if he enjoyed living in Riverdale, if he dreamt of getting outof here just like her. And as time was passing by quickly and her squeaky whiteNike sneakers were a few meters away from Sweetwater Bridge that separated thetwo sides of their town, loud guy voices made her ears perk and her hands bawlinstantly into fists, as shiny green eyes turned to the source, a small andabandoned looking park in the middle of old, graffiti filled houses and lifelessoak trees. There, on the only rickety bench amongst rusty swings and avandalized seesaw the four boys of the young Serpent squad were engaged inheavy banter and boastful laughs, sharing a joint and a cooler of beers.

To her surprise, she wasn’t scared at the late night encounter, onlyseverely disappointed that for the first time he-who-doesn’t-have-a-name wasn’tat the center of the small ground of friends that seemed to always be attachedat the hip. Betty’s beautiful features dropped in a heartbroken pout asdesperate eyes scanned each of them in hopes that her secret boy crush was alsolurking in the darkness and she was just unable to notice him – impossible butstill she had to check – but once her attempts were proven fruitless and hermind snapped out of her lovesick girl world, that’s when she felt theatmosphere shifting. Four pairs of eyes were staring back at her, setting herunder the microscope with their scrutinizing gaze as she was lazily walking by,Betty feeling an actual shiver run down her spine in uneasiness, as she snappedher head down and away from them, cheeks flushing crimson and heart boundingagainst the golden R of her cheerleading shirt.

“Nice legs!” one of them hollered in boyish delight, sending his friendsin a fit of manly laughter before joining in too. Betty flinched at hisdisrespectful attempt of a compliment and shoved her fists further into thepockets of her jacket, picking up her step. Suddenly, she was hyper-aware ofeverything around her; the chilly breeze of the early-spring night, theobnoxious fluorescent light of the cheap street lamps over her scantily cladform, the light thudding of her backpack against her waist, the brushing of hertiny cheerleading skirt over the very top of her thighs, barely an inch longerthan her bomber jacket. Her nerves were on code red territory.

“Man, those suckers from the north side always get the good ones.” Hemurmured in appreciation, loud enough for her to hear, before shouting againtowards her direction. “Don’t you want a change of flavor, babe?”

Betty’s tongue slipped, a tsk sound of disgust accompanying her fed-upeye roll, stealing a subtle glance from the boy that thought himself to be anirresistible player. Freakishly tall, board shoulders, well-build physic, spikyraven hair; yeah, she was right, a Serpent anda jock. Double that male ego cockiness she loathed.

“Come on, Reggie, leave her alone.” Another boy scolded his friend butBetty wasn’t really fooled by the insignificant chivalrous intervention.

“We’re just messing around here, babe.” Reggie, as she had now learnt,spoke up again, an undertone of mischief coloring his baritone voice. “But hey,if you really want some Southside in you, here’s your chance.” He barked a loudlaughter and the boys around him couldn’t resist laughing too, clapping soundsfilling the air by what Betty assumed were congratulating hi-fives.

She knew that any other girl in her shoes would duck her head to theground and practically run away from the possible danger. But she was BettyCooper, cofounder of a female empowerment club and vocal protestor against anykind of harassment and bullying, so she came to an abrupt stop and held herhead high, feeling her dark palette of colors staining the perpetual sunshineof her personality. Turning swiftly on her heels, she started pacing towardsthem in determination, dry leaves getting crashed violently under the weight ofher footsteps, and her green eyes became two pools of painful annoyance uponseeing them murmuring in excitement and puffing up their chests, clueless andhopeful that such a preppy looking girl was ready to walk on the wild side withthem.

Betty stopped right before the guy with the big mouth. He towered overher, way too many inches taller and boarder than her, pleased lopsided smirkintact, but her confidence never got bent, maybe because behind the cocky glinton his coal like eyes she could only see boyish teasing and not the actualbloodcurdling threat that some guys, and even older men, in her seeminglyperfect side of town had inflicted upon her and a plethora of other girls withjust a simple yet utterly perverted glance. Nonetheless, the guy in front ofher was still rude and disrespectful; and ignorant impoliteness was ranking onthe top five bullet points of Betty Cooper’s list of pet peeves.

“Why don’t you say that to my face, huh?” she tilted her chin up, herserious expression and curt tone catching him off guard. “Go on, what? You lostyour balls now that you are face to face with the cute, defenseless little girlyou were looking to score five seconds earlier?” Reggie shuttered someincoherent mumblings, chuckling in awkward obliviousness as he tried to come upwith another of his clever remarks. Betty didn’t let him with a shake of herhead and knitted in frustration perfect eyebrows.

“Seriously, what made you grow such an inferiority complex that youdesperately want to validate your masculinity by throwing tactless andborderline laughable comments at any girl, with the hope that someday one ofthem might actually take up on your offer and finally give your right palm abreak?” He bounced his head back in surprise, eyes blinking rapidly, the boysaround him going silent and still as statues while watching the hurricane thaterupted from the sweet looking blonde girl. “Were you raised in a misogynist environmentor is it just you, compensating for a rather small capacity of male genes?” she colored the adjective withenough sarcasm and casted her judging green orbs momentarily to the front ofhis jeans, catching with the corner of her eyes two of his friends droppingtheir jaws at the well-played insult. “I could stay here and educate you about howinsensible and, bottom line, politically wrong this catcall culture you are soin too deep is but I’d rather save my breath and my well-rounded opinions for somebodywith an actual dimensional brain, so simply hear this out; get over it, man upand stop walking around like a freaking sexist cliché.” Betty ended her speechfull of spank, head raised in superiority and inner pleasure upon reddeningthem speechless, her shiny green eyes never unleashing the hold of his nowdisorientated and full of embarrassment ones.

A slow clapping echoed in the stillness of the night and startled her,snapping Betty back into reality and dissolving her Simone De Beauvoir momentwith a gentle blow, before, there, through the darkness, emerged the darkprince that had invaded her dreams, dressed in black and leather, lips looselycurled in an easy going smirk around a burning cigarette. She took a shy stepback, intimidated and flustered by his presence as always, lowering her Bambieyes to the ground and curling her arms awkwardly over her chest, stealingtiny, self-conscious glances under her lush eyelashes of his approachingfigure. There was intensity in his eyes, their calm baby blue shadecontradicting with the tsunami of foreign emotions his stare dedicated to heronly, and Betty felt herself losing any sense of her surroundings under suchearth-shattering connection.

“Well, I’ve never saw anyone shut Reginald Mantle Jr. up in a merematter of seconds and with such excessive vocabulary. Impressive, truly.”  She heard his voice for the first time,directing her fully as if no one else was occupying the planet but her, and shefelt her insides clench at its thick tone, soothing yet husky enough to painther fantasies of him with even more appraising colors, and his stare that heldsomething new, something that she had never experienced before in anyinteraction with the opposite sex. She was sure her cheeks were instantlyvibrant red. And his lips trembled in a tiny smirk because he noticed.

He then turned to his friends, shifting subtly to become a human barrierbetween them and the timid looking girl. “And I thought you, dickheads,” the offensive word wascolored with a mild annoyance along with the usual endearment such insults heldin the bro word “knew how to treat a lady.” His tone was castigating and hisposture tall and imposing but Betty never felt threatened by it, only stronglycared for and protected. Faint murmurs echoed to her left and she dared to peekat the boys next to her, seeing them, to her amazement, drop their heads to theground in remorse and uneasiness. Her speculations that he was the alpha of thegroup were correct and the blonde girl felt a strange heat ignite at the depthsof her, up until now, dull existence.

“We lack some sunshine here at the Southside. It’s a shame if we pushher away.” He offered her a sexy boyish smirk, thick raven waves playing hideand seek with his mischievous eyes and Betty almost lost her footing, meltedright there on the dirty playground, as she felt a trembling sigh puffing herchest in girly delight.

“C’mere.” He nodded towards his direction, adorably sweet if she dared sayso, jerking his head to the side and effectively pushing his hair out of hiseyes.  “I’ll walk you to the bridge.” Heoffered, staring down at her intensely again.

Betty’s cheeks heated up once more and her fingertips went numb fromnervous excitement. “It’s fine, I’ll—” she stuttered lamely but he cut her off.

“I promise I’m not a serial killer.” There was evident teasing in histone, her looking at him like a cute deer caught in the headlights that amusedhim to no end. “Plus, I don’t bite.” He went on cockily, straightening up hisboard shoulders. “Not without permission at least.” There was a wink again, oneof those completely sinful ones that only he could master, and Betty’s will toobject vanished in a heartbeat at the innuendo, jelly legs shyly brining her tohis side like she was compelled.

He gave her a full smile this time, a pleased one that she reciprocatedwith a tiny smirk, and made a grand gesture with his arms for her to go firstin gentlemanly politeness, the blonde infatuated girl nudging her cheek againstthe denim of her shoulder to hide her raging blush, biting her lip to preventher giddy smile from spreading widely on her face. There were some faintwhistles of appreciation and teasing from the other males, him flicking thestub of his cigarette towards their direction in fake warning mixed withswaggering pride, and Betty would have been uneasy under the attention, if itwasn’t for his hand landing respectfully between her shoulder blades, givingher a gentle push. His large palm sent shivers down her spine, despite thelayers of clothing, and Betty was sure she was going to die at some point downtheir small walk to the bridge.  

There were some minutes of silence filled with only the sounds of naturearound them, Betty making her pace a little slower than usual on purpose,wanting to prolong the unexpected encounter and the delicious tightness in herchest, and him falling into a lazy pace next to her, shoving his bony fingerscasually into the pockets of his ripped skinny jeans. She was observing theirfootwear as she was trying to control her raging heart and sweaty palms, whitesneakers contradicting with black leather boots, her round green eyesappreciating his long strides opposite her multiple small steps. Withoutactually thinking, she spoke up.

“You know, I don’t really go around acting like a bitch.” Betty for somereason wanted to clarify. “Or having late night strolls with strangers for thatmatter.” She went on cleverly, letting her eyes run up his lean physic to landon his handsome profile, her heart skipping a beat at the pretty smirk he wassporting.

“Figured.” He shrugged casually. “You’re practically oozing good girlcharm.” The words rolled around a teasing grin that got wider as he heard herscoff, his eyes playfully catching hers and making her swing lightly on herheels at the contact. “But you should, if the effect is that spectacular.” Heturned back in front, getting serious and almost tired as he continued. “Somepeople need a reminder to shut up; their idiocy is killing me day by day.” Hesighed.

Betty frowned, a silly grimace of confusion wrinkling her stunningfeatures. “You realize that we’re talking about one of your friends, right?”she huffed amused.

He chuckled with no sound, shaking his head. “Reggie is a good guy, allof them are. And I love him as a brother; we are brothers in every sense of the word.” There was a softer tonein his voice, an undeniable affection, and Betty caught herself smiling atthat. “So” he trailed off, offering her a jaunty side glance, “that gives meall the more right to call him out on the fact that he lacks courtesy and sufficientbrain cells.” His sardonic remark surprised her and she let a rather loudgiggle, him sending her a charming smile that caused her to bite her lip againat the way her stomach dropped in newfound desire, the blue shade of his eyesdarkening a tad at her reaction. Silence fell between them again, both snappingtheir heads down and in front to avoid the contact, the magnetic pull andsexual tension between them way too much to handle.

“And it’s Jones, Jughead Jones.” He suddenly exclaimed, gaining herattention back effectively. “In case you didn’t want us to be strangersanymore.” The raven haired boy offered in all his self-conscious glory, earninga raised eyebrow in return.

“Jughead?” Betty wondered incredulouslyabout the absurd nickname.

“Trust me, the real one is wayworse.” He snorted loudly. “My parents hate me; it’s strongly established sinceday one.”

“Well, it’s unique.” She shrugged a shoulder, secretly liking how itrolled over her tongue and matched his unique aura. “Cue in here my own boringname—” she sighed in exasperation but she didn’t get the chance to introduceherself.

“Betty Cooper. I know.” The boyish smile that he wholeheartedly sent herway, pleased and even shy, was all it took for the girl to completely gospiraling to another universe filled with sparkly love hearts and cupid arrows.

Luckily, self-preservation was still a thing at the back of her numbbrain. “Are you stalking me or something?” she grimaced in panic and horror.

Jughead laughed lightly at how adorable she looked, a reaction sobizarre in coordination with his dark parade looks. “Contrary to popularbelief, the fact that I belong in a sovereign motorcycle club doesn’t make menecessarily a pervert.” He reminded her cleverly, raising both his eyebrows.

She bit her lip again,embarrassed this time. “I’m sorry.” She murmured guiltily.

He momentarily focused his eyes on her trapped rosy lip; he just couldn’tresist. “It’s fine.” He sighed a little out of this world before shaking hishead to snap out of the hormonal reverie the preppy blonde seemed to drown himinto with just a simple lip bite.

“You’re a teacher down at our elementary school.” His tone turned aloofagain, him falling a step behind her to catch a scrunched soda can with thesole of his boot, kicking it idly back and forth between his feet while walking.“People on the Southside talk too,you know. Leggy blonde princess joyfully bouncing around in our underworld?That’s not a sight we enjoy every day.” Jughead informed her ingeniously, blueorbs momentarily enjoying the view of her killer legs in front of him andnaughty smirk curling his lips as he dropped them back to the rolling aluminum againsthis feet.

“You mean gossip.” She spatthe word with venom, twirling graciously along with the hem of her blue skirtto face him, Jughead appreciating the action and enjoying the way she took somebouncing steps backwards, high ponytail swinging in a silly fashion, before thetip of her sneaker kicked his shoe, stealing control of the useless can. Hehuffed at the challenge. “The perks of living in an awfully small town, I guess…”She kicked the soda can with venom, sending it flying against the tire of anold Suzuki with a shrieking sound that imitated the scream of frustration hertone was hiding, before regaining hold of it. “And I’m not a teacher; I’m justvolunteering.” She passed him their makeshift ball with a tiny flirty smile.

“Good.” He nodded once, fighting to smile back at her while doing sometricks with his right foot. “Cause I was seriously enraged that our teachers atSouthside High look nothing like you.” Those impish baby blues was on heragain, a single curly strand of hair falling effortlessly over them and Bettygiddily squirmed under his stare and the sexual undertone of his words.

“Damn, those first graders are lucky.” He sighed deeply, completelyinfatuated, and she suddenly felt his hot breath next to her ear, creatinggoosebumps against her skin, as he teasingly maneuvered his body in front ofher, pretending that her shapely legs were a tantalizing soccer goal beforekicking the can in between them, successfully scoring with a naughty grin. Theaction surprised her and she stumbled over his combat boots, hands flying offher sides in reflex and landing on his hard chest over the soft material of hisdark blue flannel in an attempt not to fall face first on the asphalt. What shecame face to face was a pair of piercing eyes, long gone their playfulness, andtwo wet, chapped lips, parted and exhaling once heavily at the impact, his ownhand reaching under her bomber jacket, gripping her hipbone to steady her,thump lightly grazing the soft skin her cropped cheerleading shirt leftuncovered. He smelled of nicotine and heady cologne, a scent that she now cravedon her bedsheets, and she of sensuous jasmine and fruit gums that had himurging to taste, drink greedily until there wasn’t a hint left on her bubblegumlips. Her Bambi eyes were round against his hazy ones that dropped instantly toher mouth, driven by some spell that was pulling him in, closer and closer,dizzy by the way she trembled against him and the tip of her tongue that cameto highlight the shimmery lip gloss that all this time was titillating hismind. His lips ghosted over hers, her eyelashes fluttered close, both theirhearts started thudding violently. But a dog barked loudly in the distance andstartled them, bodies jumping in fright and breaking their amorous bonds, amoment of magic forever lost.

Jughead was the first one to take a step back, giving her space, herface and heart dropping in disappointment.

“What grade are you in?” she blurted still light-headed, cursing herselfand biting the inside of her cheek instantly at her dumb word vomit, her stillnon-functioning and always weird brain picking that question instead of something more interesting or suitable tosay. Damn her and her inability to flirt like a normal human being.  

He sighed, disappointed and frustrated at the interruption too, butletting a breathy chuckle at the odd question. “Senior.” He fell back next toher, both resuming their walk, thankful for the light breeze that helped toease their pumping veins. “And hopefully next year I’ll be somewhere far, faraway.” He wished in longing, taking a deep breath, trying to taste what freedommust feel like.

“I thought you belonged in a sovereign motorcycle club.” Betty quoted himcheekily, earning a half side smirk in amusement from him. “That sounds like amapped up fate to me.” She pointed out with a hint of genuine concern.

“I guess I’m weird.” He shrugged casually. “And I have layers.” Headded, somehow vulnerable, focused on his combat boots. “Most people our age inthis lovely, quaint little town, either north or south, are interested inbooze, weed and sex. Well, my only vice is those bad guys.” He took a pack ofred Marlboro out of the pocket of his jacket with a smirk, retrieving acigarette and shoving the packet back in its place before unburying a metalliclighter, his initials and a snake craved on the side.

“Sucks to live here, right?” she watched as he flipped the lid expertlyand flame erupted, lighting the tip of the rolled tobacco, him inhaling astrong drug of poison that made his Adam’s apple bop. Betty gulped at thesight, chest deflating in a hot and bothered fashion.

“Understatement of the year.” Jughead mused in a snarky manor, voice atad raspier as he exhaled a cloud of smoke while licking his bitter lips. Bettyfelt a tingling sensation low in her belly, even though she knew there wasnothing attractive in cigarette reeking guys. Somehow he managed to make eventhat sexy, her mind instantly creating fantasies of him bare-chested, blowingcircles of smoke against her own open mouth.

“Our very own Great Wall restricts me from going any further.” His wordsand abrupt halt of his long limbs next to her snapped her back to reality,Betty blinking a few times to regain consciousness, upon stopping along himright at the start of Sweetwater Bridge, the human structure over the wateryboarder between their town’s rival sides.

“We don’t bite either, you know.” She fidgeted with the hem of herjacket, using his words from before and raising her eyes to witness hisreaction at her idle attempt to flirt.

He chuckled, bringing the cigarette to his lips. He inhaled, locking hiseyes on hers, before exhaling, blue orbs turning sly and intense once again. “Well,I have a feeling you do.” Sexy and mysterious, he managed to fuel the red onher cheeks and the tingles in her chest, a view that he rather enjoyed.  “Have a good night and stay away from trouble,alright slugger?” Teasingly, he pointed a warning finger at her.

Betty snorted a giggle, voice soft and sweet when she spoke again. “Goodnight.Thanks for walking me here.” She offered him a wide, dashing smile that gluedhim in place, unable to move, unable to think straight, blinded by the etherealbeauty of the girl in front of him. She ducked her head shyly under his gazeand started to walk away, internally squalling at the plot twist in heruneventful teenage life.

“Hey, Cooper!” His loud voice made her stop and turn back once again,preppy ponytail bouncing in anticipation just like her heart. “Save me anothersmile next time you see me, okay?” Jughead offered her his most gorgeous boyishsmile, laughing eyes, dimples and all, and now it was her time to stay stunned,altering her weight from one foot to the other in girly fashion, as he turnedto head his way with another one of his winks, leaving her staring with rosycheeks and a speeding heart.

The beeping of her phone made her jump, anxious fingers digging in herbag in fear that she was terribly late and the whole North was heading overwith torches and pitchforks led by her parents in an avenging mission.Hopefully, she audibly breathed in relief as a new message from Pollybrightened her screen, her sister’s words bringing back a dumbfounded smile onher lips.

Well, you never know. Give him a chance; he mightsurprise you. 😉

“They are Serpents, snakes.And their place is at the south side slithering in the muddy waters of theirswamp not mingling with us, infecting the town we built from scratch! You knowwhat? They should be thanking us for letting them lurk around our territories.But they are on borrowed time and now it’s our chance to cut off the head ofthose venomous, disgusting reptiles!”

Betty frowned upon pushing open the glass door of Pop’s diner andspotting her far from beloved ex-boyfriend and captain of the football team,Chuck Clayton, in a heated monologue, surrounded by other jocks that looked athim like he was some kind of savior or messiah. Next to the table they occupied,her friends were enjoying dinner and some shakes in their usual booth by thewindow, murmuring what was clear frustration about the aggravated jock. Bettycasually made her way over, avoiding on purpose Chuck’s eyes that rose uponspotting her walk by, and she slid graciously on the empty leather seat next toKevin.

“What is he going on about?” she whispered boringly, dropping herbackpack to the floor and stealing a fry from the plate in the middle, chewinglazily and leaning back more comfortably while resting a leg over Kevin’sthigh, the boy patting her knee in greeting and sympathy that she had brieflydated someone so self-centered and awfully arrogant.

“The Serpents, as always.” Veronica, from the window seat across her,legs on Archie’s lap and arms curled around his neck, whispered back with aneye roll, the redhead nodding once in annoyance too. “Seriously, Chuck” sheturned to the guy on the other table, annoyed “can you take the testosteronedown a notch? We are not intimidated by it, we are not interested in it. Just stop.” The brunette colored the wordwith a fed up huff, closing her eyes to indicate how tired she was of hisprivileged bullshit.

“Just go back to sucking face with Andrews, alright VeLo?” Chucknarrowed his eyes in fake politeness, Archie straightening up inside her embracein defense, earning a soothing pat on his chest by his girlfriend. “Let ushandle the mature stuff as we know best.” The boy went on dead serious, sendinga glance at Betty who scoffed and turned away.

“Yes, of course, bitching and moaning like a spoiled little school girlfor over half an hour is really mature, Chuck, great job.” To Kevin’s otherside, Cheryl deadpanned while focused on polishing her nails a vibrant red,sending the people around her table in a fit of light giggles that the jocksacross them completely ignored, getting back to their heated conversation.

“This is riveting to watch.” Kevin exclaimed in his usual thrilledvoice, eyes sparkling in excitement. “We are the protagonists of Riverdale’smost vexed debate since 1972; should the north side and the south side beunified? Guys, we are making history!” He squeezed Betty’s thigh as he squealedin delight, his best friend smiling fondly at his over-jubilant reaction.

“Kevin” she giggled, patting his hand on her thigh “they are just goingto attend our school for a month. And only the seniors. I highly doubt thatthis is going to change Riverdale’s entire viewpoint overnight.” The blondespoke softly, like giving a life lesson to a five year old, and the alwayscoiffured on point teenager pouted, before turning back to the others.

“Still something is changing.” He insisted, Betty scoffing in amusementnext to him. “Even if it is just the eye candy around campus.” He faced heragain with his laughing eyes and a sweet grin, making it impossible for her andthe rest of his friends not to chuckle at his bright personality.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day for the town of Riverdale. The seniorstudents of Southside High were going to start attending Riverdale High for thetimespan of a month, after a serious incident with their school’s centuries oldcentral heating that resulted to broken water pipes and flooding classrooms. Upuntil the problem was going to be fixed, mayor McCoy had agreed to the studentstransferring to Riverdale high school, a decision that rose heated controversyamongst the residents of the North.

“Things are not looking very good, guys.” The atmosphere around thetable shifted, as Archie untangled himself from Veronica to lean forward andinform them secretly. “Locker room talk has gone to another level and withChuck practically urging every Bulldog on a vigilante mission I’m not sure everythingis going to run as smoothly as the school board thinks.” The boy shared hisconcerns.

“They are not here to cause problems.” Betty voiced with certainty. “I’vebeen to the South over three months now and everyone is just normal, you know,they are normal people.” Her eyes darted over each one of her friends thatdidn’t look very convinced. “Nice, even.” She threw in exasperation, a certaindark haired guy popping immediately in her mind. To her disappointment, shehadn’t seen much of him after that night, only catching his lean posturebriefly as he dropped by the elementary school to pick up his sister, too muchin a haze for them to even lock eyes through the window. Betty was back to herpessimistic usual self, regarding boys and their lack of attraction towardsher, and for some reason this time it hurt a tad more. It didn’t help that herdaydreams of him were now actual dreams too, heated and intimate, leaving herpanting and in a mess of sweat along with damp lace between her legs eachmorning she would wake up with the thought of him, her fingers tracing her fulllips where she could still feel his sensuous breath from that night that he had sether perfect good girl world in flames with just a brush of his intoxicatingnicotine stained ones.

At the exact moment, the bell over the entrance chimed and everyone’seyes rose in curiosity. All conversations stopped, the atmosphere became eerieand cold. Five young Serpents, the five ones Betty had seen multiple timesduring her volunteering hours, were sauntering menacingly inside the smalldinner, leather jackets shinny under the bright neon lights. They looked angry,threatening, and they were headingtheir way with matching heavy steps and stone cold eyes.

“You were saying?” Kevin murmured in panic next to her but Betty tunedhim out, as everything else around her, around him.

Jughead was at the center of the small squad but this wasn’t thehandsome guy she was fawning over from afar nor the charming boy that made herfeel weak in the knees that single night he almost brushed his lips over herinviting ones. His appearance was disheveled, hair not its usual perfectlyimperfect mess but greasy and dirty, the black S t-shirt he had on ripped andbloody under his Serpent jacket with what seemed like oil and asphalt stains onit, his dark jeans dusty and with a hole on his left knee revealing a big,nasty wound that continued hidden up his thigh. His hands were bawled in tight fistson his sides, knuckles bloody red, and his jaw was set, painfully wrinkled likehe was holding back a threatening to explode volcano, his face stone cold andlittered with a couple of scratches on his left cheek and temple, a bloody cuton his lower lip, a mauve bruise peaking under some sweaty dark waves on hisforehead. What had her turning anxious though, terrified even, was his lifelesseyes, their soothing blue shade vanished and their clever glint traded forsomething else, something darker, that promised war and revenge. Bettyshivered; she didn’t know him, their brief encounter was not enough for her toshape an accurate opinion for his character, but deep down she always thoughtthat under his dark exterior he was hiding a golden soul. Now, that his hostileorbs didn’t even spare her a glance but stayed set on the buffed varsitycaptain, she wasn’t so sure.

“Do you consider yourself a clever guy, Clayton?” the Serpents’ leader growledlow in his throat, standing tall and tense next to the seated boy that ignoredhim, draping casually an arm over the back of his booth.

“That’s not even a question.” Chuck offered him a cocky smirk, winkingat some other jocks across him who chuckled at how pathetic those Serpentswere.

“Yes, you are right.” Jughead let a humorless chuckle, clenching andunclenching his jaw and trying to control his trembling hands.  “Because there are not two options, just plainno.” he leaned forward, palms flat on the table to spat to his face with venom.“You are a fucking brainless son of bitch that doesn’t even have the decency toman up and admit of his actions.” His voice was controlled, steady, and thatmade his tone even more deadly, Betty fidgeting with her key necklace nervouslybehind them.

Her ex sprung to his feet, growling inches away from the raven hairedboy’s fuming face. “Watch how you talk about me, snake.” He narrowed his eyes and Jughead mimicked him with hatred,both panting angrily like two bulls ready for a face off.

“Did you or did you not pick at the brakes of my bike?” The angrySerpent punctuated every single word sternly, between pants and heavy breaths,really trying to control the boiling lava in his chest. Everyone around themwas holding their breaths, Betty sharing a nervous side glance with Archie.

“Welcome to the neighborhood, pal.” Chuck chuckled darkly and the blondegirl gasped, her mind not being able to even grasp how he could do somethinglike that. She always knew he was an asshole but never imagined he would stoopto that level. Betty’s green orbs darkened with rage too.

Jughead huffed, closing his eyes and trying not to lose it, animpossible task since all he could see was red. “I will fucking crash you” he spat murderously “I promise you, this is thelast time you get to joke around with your buddies while playing with any ofour lives.” His voice reached a higher octave, sealing his promise with agravely look and turning to walk away, not trusting himself with beingcivilized anymore and hating indulging into any form of violence.

“Guess I should have cut those breaks off completely.” He heard behindhim Chuck and his teammates erupt in loud laughter, some hi-fiving their leaderin delight.

Jughead stopped dead in his tracks and huffed in fuming rage, lickinghis lips slowly, teeth itching to draw blood. In one swift movement, Chuckcollided with the wall with a loud and painful thud that had the other Bulldogsspring to their feet and the rest of the Serpents lashing forward in warning,both sides ready to assist their leaders, Jughead’s hands fisting the otherboy’s letterman jacket and his irate face being inches away from his as he spatwith venom.

“You may not give a damn about me and, trust me, the feeling is mutual”his eyes were seeking to burn him alive under their furious stare “but rightnow there’s a terrified eleven year old, banished from your precious expensivehospital and with an ugly cast around her throat, that could have been killedinstantly if her head landed a few inches closer to the pavement.” Veronica andCheryl gasped in horror, Kevin brought a hand to his mouth in shock andArchie’s murmured “Jesus, Chuck” wasin utter disgust. Betty could feel her chest tightening, her lips in a thin lineas she was shooting daggers to the prick she used to call her boyfriend, nailsurging to pierce the skin of her palms in frustration and then claw his eyesout with her bloody fingers.  “So, shoveyour cocky remarks up your ass and don’t push me today or, so help me God, I willend your football career in a fucking blink.” His wrath was lethal, the boneson his jawline flexing in a way that screamed danger and Chuck had hopefullythe good sense just to shove him hard backwards, freeing himself.

“Go back to mud, Jones.” He yelled and nodded towards the door. “Otherwise,this is only the beginning.”

Jughead’s trembling fingers took hold of a beer bottle from the jocks’table. The glass crashed against the wall violently, inches away from thequarterback’s face who ducked expertly to avoid it, the teens around themletting a panicky shriek at the cracking sound.

“Hey!” Pop emerged from the kitchen, before things would escaladefurther. “If you wanna resolve your differences, you do it out of my shop. Orelse I’m calling the police.” The elder man warned, far from his usualkind-hearted demeanor, and Jughead raised his arms in surrender, beforestriding in angry swagger out of the diner, his gang members following behindhim while throwing deadly looks to the Bulldogs that started barking inhostility.

Betty didn’t even think twice as she flew out of the booth and stompeddetermined behind them, completely ignoring the confused looks from herclassmates.

“Wait!” she shouted once outside, ankle boots clicking stubbornly andsparkly eyes trained upon the back of Jughead’s head, his raven waves fallingto the side as he turned sharply at her loud call. He frowned at her, deeplines painting the middle of his forehead but stilled his movements, giving anod to his friends to go ahead without him. They complied, sending some weirdlooks to the blonde that came to a halt in front of their leader, before movingfurther away to wait for him next to their bikes.

“Chuck is the asshole.” She spoke in fury, her own fists now clenched ather sides. “Why are you the one leaving?” she demanded, tilting her chin up,fed up with how unfair the situation was.

Jughead huffed in fake amusement at her silly words, looking over herhead where her friends and his rivals were watching them closely through thediner’s windows. “I’m not welcomed here. Nor will I ever find my right heretoo.” He made a face in clever arrogance.

Betty’s gaze dropped to his appearance, concern coloring her voice. “Isyour sister okay? Do you need help?”

“Thanks, but we had enough of all of you.” The guy offered in bittersarcasm.

“You’re hurt too.” She pointed out with a heavy heart, the pads of herfingertips instinctively touching the corner of his mouth next to the deepwound there.

Jughead was taken aback by the move, his own hand grabbing her wrist inreflex, a little more forcefully than intended, not being familiar withaltruistic gestures of affection. His rough action caused her to stumbleforward, letting an audible gasp of shock at the close proximity and the heatradiating from his hard body and tempered mood. Betty felt electricity shootingthrough her veins as their eyes connected for the first time, his stormy andhers gentle, and her lips parted on their own accord, driven by the force thatwas always there between them. From up close she could see clearly the resultsof the accident, not only the physical ones but the ones imprinted in his soul,his terrified agony about his sister, his guilt that if something would havehappened to her it was all his fault. A sigh trembled against her lips, warminghis nicotine laced ones.

He wanted to kiss her again, even more than he did that night that sheinvaded his world of darkness and highlighted it with splashes of lush golden. Buthe was angry at the world they were living in, at the assholes of her kind, atthe assholes of his, at his own self, at her, at her crystal clear eyes thathad the ability to pierce right through his tortured soul. He couldn’t handlethe intensity of the moment so he took a step back, dropping her arm as violentlyas he had taken hold of it. It fell numbly to her side, the girl blinkingrapidly to regain her calm and steady her ferociously beating heart.

“I can manage.” He replied coldly, the small patch of skin that brieflystayed under the softness of her fingertips still burning.

Betty curled her arms over her chest, trying to hold her body fromshaking under the force of his presence, before whispering in horror. “What hedid is attempted homicide. You should go to the police.” She advised him seriously,eyes pleading and voice almost breaking at the weight of her words and the whatif behind them.

“Right…” Jughead scoffed, running his fingers through his hair. “And whodo you think objective and unprejudiced Sheriff Keller will believe?”his tone and choice of adjectives oozed dark sarcasm, eyes narrowing venomouslyupon continuing with the hard truth.  “Thelost cause of a guy from the wrong side of the tracks or your precious goldenboy? Hm? Answer me.” He challenged, board shoulders hunched in a desperatemanor as he towered over her, moving some threatening inches closer again, amix of desire and anger making him want to push her to the nearest wall andravish her in the roughest of ways.

Betty’s strong will wavered under his imposing posture, eyes dropping tothe small distance between them and the bloody stains of his t-shirt, a sightrembling on her lips at the way he was invading her personal space andconquering more and more ground. “You are not a lost cause.” She breathed in a steadfastwhisper. “You have witnesses, I can come with too, I’m sure my friends will alsoagree to help—” she started brainstorming but he cut her off, his bony, bloodand mud stained fingers grabbing a strong hold of the soft cashmere sweater onher shoulders, leaving a mark to contradict its white purity.

“I am not one of those polished, preppy boys you hang out with, youunderstand that?” Jughead raised his voice, highlighting the words with enoughrage that shocked her, her body shaking like a rug doll under his grip. “I’m abad guy and bad guys deal with their businesses on their own, the way they wereraised with.” He spoke inches away from her lips and Betty could almost tastethe bitterness in her own mouth, her eyes filling with fat, sullen tears at thecoldness of his tone and the pools of blue that felt icier than ever. He shouldhave felt bad at being responsible for shadowing the most beautiful pair ofeyes he had ever seen in his life, and a part of him did broke at the sight, but he wouldn’tshow it, he couldn’t get attached. Dark necessities were part of his design,she wouldn’t understand. “So save me your good girl musings and let me be. Goback to your pastel world, Cooper. This is reality.”

And with that he was gone, Betty stumbling back as he freed her from himwith force, watching him behind a blurry cloud of tears while he hopped onReggie’s bike without sparing her a second glance. The engine accelerated witha roar, a roar that matched the painfully breaking of her heart and Bettyremembered why she didn’t believe in fairytales after all.

Did you hear?

Those Serpents are dangerous!

Something happened yesterday at Pop’s.

I bet they started it.

Chuck didn’t say a word.

Clayton almost killed him.

Maybe that Serpent was worth it.

Maybe we all need to stop.

“Small town likes its drama, huh?” Veronica hummed around her paper cupof her coffee, pushing the passenger door of Betty’s white Mini Cooper closedwith her hip, and taking a seat on its shinny hood as her best friend gatheredher school stuff for the day. The city girl, even though living in Riverdalefor two years now, couldn’t still get used to this mentality of petty gossipand ugly prying, her chocolate eyes watching in disgust the teens around hergathered in small circles, being all hush-hush and curiously looking her andBetty’s way.

“Ignore them, it never goes away.” The blonde sighed, locking herparents’ early gift for her seventeenth birthday, and coming over to join herwhile perching her backpack on her shoulder. She knew the incident at Pop’syesterday would be front page material for their school community; there wasnothing new about that and she didn’t care. Not when she still had a heavyheart and an ugly knot in her chest caused by the Serpent’s stone cold eyesthat haunted her.

“Are you okay, B?” her best friend asked in concern, perfect eyebrowsknitting together.

“Yeah, yeah, just tired. Stayed up late for a history paper.” She liedexpertly, plastering a fake smile on her glossy lips.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Veronica Lodge isnever judgy.” she went on playing indifference and taking another sip of herlatte. “Not when it comes to hot boys, at least…” she sent her a glare over herbrown cup.

Betty just raised an eyebrow, faking ignorance.

“Oh don’t play dumb with me, Betty Cooper.” Veronica scolded her with aswat of her perfect manicured fingers. “That smokeshow of a Serpent, the darkhaired, Holden Caulfield one…” she nudged the side of her calf with the tip ofher designer heel, giggling around the words in girly delight. “Come on B, Isaw the way you two were looking at each other. Or should I say practicallyundressing each other?” she smirked naughtily.

“That’s nothing!” Betty’s signature blush colored her whole face and thebrunette gasped in excitement, ready for more juicy details. “That’s—” she wenton to clarify that nothing had happened between them but her eyes caught Kevinand Cheryl practically sprinting to join them, both flustered, and she grabbedVeronica’s arm in alarm. “Don’t say anything just—hey, guys!” she chipped incheerfully, relieved that the other girl got the message and turned to greetthem too with a happy smile.

However, none of them was interested in polite pleasantries. “They arecoming.” Kevin said with difficulty, panting like he had ran a marathon withCheryl next to him nodding vigorously with wide, intrigued eyes. Betty frownedin confusion. “With bikes and leather, emerging from a cloud of gas smoke.They. Are. Coming.” He pointed out every word with fascination, grabbing hisfriend by the shoulders and turning her suddenly to the direction of theschool’s driveway right on time as loud motorcycle engines could be heardapproaching.

It was like those slow motion scenes in action movies. Amongst grey gassmoke, five beasty motorcycles in a triangle formation shined under the gloomymorning glow, their black color polished and threatening imposing and theirsilver details on the sides glistering like sharp blades of lethal weapons. Thefive riders were hidden behind black futuristic helmets that gave them an airof mysterious danger, all of them dark, brash, like avenging fallen angels inall their black attire glory and their matching snake jackets as a proud war symbolover their muscular shoulders. Only one was standing out from the others, thefirst one at the top of their pyramid, as a bloody red plaid shirt was hangingfrom his hips, swaying like a red flag against the wind provocatively. Evenwithout it, Betty knew that behind the helmet it was him, guiding his people to the path of victory.

Everyone was looking at the spectacular show mesmerized, like time hadstopped and all hell had broken lose, sending its devils on hot wheels to giveanother meaning to the definition of sin. Three of the bikes speeded in frontdoing an impressive wheelie whereas the other two, Jughead’s and the one on itsright that Betty guessed it was Reggie’s, drove in a deadly circle before theystarted drifting around each other, creating a heavy cloud of smoke and aroaring commotion of complaining engines, tires getting burnt against theasphalt with chill rising squealing. Kevin let a breathy yes of excitement, whereas the girls around him simultaneouslydropped their heads to the left, mouths agape, lightheaded and shocked by theshow. The two motorbikes came to an abrupt, violent but controlled halt thatmade Betty jump out of her sexual haze, as Jughead, still on the bike, took offhis helmet and shook his dark mane in manly fashion, before running a handcovered with a fingerless leather glove over his hair, trying to soothe backhis messy waves. Betty caught herself biting her lip, too hooked and turned onto even blink, her anger and disappointment at him and his tone last nightmagically vanishing.

“Well, hello Mr. Ride Me Good.” Cheryl’s sultry purr made Betty snap outof her daze and squirm awkwardly on her place, toying with her key necklace andtrying to control her heating body and raging hormones. Something that Cheryldidn’t even bother with, since she was openly eye-sexing the Serpent leader, afiery red lock getting twirled around her manicured fingers and a sly smirkcurling her matching full lips.

“Damn, this bad boy got moves, right B?” Veronica mused, dragging hereyes from the guy in question to land them teasingly on her best friend. Bettyjust gulped, green orbs practically glued on him, as he manly high-fived Reggieand hopped off his bike, draping a brown messenger bag over his shoulder.  

“Down, girl.” Cheryl demanded, throwing a side glance to the brunettebehind her. “You can look at the menu all you want but you have your own gingerstallion to ride to oblivion.” She scolded her and Veronica gasped a chuckle infake offence. “This black tiger is mine.”

Betty felt a hint of jealously at the comment but it didn’t last long asshe got distracted again by the guy at the front of the Serpent squad that wasnow making its way to the school entrance. Walking with a sex-oozingconfidence, red flannel swinging on his sides, shoulders rolled back proudly,raven locks over his eyes and the marks of yesterday’s accident still evidenton his face like battle scars, he turned swiftly to the side and connected hiseyes with hers, soothing blue this time and cleverly agile just like she liked,sending her one of his charming winks that she had terribly missed, beforeturning his attention back to his friends and disappearing inside the building.

“Elizabeth Anne Cooper, didyou see that?!” Kevin’s elated gasp next to her ear startled her, the boyshaking her arm in glee at the promiscuous interaction he had just witnessed,his female friend trying to calm her dizzy head and fluttering heart.

“That’s unfair!” Cheryl exclaimed loudly. “How is Betty always stealingthe good ones?” she turned to face them, hands thrown in exasperation. “Minus,Chuck; Chuck is a mega asshole.” She went to clarify with a bitchy shrug.

Kevin came to stand next to her, placing a finger on his chin in thoughwhile examining the blonde. “The good girl vibe? The doe eyes? The shy in thestreets, sexy in the sheets smile maybe?” He listed in a thrilled tone ofvoice, spending suspense around the idea of solving the riddle that was BettyCooper.

The girl in question rolled her eyes, letting a breathy chuckle. “He isjust a cocky gang member. I’m sure he meant nothing by it.” She shrugged likeshe didn’t care at all, even though she could practically feel her bloodpumping in her veins fueled by adrenaline. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, some ofus have an honor roll academic career that would like to maintain.” She threwin a fake stuck-up tone, teasing them and offering them a cute pretentiousgirly wave before turning to drag her feet lazily to Biology class.

“Low blow, Cooper!” Betty heard Cheryl shout from behind her. “Add tenmore squats for you on today’s cheerleading practice!” she turned and took hertongue out at her, laughing when she saw the redhead giving her the fingerbefore giggling too.

Betty’s happy smile stayed on her lips until she reached her first classof the day. Barely taking two steps inside, her palms became sweaty again asshe spotted Jughead and three of his friends at the back of the classroom,childishly playing with the skeleton model at the corner, ignoring the staresfrom the rest of the students around them. Betty made it to her seat, aware ofJughead’s eyes on her, but didn’t raise her head to acknowledge him, notwanting to appear like a girl that could turn into putty with just one of hissilly boyish games. Even though she totally was.

The teacher came soon after, students scrambled around to get to theirseats, and a pack of red Marlboro dropped on her desk and startled her, Bettysnapping her head up in question and catching him smirking at her whiledropping on an empty desk further to her left. She raised an eyebrow,delicately taking hold of the empty packet and bringing her hands to rest onher lap to shield the unexpected gift from any prying eyes. On the lid “open me” was written in black neathandwriting that surprised her and Betty did so intrigued, only to find a smallpiece of paper and a single cigarette. Unfolding the paper, she read:

“I’m sorry about yesterday. Meangry is not a walk in the park. I snapped at you with no reason when all youwanted was to help. I’m an asshole, I know this much. But as I later understood”there was an arrow pointing to the cigarette before the rest of the words were inbrackets “(this lone bad guy in the abyssof the empty packet represents me perfectly and will explain everything betterthan I ever will)” Betty grimaced to hide the smile that was threatening tocurl on her lips at his charismatic self, as her slender fingers pulled out thewhite roll, now littered with black handwriting all around too “I have grown another vice than smoking andthat is pretty blondes with sweet eyes and a sharp tongue. So, for the sake ofmy addicted self, can you offer me the smile you’ve been saving for me?”There was a tiny smiley face at the end and this did it, it brought a big andlovesick smile on her face, Betty biting her lip at his actions and the way he wasmaking her feel. Sure, they would have more to talk about but this was a nicefirst move from his part for reconciliation.

“Oh no, I’m not having you all gathered at one side.” Mrs. Porter’svoice pierced through her ears and Betty focused her eyes up to see what thedeal was about, the teacher talking to the Serpents that were all paired uptogether in one row. “New students mingle with the old ones, I want diversitypairs.”

Betty gathered her stuff and swiftly plopped into the seat next toJughead, the boy looking at her with a surprised smirk.

“What?” she huffed incredulously. “You are an jackass” he bounced hishead back in amusement at her curse word while she shrugged “but I’m forgivingso…” she turned to him and sighed before curling her lips in the most dashing,purely authentic Betty Cooper smile. Jughead nodded in understanding, a faintblush creeping on his cheekbones, taking his pen and writing something on heropened notebook.

What a deadly vice you are, Cooper.

“I’m starting a newspaper.”

Spotless white sneakers slid on the cement ground next to him andJughead smirked as he looked up from his slouching position near earth level. Bendedknees in a low squat and face to face with the silver exhaust pipe of his bike,he was ceremoniously dusting it and checking its condition at the parking lotof Riverdale High at a rather warm morning in the north side of town. However,every ounce of concentration over his task at hand vanished into thin air themoment that specific pair of long, killer legs appeared on his peripheralvision. Betty sex-on-legs Cooper.

“I thought your folks had one.” He addressed her, squinting under therich sunrays that created a halo of golden light around her ethereal beauty.She was leaning at the seat of the bike, the dark leather being complimented bythe porcelain skin of her toned thighs as the hem of her brown skirt had risenfrom its modest place a little under her mid-thigh, her left leg bended by theknee and both of them looking like going for miles from the angle he was openlychecking them out. Involuntarily, he licked his lips around his never fading naughtysmirk.

“I’m not talking about a town newspaper, Juggie.” Betty giggled lightly.“I’m starting a kids’ newspaper, at Southside Elementary.” She clarified,straightening up her shoulders proudly.

“Because…?” he dragged the word in confusion, raising his eyebrowsadorably.

“The children I’m helping are getting better and better at reading andwriting but stale learning is gonna turn boring and ineffective in the longrun. So they need something fun and creative to spike their interest andhopefully improve their literary skills even more.” She was speaking withpassion, loving the idea and loving those kids even more. Jughead couldn’t helpbut form a wide grin at her incredible drive and will to contribute in the bestway she could.

“Sounds good, I guess.” Nodding happily up to her, he saw her biting herlip not to break into the biggest smile in the history of smiles.

“It is. It’s innovative and I’m excited.” Her attempt was a lost battleto begin with and she finally beamed down at him. “I talked to the principal,he agrees and he even told me that maybe this will turn into a monthly schoolthing, if the trial is successful.” She gasped in genuine enthusiasm, wigglingher legs lightly while letting a cute little squeal of triumph.

Jughead chuckled; he couldn’t really help himself. “I’m sure it will.Those menaces practically adore you. And I don’t really blame them.”

He winked at her, she nudged her cheek adorably against her shoulder ingirly shyness, biting back a smile. Two weeks had passed since the Serpents startedattending Riverdale High and those two weeks were the best of both theiracademic years. They were lab partners, book club buddies and writingenthusiasts and every day they were growing closer and closer. They were innickname basis; at least Betty was. And she was always Cooper for him. Bettyhad taken a sudden weird liking in her surname and how couldn’t she? Rollingout of his tongue, it was simultaneously the most sacred and sinful thing shehad ever heard.

“Whatcha working on?” she lightly tapped his knee with the side of hersneaker, him wiping his greasy fingers on the rug he was holding before raisingto his full height, eyes following the route of her smooth legs as he did so.That naughty smirked trembled again on his chapped lips.

“Nothing really.” He sighed, abandoning the dirty rug to the side. “Ikeep hearing those tiny metallic noises, I guess I’ll have to check this beautywith Mongoose over at the garage later.” he informed her casually, Bettyknowing pretty much everything about his world at this point, grabbing hold ofhis bag and his leather jacket that were lying next to her on the sponge seat. Hehad a delicious form-fitting ash grey V neck t-shirt on and Betty actually dida subtly double take of his biceps and hard chest with lustful eyes.

“I can take a look if you want.” She said more focused on his bodymuscles than his face, feeling heat creeping up her already rosy cheeks. Uponmoving her disorientated stare back to his witty blue orbs with difficulty andseeing him sending her an amused questioning glare, she went on to explainmatter-of-factly. “My dad and I fix cars together.”

Jughead grimaced in appreciation, draping his jacket over his shoulderin manly fashion. “I’ve never thought you were a greaser kind of girl.” Hisflirty tone, a tone that he usually used around Betty Cooper, started coloringthe edges of his words again, a lopsided smirk of boyish swagger playing on hislips.

Betty bit her lip, eyes shining in playful banter. “Oh, that’s whenyou’re wrong, Jughead Jones.” She shook her head in amusement. “I’m not afraidto get a little dirty sometimes.” Her voice dropped an octave without herplanning to do so and she instinctively leaned forward, green eyes sending hima faux innocent glare under thick eyelashes.

He stepped closer too, smirk intact and the pads of fingertips brushedever so lightly over the hem of her skirt against her thigh, clearly enjoyingthe view. “I like the skirt today, Cooper.” His eyes connected with hers, theirheavy breaths mingling as she tilted her head up, craving more of his presence,more of his touch.

“Well, I can lend it to you sometime if you want.” Betty teased himcleverly, face deadpanned and head angling as she eyed his lips.

“Funny.” He let a breathy chuckle at her dorkiness, bringing his otherhand to play with the hem of her mustard shirt that had fallen over hershoulder, revealing a burgundy lacey bra strap against her prominent collarbone.“But wearing it is not part of my plan.” His lips were inches away from hers,Betty almost whimpering at the close proximity. “For either of us.” He teasedback in a low voice and the blonde swore her bare thighs clenched involuntarilyat his dark tone and full of promises innuendos in a desperate need to makethat boy hers now more than ever.

She felt the bra strap snap with sound against her sensitive skin. Butit wasn’t by his delicate fingers and suddenly, there was someone else’s breathat the swell of her ear. Betty snapped violently back to reality, literallyjumping on her seat.

“Nice one, Betts. Raunchy.” Chuck appeared out of nowhere with avenomous smirk and mood set for trouble, looking between the two teens thatwere caught in an intimate moment seconds ago. Jughead stiffened against her indefense.

“Get off me, Chuck!” She pushed him away by his shoulder, grimace ofutter disgust in her face. “And don’t call me that.” She warned with fury inher eyes.

“I’m just appreciating the change in wardrobe.” He shrugged in astandoffish manner. “Pink was not really your color.” Curling his arms over hisbuff chest, his coal eyes roamed over her body in a way that always made herfeel uncomfortable.

Betty’s glare at him turned cold as ice. “We both know that you neversaw anything.”

“Well, maybe this is a subtle plea for me to do so this time. I’m alwaysup for it, babe. All you have to do is ask.” The varsity captain exclaimed witha grand hand gesture, relishing in the fake status points his letterman jacketwas offering him.

“This is over, Chuck. I ended it.” The blonde girl pointed out bravely. “Howmany times do I have to remind you that I broke up with you?” she threw to hisface, doe eyes narrowing menacingly and nails digging in the leather of theseat she was resting on, trying to control her anger.

Chuck returned her hostile glare. “Yeah, and look where that decisiongot you.” He whispered, mean and bitter, leaning forward to bring his faceinches away from hers. “Turning into nothing more than a Southside slut.” He spat each word with hatred, the insult at theend accompanied by one of his cold and presumptuous side smirks.

Betty didn’t get the chance to reply. Jughead, that all this time was inthe background engaged in a battle of control with his boiling range, lashedforward, his fist colliding hard with Chuck’s jaw with an audible sound of bonesbreaking. His blasphemous words made him see red, sending the jock flying tothe ground and jumping over him, straddling his abdomen as he started throwingpunch after punch on his face. Betty was screaming for them to stop, peoplewere starting to gather around murmuring and snapping pictures and Archie withReggie rushed through the crowd to get Jughead off the laying boy, only forboth of them to be shoved back angrily by the blinded with rage raven hairedguy as he kept beating the crap out of his rival, crackling bones brutally andteaching him a good lesson for disgracing the perfection that was Betty Cooper.

“Hey! HEY!” the principal’s voice echoed loudly, as he quickly emergeddown the stairs and to the crowd of people in the middle of the parking lot. Grabbingthe Serpent’s shoulder, he detached him violently from Chuck that sprung to hisfeet in a bloody mess. “Mr. Jones, in my office now!” Weatherbee shouted to theboy with the blood stained knuckles and angrily panting chest.

“What?!” Betty snapped, stepping between the principal and the defenderof her honor. “Jughead didn’t do anything wrong! Chuck was the one sexuallyharassing me!” she exclaimed urgently.

“Jones lashed out on me, I was in self-defense.” Chuck hollered, likethe spoilt brat he was.

“Mr. Jones, with me.” The principal insisted.

The disheveled raven haired guy let a dark chuckle, curtly brushing histhump over his lower lip, wiping the blood there. “No need. I’m perfectly awareof the verdict.” He took some smoldering steps backwards, sending anapologizing and sullen glance to Betty, before turning around to walk away withheavy, fuming footsteps.

“Detention for the whole week, Mr. Jones!” the elder man in chargeshouted over his back. “I’ll see you after class.”

“This is ridiculous!” Betty complained in a high-pitched voice. “Chuckis walking around disrespecting girls and you are going to completely ignore itbecause what? He is the coach’s son?” she was starting to get furious herselfnow, demanding equality and justice for the wrongly punished boy.

“Ms. Cooper, I advise you to lower your voice and watch your tone, ifyou don’t want to face the same fate as Mr. Jones.” Weatherbee warned her withstern eyes behind his glasses.

“Brilliant!” the teen huffed. “Should I stay silent while being treatedwith misogyny? Is that what you’re implying here, Mr. Weatherbee?” she narrowedher pretty eyes at him incredulously, always ready to fight for her rights.

The principal sighed, turning to the other party of the argument. “Mr.Clayton, care to explain yourself?”

“I was just pointing out how Betty’s shirt was way too low on hershoulders for school grounds.” Now supplied with some paper towels, her explayed the golden boy card, looking her straight in the eyes. “Can you blame usthen if we get distracted and tempted, sir?” He ended his sexist statement witha cocky smirk and the girl actually lashed forward to attack him with a lowgrowl, only for the principal to block her view.

“That’s enough, Mr. Clayton.” He cut him off, wanting to relieve thetension. “Ms. Cooper, I would like you to put on your jacket or change into adifferent shirt.” He suggested in his authoritative voice again.

“What?! This is absurd!” Betty resented, eyebrows knitted together in apainful frown, hands bawled to her sides in fists and trembling from anger.

“You know we have a policy regarding wardrobe that is offensive orprofane. And any student should respect that policy.” He reprimanded her.

“I’m wearing a mini skirt and you are telling me that a patch of skin aroundmy collarbone along with a bra strap is tantalizing the male popularity?” she almostyelled in disbelief and at how ludicrous all these sounded.

“The length of your skirt is approved by the school’s dress code. Thehint of undergarment is not.” Conservative and narrow-minded, the elder manrecited as if reading straight out of the school’s protocol charter.

“Well, it’s not my fault my male classmates are that stupid to not know thatunder my shirt were actual female breasts, before I came to school sporting avisible bra strap.” Betty deadpanned, holding her ground proudly with fierygreen eyes, sending the students around her in a unified fit of shocked gasps.

“Ms. Cooper!” principal Weatherbee hissed in offence. “Show somemodesty! You either change the shirt or you are gaining detention. For amonth.” He gave her an ultimatum in a strict, warning tone of voice.

“You want me to lose the shirt?” the teen challenged, feeling her handsclench in fists at the curt nod of the man in charge of their school community.“Fine.” She shrugged casually and with one swift movement she crossed her handsat the hem of her shirt, taking it off her body and throwing it to the ground next to the bewildered principal, a wave of camera flashes and disbelievingbuzzing rising around them.

“How’s this for modesty?” Chin up and shoulders rolled back proudly,showing off her bra and her nature that she was supposed to be ashamed for, Betty’sdetermination didn’t faze under Weatherbee’s furious stare or her classmates’murmurs of disapproval and scrutiny.

“Don’t bother showing up here again for a week, Ms. Cooper. You’re suspended.”He shouted in his usual authoritative tone of voice, completely appalled fromthe behavior of one of the school’s star students.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning to. Indulging in a chauvinistic and racistenvironment is something I’m better off.” Grabbing Jughead’s Serpent jacketthat was long forgotten on the ground and throwing it over her topless torsocontemptuously, she grabbed both their bags and followed his trail away fromthe crowd, mentally flicking her middle finger to the narrow-minded mentalitythat was Riverdale.  

Jughead watched as his fingers drummed over the beige plastic incoordination with the torturous ticking of the wall clock over the white board.The book he was pretending to read, even though his favorite, was proving to bea rather unsuccessful form of distraction from the dullness of the emptyclassroom and his still turbulent level of anger. With long limps crossed atthe ankles and sprawled under the desk he occupied at the further back of theroom, the raven haired troublemaker was hiding behind the hard copy of hisbook, thankful that at least Weatherbee was occupying himself with somepaperwork and not holding him under his scrutinizing and accusatory gaze. Thatdidn’t mean he felt less uneasy with the situation; getting detention becauseof an illiterate dumbass like Chuck Clayton was the epitome of wasting time. Thereason behind his outburst though, in the form of a blonde, doe eyed vision,was making him wonder why he wasn’t still there at the hallway breaking a fewmore bones of his in sweet revenge.

Weatherbee announced that he needed some files from his office. Jugheadexhaled the deep breath he was holding as the door closed behind the elder manwith a soft click. However, he once again sucked in a breath when it re-openedand in sneaked no else than Betty Cooper, sporting her most persuasive coyexpression and his own Serpent jacket. His eyes almost rolled at the back ofhis head at the sight.

“I thought I’ve lost that by now.” Sliding up to sit more straight onthe uncomfortable wooden chair, Jughead’s lips formed a sly smile feelingexcitement coil low in his stomach and even an involuntary twitch inside hisskinny jeans. She looked utterly sinful, cheeks rosy and lips prettily pink asalways, her perfect ponytail disheveled and the black leather adorningher tiny form. It was zipped up a little over her breasts, the material curvingdeliciously over her spectacular female anatomy, and it fell over her hips, thehem of her skirt barely visible over his favorite view, those miles-long legs. TheSerpent could feel his mouth going dry instantly, as she approached.

“Well, good for you, I’m a neat freak.” She threw him a cheerful BettyCooper smile and shook an arm in a dorky fashion, her hand buried inside thelong sleeve, making him chuckle lightly. As soon as their eyes connected though,the atmosphere shifted.

“Please tell me you didn’t get detention too.” He raised an eyebrow inquestion, examining her as she rounded the desk to rest at the edge of it,facing him.

“Well, I got it worse.” Betty shrugged matter-of-factly. “I’m suspendedfor a week.”

Jughead huffed in disbelief. “Because of the prick, Clayton?” he wasstarting to get worked up again.

The blonde shook her head, focusing her round eyes on his knuckles,covered in dry blood now, on his lap. “Because Weatherbee wanted me to take offmy shirt, claiming that it was too distracting for my male classmates.” Shegrimaced at the accusation, words coming out in scoffs at how ridiculous thestatement was. “So I did” she shrugged again “and threw it to his face.” a badass smile started creeping at the edge of her lips and she raised her head to face him, feeling her heart flutter at the heated look of appreciation and male intrigue he was giving her.

“Damn, Cooper” he gasped, teeth chewing on his bottom lip “I wish I could have seen that.” Images of her stripping to her bra in the middle of the school parking lot filled his brain and the primal side of his subconcious cursed him from getting caught up with the Clayton crap and missing such spectacular view. But then he struck him that now, at that very moment, she was naked under his jacket, the jacket that he was sure would be soaked in her scent of jasmine and female delicacy, and his fingers gripped the denim material on his thighs to anchor himself and not lash forward in a frenzy to make her his. 

What he couldn’t control was his stare, filled with sexual promises and undertones, that she noticed and blushed prettily under, dropping her eyes shyly to watch her fingers picking at the hem of the leather jacket wrapped around her. Jughead wanted desperately to find out where this natural redness began and where it ended, which parts of her body were scarlet red, rosy, blush and all the rest of the palette of her colors.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me against him.” She went on in a lower voice, changing the subject. “He is a brainlessfuckboy; his insults don’t affect me anymore.” The time when Betty was behaving like a giddy school girl for the attention of the Bulldogs’ captain was long before gone, as well as her tears at his classic bastard behavior during their short-lived fling.

Jughead shrugged, trying to appear aloof and standoffish. “I wasn’t raised to be an idle onlooker. We protect and respect women;it’s a Serpent thing.” It truly was, there was a high morality amongst their clan regarding the protection of women and children.

“No” Betty shook her head, sending him a timid, grateful smile “it’s a Jughead Jones thing.”

“Maybe so.” The smirk that danced over his thin lips was borderline adorable before he turned serious again, blue orbs searching for something on her stunningly beautiful face. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” he finally said this thoughts out loud, his tone of voice turning softer, like the cashmere or silk he was sure always adorned her feminine curves.

Betty’s perfect eyebrows knitted in a heartbreaking fashion, the girl sliding over the desk and closer to him, the side of her calf brushing the side of his knee. “I’m never scared of you.” She promised him truthfully, only admiration and longing intensifying the shade of her green irises. The irises that dropped to his lips, spotting the wound there and worrying about it. “Your scar has opened up.” It was more a whisper of desire than a concerned statement, as she instinctively bent down at him, leaning forward, lips once again inches away from his parted and inviting ones.

“Cooper…” he dragged her surname in a low manly breath, his own eyes dropping to her mouth and the rosy tongue he so badly wanted to graze with his teeth and suck in the abyss of his mouth.

“Jones…” she returned his tone, moving an inch closer.

“You’re playing with fire.” his tone held a subtle warning, an undermined threat, a good girls get burnt by bad boys like him kind of message.

She got the insinuation. And she leaned even closer, lips dancing against his as she sighed in insatiable hunger.

“Good. Burn me alive.”

He didn’t need more encouragement after that. In a swift movement thatsucked the air out of her lungs, Jughead moved forward with an almost painful growl, taking hold of hercheeks and claiming her luscious lips, raw and demanding, drawing a shockedgasp out of them. The force of the movement made her lean backwards, fingersgripping his t-shirt at the sides of his waist, his sinful mouth coaxing hersopen, demanding more, demanding entrance. She granted it of course and histongue invaded the hotness of her mouth with a big exhale of oxygen in the formof a male hiss of appreciation and anticipationthat travelled to all hernerve-endings instantly, causing electricity to shoot through her veins. Astrong arm curled around her waist and lifted her up effortless, Betty’ssurprise squeal rolling from her tongue to his, as the two muscles twirled in awet hurricane of lust, him hoisting her on the desk with a loud thud andsettling between her legs, dropping his hands on her hips and sliding them overthe plastic surface while jerking his own in perfect coordination, her skirtgetting wrinkled between them.

There was a sizeable bulge against the skimpy lace of her panties andBetty dropped her head back at the contact, breaking their kiss to let a filthymoan as his teeth closed around her chin, lips trembling against her flesh in awanton groan at the heat and wetness against the front of his pants. Herfingers twirled the front of his t-shirt, effectively pulling him flat againsther, as he started littering her smooth neck with open mouthed kisses and wet,bruising sucks, her left leg hitching over his side, the heel of her sneakerurging him to grind harder and firmer against her dripping wet center, and herother curling around his knee, keeping him captive between her thighs, aprisoner at her mercy. He was leaving dirty sighs and heavy breaths against thesensitive skin of her collarbone, biting and nibbling and creating love bites ofall shapes and sizes, and Betty was losing her mind, letting high-pitched sighsand moans at a need that she never felt before, an insane urge to rip hisclothes and demand for him to ride her fast and dirty, treat her like his precious, roaringmotorbike.

“I wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you through thatwindow.” His tongue licked a trail from the dip of her collarbone to her ear,biting the earlobe before growling the words in a whisper and circling his harderection against the place she needed him the most. “You are the most exquisitevision I’ve ever seen in my life.” His hand pulled at her ponytail to suckviolently just under her jawline, Betty writhing and gasping under him, archingher chest against his fingers that were now playing with the zipper of his Serpentjacket.

“I’ve never been this crazy for a guy before.” She whined pathetically, tightening even more the hold of her leg around his hip, feelingher whole body shiver under his skillful ministrations and dominant nature.His bony fingers curled around her chin, forcing her to look at him, as hisother hand started lowering the zipper torturously slow, both their chestspanting hard and their eyes darkening more and more with lust but never backingfrom their passionate stare off. Jughead was the first one to declare defeat asthe leather outerwear loosened around her breasts, him licking his lips at thesight of the two mounts, round, firm and heaving, pushed up mouthwateringly andwrapped in sexy dark burgundy lace for his eyes only.

“God, you’re so sexy.” He hissed sensually, bouncing his head back towatch his large hands caress from the shoulders to her sternum, over herbreasts, her ribs until they settled firmly on her prominent hipbones, Bettyarching under his touch, head rolling heavily side to side as low erotic sighswere leaving her open in wonder lips. His chapped lips came to kiss the topof her right breast and she mewled, then his teeth pulled the flesh at thecurve of the other, right next to the cute little bow at the middle of her bra,making her gasp and buck her hips towards his rolling ones, before he movedfurther down, leaving wet kisses on her flexing stomach, her ribs, her navelthat had her moaning low in her violently rising and falling chest and grippinga fistful of his tantalizing raven waves for dear life.

The ultimate destination was her left hip, Jughead smirking against thebaby blue lacey thong that the misplaced on her waist skirt revealed, before curling hisfingers around it and pushing aside the material for his mouth to linger, partedand watering, against her hipbone. Betty’s eyes snapped open, their green shadedarker than ever before, and she looked down at him, Jughead connecting theirlustful orbs from his place almost between his legs. Opening his lips andsucking loudly her flesh there, she closed his eyes to relish in the feeling offilthily abusing her skin, bringing his teeth to the game and biting hard,sucking and nibbling, the angel underneath him forming the most voluptuousmoans that went straight to his painful now erection that was begging to sinkinto her thrashing body that was created by and for sin. A sultry fuck left her bubblegum pink lips andher head fell backwards as she rested her palms splayed on the desk behind her andJughead almost lost it at the sight of pure and innocent Betty Cooper gettinglost in pleasure with a bad boy like him, a boy that parents always advised good girlsto stay away from. With mouth wide open, silk sweat on the swell of her breasts,the infamous Serpent jacket still draped over her shoulders and legs spreadwide with a patch of soaking wet lace between them though, she was far from the goodgirl everyone was mistaken her for. And that was driving Jughead Jones mad and utterly helpless under her spell.

Once pleased with the large round redness on her skin that would turninto a lovely mauve bruise to compliment all of her other choices of pantiesfor the rest of the week, the raven haired boy let the waistband of her thongsnap back against her hipbone, Betty letting a hiss at the contact of the elastic with herirritated skin, before she watched him running the tip of his tongue in astraight line from her navel all the way up her stomach, the valley of herbreasts, the front of her neck, before shoving it again inside her mouth andtreating her with a wet and lazy make out.

“Jesus, Jughead, what are youdoing to me?” The blonde beauty murmured against his lips, fingers dancing fromhis chest to his neck, only to get lost inside his thick hair.

“You’ve seen nothing yet, Cooper.” He licked her down lip and then bitit lightly, her moan of appreciation and dizzy sexual desire warming his partedmouth. “Now, off you go.” He curled his hands around the back of her thighs,effortlessly putting her on the ground and holding her close as she stumbledforward, too lightheaded to actually stand on her own.

“You can’t be serious.” She scoffed looking up at him, her body rigidand wanting more of him, right here, right now.

“Weatherbee is going to be back any minute now.” Jughead reminded her,bending down to brush the tip of his nose against hers in newfound affection. “AndI want to do this right with you. I wanna take you out on a date” he gave her one of her favorite boyish smiles before dropping to leave a tender kiss on her neck “and a second” another kiss “and a third…” another and another and another and she was dizzy once again.

Betty smiled dreamingly, eyes closed and lips pecking the collarbone she was nudging her cheek against. “Only if you pick me up with that bike of yours.”

He chuckled against her skin, feeling her shiver, before pulling back and pushing a rebellious golden lock behind her ear. “You got yourself a deal. Friday night?” he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Friday night.” she confirmed with a happy nod and a girly smile, lower lip trapped between her teeth. “I’ll wear my shortest dress.” she toyed with his hormones like a pro, making him moan, slender fingers curling around his belt loop and rubbing her bra clad chest over his as she leaned to whisper playfully next to his lips.

Jughead’s eyes glistered with naughty mischief. “And those panties.” he offered back, drinking in her body hungrily and sneaking a hand over her firm behind under her skirt. “I wanna take a closer look.” He squeezed the bare skin of her ass, Betty jumping and letting a squeak of girly delight as she landed on his hard chest with a flustered giggle. “And don’t forget,Cooper. You owe me a smile.” he tipped her chin with the pointer of his free hand in faux warning before leaving a chaste kiss on her lips and untangling himself from her, instantly feeling empty.

And smile she did, bright and dashing andyouthfully, receiving the one thing that made her start falling in love withthe bad boy and his golden heart; a wink.

[5hfanfiction]

Love Will Remember

Chapter Twenty: The Antique Shop

Today was the day Camila was finally getting her cast off. It’s been a few weeks since the group’s sleepover at Lauren’s and nothing had changed. The green eyed girl did not remember anything after that little moment but Camila had no intentions of giving up on her. No matter how much it was hurting her, she loved the girl and she would do anything to help her. Over the past few weeks, she and Lauren had been slowly rebuilding their friendship.

Every day, even if she had to work, Camila would visit Lauren. They’d usually sit and watch movies or on the days when Clara took her daughter into their back yard, the both girls would sit and engage in light conversation. Camila never raised the topic of their relationship because she was afraid of pushing the girl. She wanted her to remember on her own. Like Lauren had promised, “even if my mind forgets, my heart would remember”, and Camila was planning on holding onto that promise.

***

“How does it feel to be out of your cast, Camila?” Perrie asked the girl, who was looking at her arm, enjoying finally being free out of that dreadful thing.

“It feels great! A bit weird, but great. I’m glad I have full use of my hand now.” She flexed her hand. “Time to get back in the ring and defend my title,” Camila joked.

Perrie had a panicked look on her face, “Not so fast Muhammed Ali. You still need to take it easy for a few weeks. Don’t do any strenuous activities. You may be out of your cast, but you’re still healing.”

“I know, Perrie. I’m not going to go pick a fight to break my hand again. I promise I’d be good” she smiled.

The nurse playfully punched the younger girl on the arm. “I’m going to miss seeing your annoying self around here.”

Camila scoffed. “I’m not annoying.” She pouted and crossed her arms. “But I’m going to miss you too. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I really appreciate it,” Perrie didn’t say anything; she just pulled the girl into a tight hug.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, love. I did it because I wanted to,” Perrie said after pulling away from the hug.

“I hope this doesn’t seem too weird but, would you like….to you know…to hang out outside of the whole hospital atmosphere sometime?” The girl stuttered and looked down bashfully. Perrie hadn’t responded, so the girl quickly threw in another statement, “It’s okay if you wouldn’t like to…I was just wondering,” she mumbled sadly.

“Oh no no no. I’d actually really love too. I was just a bit surprised is all. I’d really love to be your friend, Camila. You’re a great girl,” she smiled softly at Camila. “Give me your phone, let me put in my personal phone number, even though I believe one of your friends, Normani was it? Has it already.” After typing in her number on Camila’s iPhone, she handed the girl it back. They chatted for a few minutes after and planned to meet for some coffee in a few days. Camila bade her farewell and headed to the mall to grab some things she needed.

***

Meanwhile, Lauren was at home, sitting in her backyard. Everyday her mother would bring her downstairs to get some fresh air. She knew just how much her daughter hated being cooped up in her room all day. Ever since she was a child, she would be outside playing on her swing set or playing soccer with their neighbour’s son. She was always an energetic child, and one can simply imagine just how much she hated being confined to her wheelchair and bedroom.

She was looking at the little kids through the spaces between their white picket fence, running around and throwing water balloons at each other. Lauren was so caught up in her own thoughts, that she hadn’t noticed the presence of her friend not too far behind her. Subconsciously, the green eyed girl started humming the tune to a song, its lyrics and title remained a mystery to her, but somehow the tune was stuck in her head. The Latina’s friend was about to approach her but when the familiar tune filled her ears, she stopped dead in her tracks and a soft gasp escaped her lips.

The song she was humming was an old song and not much of a well known one, so chances of it being on the radio and her friend hearing it was quite slim. The Polynesian held onto the little hope that maybe just maybe, her friend had remembered something so special to her. However, she chose to ignore it in hopes that her friend would bring the topic up herself.

Dinah cleared her throat to make her presence known to her friend, “Hey Lauser. What’s up?”

The action was enough to startle her friend. Clutching her chest, the girl turned to the direction of the voice and she smiled once she saw the familiar face. “Dinah! You scared me,” the taller girl chuckled as she flopped down onto the grass. “I didn’t know you were coming. I wasn’t expecting you.”

The Polynesian girl shrugged her shoulders. She leaned back on her palms and looked up into the sky, seemingly admiring its beauty. “I know but I just wanted to check up on you. I haven’t seen you since Friday. And before you say it, yes I know today is Saturday so shut up. I just so happen to miss you a lot.”

The comment caused the green eyed Latina to smile widely, “Awww does my little DJ love me?” Dinah chuckled and rolled her eyes. She grasped at some leaves and threw it at her friend. “But to answer your first question since you came, I’m doing okay. I just feel like I’m forgetting something you know? I feel like some event is coming up but I can’t remember. I know it’s not my physical therapy because my mom knows when it is but I can’t seem to place my finger on it,” the girl let out a sigh in frustration.

Dinah chuckled. She knew what day was coming up. It was Camila’s birthday and the girl specifically told her friends to not plan anything because she wasn’t looking forward to the day. Birthdays were never memorable for Camila. When she was younger, she anticipated her birthday every year until she turned 5 and realized that nothing was ever going to happen. She never got a surprise party where her friends would come and they’d greet her and wish her happy birthday.

There was never any cutting of cake and ice cream or party games. As she grew older, she eventually despised the day as she was old enough to know that it was the day she lost both her parents; her father may have still been alive but he died the same day her mother did. He never performed the roles that a father was supposed to besides providing shelter for her and food, but only the bare minimum.

“Dinah, this is not funny! I’m trying so hard to remember what it is and it physically hurts. My head has been throbbing for a while now and I can’t seem to remember what’s coming up,” the girl looked at a friend and frowned. She saw the pain in the girl’s eyes. Lauren may not remember what day it was but it was eating her alive because she felt as though she needed to.

“It’s Camila’s birthday tomorrow,” Lauren was shocked at the revelation. “She said she doesn’t want anything to do with her birthday. I mean, I still got her a present, well I made her something so she can’t ask me to return it,” Dinah laughed lightly.

“It’s Camila’s birthday? I…I didn’t know,” Dinah looked at her and smirked. “I mean, I…I guess I did know? I just wasn’t sure what the occasion was.” Lauren was still shocked from learning that it was Camila’s birthday. She won’t deny that over the past few weeks, she’s grown quite fond of the young Latina, she also won’t deny that every time she sees her, her stomach does somersaults. But is she ready to admit that out loud? No. “What did you get her?” The green eyed girl asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Dinah sat up straight and slapped her palms on her thighs lightly. “Don’t laugh okay. I’m not very creative. It’s nothing fancy or anything, but I made her a scrap book. It’s a bunch of pictures of all five of us and under each picture, I captioned them with a memory I loved the most about that one moment.” Dinah smiled. “People may change, but pictures and memories don’t.” Lauren felt a pang in her heart. She knew her friend wasn’t trying to hurt her or make her feel guilty about forgetting Camila but she couldn’t help it.

She did feel guilty every time she saw the girl, every time she looked at her, she had to look away because even though Camila never said it out loud, Lauren saw the love in her eyes. The love that she had….only for her. And it ached. It ached because what good was it to be hopelessly in love with someone who’s chances of loving you back is slim to none?

“That’s really sweet, Dinah. I can’t believe you came up with something like that. You actually got me a coupon for a free happy meal at Mc Donald’s.” Lauren laughed trying to pushed away her guilt. “And you stole it the NEXT DAY! You greedy bitch.”

Dinah threw her head back laughing loudly. “OH MY GOSH!!” I totally remember that! A girl was hungry okay. It’s a doggy dog world.“

It was Lauren’s turn to laugh now. "Dinah. You do know it’s a ‘dog eat dog world’, right?” This caused her friend to gasp loudly.

“WHAT!? FOR REAL?! My childhood has been ruined,” Lauren laughed and gently patted her friend on the head.

“Thanks Dinah. You literally always brighten up my day and I can’t thank you enough for that.” The green eyed girl smiled genuinely at her friend who returned the gesture. The both girls sat in silence for a while just listening to the laughter of the kids next door. “Hey DJ?” Lauren asked breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Can you…can you take me to the little antique shop on ninth street? It’s not too far from here. I just feel like I need to go there for some reason. Maybe she likes stuff from there?”

“Oh the one, with the creepy picture of the old lady who looks as though she’d murder you in your sleep? Then drag you to hell and back?” Dinah chuckled.

“Yeah. That one,” Lauren laughed. “I..I want to get Camila a gift for her birthday. I don’t know what I’m going to get just yet but my mom won’t let me go far and that shop has some pretty neat stuff.” Dinah nodded. She helped herself up from the ground and dusted off the back of her pants with her hands. She was about to wheel her friend into her home, to go in search of her mother but Lauren shook her head 'no’. “It’s okay, DJ. I got this.” Nodding, she followed her friend into her home. Lauren was greeted to her mom sitting by the island sipping a cup of what she assumed to be coffee and going through a bunch of documents.

Clara looked up from her paperwork when she heard the door slide open. “Lauren, sweetheart, is everything okay?” Her mother asked in a concern laced tone.

“I’m fine mom. I was just wondering if Dinah can take me to the antique shop?” Lauren asked hopeful.

“Sure. Can you just drive cautiously? Don’t go over the speed limit, and be vigilant on the roads. Okay?” Clara addressed her daughter’s friend who nodded. “Why do you want to go there, anyway?”

“Camila’s birthday is tomorrow and Lauren wants to get her a gift. Nothing too fancy because you know how Camila gets but she still wants to give her something,” Dinah answered for her friend.

Clara Jauregui’s eyes opened widely. “Oh no! It’s Camila’s birthday tomorrow? I completely forgot! Why didn’t she say anything? We should do something for her. What about a small dinner in one of the restaurants? Or is that too much? Maybe the diner where she works? I know she’s not one for attention. Oh my gosh yes! We’d do the diner. I’d start planning now. All you girls have to do is show up tomorrow, say around 7pm. And we’d surprise her.” Clara rambled on ignoring Dinah’s attempts to stop her from talking. “Who should we invite?”

“Mama J, Camila doesn’t want to do anything for her birthday. That’s why she didn’t say anything. She isn’t looking forward to it,” Dinah tried to reason with her friend’s mother but she wasn’t having it. Sighing heavily, she knew she wasn’t going to win. “It should be small. I guess just, you guys, the girls and I, what about your friend Camila Mendes? I saw on Instagram that she was coming to town for a few days.” Dinah directed the question to Lauren.

“Oh yeah. She texted me and told me that she’d visit me tomorrow, so I guess I can bring her along. Did she know, Camz?”

Dinah smiled at the nickname Lauren always called her best friend, “Yeah she did. They got along pretty well actually. Oh and I guess we can invite Perrie. Camila’s nurse. Chancho texted me after she got her cast off and told me that they were going to hang out. So I guess she’d probably like to have one of her friends there. If that’s cool with you guys?” She looked at her friend and Clara seeking an answer.

Despite Camila not wanting to celebrate her birthday, Dinah knew the girl would appreciate having her friends there. Hell, she’d probably just be happy with Lauren there alone. Dinah also knew how hard it was for Camila to make friends and open up to people. So trying to form a friendship with Perrie was a huge thing, besides the girls, Camila Mendes was the only friend she had outside of the group, but she wasn’t sure she could’ve been counted given that she was Lauren’s best friend.

“Of course she can come! You guys go on ahead. I have a lot of planning to do!” Clara ushered the girl outside and helped her daughter into Dinah’s vehicle and telling the Polynesian yet again, to be cautious with her driving.

The girls were off on their journey to the antique shop. Lauren had be quiet the entire ride and Dinah decided not to say anything. The soft singing of Beyonce played through the speakers whilst the younger girl tapped her fingers and bobbed her head along to the beat. They pulled up in front of the building; it hadn’t changed much since Lauren has last been here.

There was still that one picture that gave Dinah the creeps, but it seemed to have gotten some new stocks from what they saw in the shop’s window; a music box, porcelain doll that seemed much to similar to the one from Annabelle and a couple of other things. “If I didn’t love you, Lauren, I definitely would never set foot into a place like this.” The green eyed girl chuckled and shook her head. Her friend assisted her out of the car and into her wheelchair.

“Thanks, DJ,” she said with a smile. Dinah nodded back and walked in front to hold the door open for her friend. The chimes above the door went off which signalled to the owner that someone had entered. Lauren was hit with a sense of familiarity. She instantly got a splitting headache. A vision popped into her head, she could’ve barely seen anything but the voices were quite audible.

*Flashback*

“Lauren! It’s nice to see you again! Looking for anything special today?” It was a woman’s voice, with a thick British accent. She recognized it to be one of her old friends and the daughter of the owner of the shop.

“Hey, Dua! I’m actually looking for a gift for my girlfriend. But I’m not too sure on what to get her. It’s her 20th birthday soon and I want the perfect gift but I’m so clueless. Help me?” Lauren heard herself begging the girl who chuckled at her.

“Well we do have something. It’s not being sold as yet. Here let me show you,” Dua said. “Okay so these are a bunch of snow globes, as you can see,” she giggled. “You can design it how you’d want it to be and you can even include a song. I think its pretty dope. I’m not sure if you like it. Is Camila a fan of snow globes?” The girl asked.

“I’m not sure. Well she doesn’t have any but I love it. Can I get this one?” Lauren asked.

“Sure. What do you want to put in it? Figurines? A picture? And the song.”

“Um..I’d put a picture of us. And the song, um can I get 'Love Will Remember’ by Selena Gomez in a piano version?” The green eyed girl heard herself asking.

“AW! You guys look so cute? When was this picture taken? And sure, I’d have to look for it. Do you want me to engrave it as well?” Dua asked cheerfully. Lauren could practically hear her grin.

“It was on our first date. We had a picnic by the beach. It wasn’t anything fancy but I had such an amazing time with her. She’s everything I could ever want, Dua. She’s beautiful even though she doesn’t see it. She makes my heart do this weird thing where it speeds up every time she looks at me, gosh. I fall in love with her over and over every single day.” The Cuban gushed.

“Awww! Can someone please love me the way you love her. I am so single.” Lauren giggled.

“Oh and for the engraving, is it possible if I can get a lock and a key with the words 'love will remember’ on it?”

“You betcha! It’d be ready in two weeks. It’d be….$49.79. But you can pay when you get it, okay?” The British girl scribbled down something in a book.

“Thank you so much for helping me, Dua,” they exchanged smiles. “See you around?” Lauren asked.

“Sure thing, Laur. See you around. Tell Camila I said 'hi!’.”

*End of flashback*

“Uhh,” Lauren groaned and rubbed her temples. Her head was aching badly and she had no idea what had just happened. The green eyed girl didn’t understand what was happening to her, these flashbacks had only occurred whenever she was around Camila or it involved the brown eyed Latina.

“Hey, Laur, you okay?” Dinah was leaning at her friend’s side. But her friend shook her head 'no’. The younger girl left her friend’s side and came back just as quickly.

She had a bottle of water in her hand and some painkillers. Another girl was standing closely looking on at what had just happened. “Here, take this.” The girl shakily took the glass of water and pills, after gulping down the water, she sighed heavily. The Polynesian inquired again about her health.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. I just get these random headaches but I’m okay. Don’t worry,” she smiled but her friend could’ve seen that it was forced. Dinah was about to protest but Lauren cut her off. “Seriously, DJ. I’m fine. The pills are already helping okay? Don’t worry.”

“Hey, Lauren. It’s been quite a while,” a girl greeted. “Are you sure you’re okay?” This was the same British accent from her flashback.

When Lauren looked in the girl’s directly, she smiled. “Dua! Hey! You’re right it’s been a while. I’m doing okay. How have you been?”

Dua scoffed and shook her head. “Laur, you’re in a wheelchair and you’re asking about me? What happened to you?” She looked at the girl sadly.

“I was in an accident some months back. You didn’t know?” Lauren asked but the girl shook her head 'no’.

“I was out of the country for a few months. I went to spend Christmas with my family and I only got back last month. Christmas turned into a month and some weeks,” she chuckled. “How bad was the accident?”

“Pretty bad, Lauren was in a coma for a month and Camila was injured as well. She broke her arm and had some minor injuries here and there but she’s okay now. In fact, her cast came off today,” Dinah rested her hand on Lauren’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Lauren also has some memory loss.”

“That’s good to hear then. Not the part about you being in a coma,” she clarified. “But you’re alive and I’m glad you are!” Dua said cheerfully. “Hey! You never actually came back for your package.” She went behind the counter and started rummaging through some boxes.

Lauren’s friend appeared back at her side, “Package? What package?” She asked curiously and the raven haired girl eyes opened widely. Could it have been…?

“Dua? By any chance is it a…a snow globe?” She wasn’t sure if what she saw was correct but everything about that flashback seemed so real.

“Found it!” She yelled as she popped up from behind the counter with a brown box in her hand. “And yeah, it’s a snow globe. I’m guessing this is one of the things you don’t recall?” The British girl asked and Lauren nodded. “Well you customized it yourself for your one year actually. You wanted to get something special for Camila.” She handed the box to Dinah who gave it to Lauren.

The Cuban opened the box and pulled out the item, it was wrapped in bubble wrap, after pulling the snow globe out of it, she couldn’t help the small smile that spread across her face when she laid her eyes on that picture of them. “I love it.” She whispered and the other two girls smiled.

“Well thank you, I did a pretty good job on it, if I do say so myself,” Dua said tooting her own horn. She playfully flipped her hair which caused the two friends to laugh.

“Hey, I don’t think I paid for this. Didn’t I?” Lauren asked while placing it back in the box.

“Nah you didn’t but its okay. You can keep it,” she smiled. “And I know you’re going to try to fight me down but my decision is final.”

Lauren nodded. “Thank you, Dua. I appreciate it.”

Dua gently squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “It’s no problem. I really hope Camila likes it.”

“Hey, do you want to come to her birthday party tomorrow? It’s nothing big but it’d be nice if you came,” Dinah asked but Dua shook her head.

“Thanks for the invite guys but I can’t. My parents have something to attend to, so I’d be working the shop,” Dinah nodded in understanding. “Wish her happy birthday for me, yeah?” Dua asked. “Well I gotta head back to cleaning. I’d see you guys around?”

The girls nodded again. “You will.”

After leaving the shop, Dinah was waiting at the passenger’s side of the car with the door open along with the trunk to place Lauren’s wheelchair in. She assisted her friend into her Audi and hopped into the driver’s side, but before starting the vehicle, her friend asked her something.

“Dinah, I need a favour.”

*** Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter 🦋 Next chapter is Camilita’s birthday 💃🎉🎊 I wonder what’s going to happen 🤔

Don’t forget to check me out on Wattpad: Commander_Camren

[lightandsaltdesigns]

The perfect gift

 “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” ‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:26-30‬

Without thinking much about it I walked outside in my slippers, trudged through the yard dragging the hose, and began giving my vegetable garden a quick drink before the sun set. As I stood methodically waving the water back and forth I looked out over the field of grass that extended past the garden by another 120 feet, guarded by a towering silver maple tree that has seen at least double my life in summers. I hold my breath as I listen to the sound of frogs, buzzing insects, and birds in the distance. The sun is low in the sky and golden hour is gently receding into the tree line.  I’m brought back to attention by the sound of a car passing by. I finish my watering but pause one more time to survey the yard before I walk back to the house.

The following evening, my husband is sawing flooring in the garage while my children are running back and forth from the garage to the kitchen, torn between playing with a dog we are watching and playing with scrap pieces of wood. One minute they are perching on the right side of their father, peering over whatever he’s working on and asking endless questions, and the next they are tearing through the kitchen beckoning the dog to chase them, bursting into laughter when she does. “She’s a race car, mommy!”.

I leave the laundry I should be folding in the living room to check on the progress of the floor, and I pause in our breezeway, peering through the back door window that we recently replaced to increase the ease of view of the yard.

A doe stands about 100 feet away staring at me, ears perked to the clamor of noises coming from our home. She was curious, but content to continue her search for new, fresh leaves to munch.

I stood for a while peering out the window at her, observing her slow chewing and gentle walking as the frenzy of activity continued around me. A beautiful, peaceful moment, and not an uncommon one in our suburban natural oasis.

I think to myself, what a gift.

I could stop there. Stop at the thankfulness of the gift, but that would be selling short just how special the gift is.

The gift is special because of the giver.

Have you ever gotten a gift from someone and just been so blown away by how well they know you? A gift so specifically tailored to what you would want that you’re warmed even more by the giver’s knowledge and understanding of who you are?

I have, but nothing compares to the gifts my Heavenly Father has given me, because he knows me better than I know myself. He knit me together in my mothers womb and he calls me precious, honored and loved. He sees the depths of my sin that is now covered in Christ’s righteousness and he calls me his beloved daughter.

When I was a little girl, I frequently felt a little lost in the world. Lonely and longing, caged and restless. Misunderstood and unaware of how to process my emotions.

When I would get to go to my grandparents little cabin, I would stand on the porch and peer out onto the open field of grass that was met with the shore of a quaint country lake and I felt free, I felt the presence of God, and my worries were replaced with wonder.

I didn’t even have an inkling that someday I would wake up every day to a landscape mirroring some characteristics of that one.

The longing my heart didn’t have words for was met with the gift my Father had always wanted to give me.

I approached the neon yellow house almost 7 years ago and walked through the knotty pine breezeway and through the back door, and as soon as I laid eyes on that towering maple and continued my gaze past it to the rolling grass that melted into the wood line and spring fed creek, I knew this was a gift. A gift wrapped in awful yellow wood wrapping paper, and I needed to receive it and let God make it all beautiful in his time.

My husband and I have talked often about how not everyone would see this home and yard as a gift. To many it would just be a massive project, too small and disfuncional, the yard too wet all spring and too time consuming to maintain, the road in the front too busy and close. But to us, it’s the perfect gift. It’s perfect because the giver knows us perfectly. When we are frustrated that we can’t fix everything we want as fast as we want, or disheartened that we can’t have a new kitchen, or annoyed that we don’t have a basement, we remind ourselves that everything we have is a gift.

We invite people over to enjoy our yard and laugh with us at the turkeys clumsily flying down from the tree. We let children battle with lightsabers across the field and get their feet muddy. We watch with joy as our children catch toads and display them to us proudly, as they learn to work hard picking up sticks and raking leaves, as they awkwardly try to learn how to kick a soccer ball and swing a bat. We have a constant supply of marshmallows ready for roasting, and bug spray to share. We let the small spaces in our home be filled with laughter and prayer and the sharing of burdens. We count baby ducklings and baby turkeys, we laugh at fighting squirrels and hyper, leaping fawns, we pray the bunnies don’t get eaten by hawks, and as I’m typing this a fox just ran across the road and into our back yard as my kids race to the breezeway window to see where he went. We pause and we weep (ok, maybe just me) and we wonder at how God could have saved this little place for us, for this season of our life.

I just wanted to write it all down to remember, and maybe to remind you that

Life is a gift and the giver is good.

And may we never lose our wonder.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Sara

[geneserfiction]

Cicada Skin Short

It smelled like a wild and strangled thing, the lake. In biology class he had been taught that that was the smell of gases released from lake bacteria and algae, though Drew still had a suspicion that it was the smell of fish sweat. He imagined a writhing mass just under the surface; fish eating smaller fish and being eaten themselves. Consuming fins and scales, and being consumed in the never-ending frenzy.

Drew was a slight boy, who hid bad report cards under his pillow, who liked to kick a soccer ball through the park by himself, whose older brother had been arrested two months ago for assault of an officer.

The camp was a bit of a dump, Drew didn’t think his parents had done much research before deciding to send him here for a week. It was away from home. That had been good enough for them. Truthfully it had been a relief for Drew as well. The summer had been spent in clipped conversations with his parents during the day, and sleepless hours of pretending not to hear them fight at night. Also the camp had a pool, which had been a nice escape for the past few days.

Yesterday the person who had been in charge of watching the pool had been their squad leader, counselor Wayne. A quiet red-headed guy who only ate ham and cheese sandwiches.

Drew stood up and threw a rock hard at the lake, watching the surface heave and ebb with the ripples. He turned around and walked back into the woods.

He hoped he would never be like Wayne. All gangly and awkward, too paralyzed with indecision to save that poor kid. Drew had seen the roughhousing, one kid pushed another, and that kid had backed up into this small boy, who couldn’t have been more than nine. Drew definitely remembered the smack as the boy’s head hit the poolside hard, and then the sickening realization that as the boy rolled into the pool and slipped into the water, he would drown soon.

Drew kicked at a pinecone. Wayne had been useless, just staring all slack jawed at the shape under the water. Though, Drew had done the same thing. Still, he wasn’t Wayne’s age, if he was he would have acted like a man and dove in to save the kid. Drew rubbed his chin expectantly.

It had been the camp director who saved the kid. He had been there doing an inspection and had just dove in, in full uniform, his tie dripping as he lifted the boy out of the pool. The director, Mr. Carson, had only pushed on the kid’s chest a few times before he coughed back to life. Drew remembered clapping with the rest of his squad. And Mr. Carson, looking like a big and wet grey sheep dog carrying the boy to the nurse’s. He remembered something else about Mr. Carson, but he couldn’t quite say what.

He picked up a stick and threw it as high up into a tree as he could, hoping it would stick in one of the branches. Drew was sick of Wayne, and sick of the pool’s chorine smell, and most of all, he was sick of people. So after breakfast in the cafeteria, instead of going to the pool with his squad he had slipped off into the woods, to be sick of everything all on his own.

He let his hand graze the bark of a pine, and then, in violent certainty he gripped the bark hard, in an effort to tear it off. The stony skin tore at his fingers and he pulled back. He kept walking but couldn’t brush off the tree sap that was sticking his fingers together. Turning his five-fingered hand into one flipper.

There are not many places in a wood where a person can lie down. They can lean, or sit propped against a boulder, but when they put their head to the earth there’s always a sense of unease. Drew always had the unjustified fear that if he fell asleep in the dirt; he’d wake up with worms in his hair. He didn’t feel like lying down anyway, he had a veritable restlessness in his legs he wanted to work through.

He picked up a stick from a fallen tree, ash, and swung it against a big rock. Then he swung it again. Back and forth, a metronome, keeping time to the incessant music of the birds and cicadas. The boy of twelve watched his stick splinter bit by bit, a poor sword for a knight of the forest, he laughed to himself.

Drew remembered his childhood fantasy of being a knight with fond embarrassment. Because, of course, Drew did not think of himself as a kid anymore, and he did not think that he dreamt any longer either. Lately though, he did find himself lost in spiraled thoughts, thoughts that he liked to think to himself in an empty place.

No one sneaks in the woods. There are too many dead things on the floor to give away footsteps. And the trees will not guard a voice from carrying.

At that moment Drew heard the graceless rustling sound of someone making their way towards him. He could hear the faint sound of bad whistling too.

As the whistle became louder, Drew thought about folding himself into the boulder behind him, and watching the person pass in secret. But he stopped himself, thinking that it would be worse to be caught trying to spy than it would to make awkward conversation. So instead he crossed his legs and pretended to examine the sky in a lazy sort of way, like how his brother would do.

“Hey kid, are you out here alone?” A nasal voice asked.

Drew kept his gaze with the sky for a second longer and then turned to the voice. “Sure.” He said. The boy was tall, but looked like he hadn’t grown into his height. His hair was shaggy, and sun-bleached an adventurous dusty blonde. He had some bits of leaves stuck in his hair too. Drew thought that he would very much like to be this boy’s friend.

Sitting on the branches of a squat red oak, they split a Nutrigrain that Seagram, that was his name, had brought.

“Yeah my parents wanted us all to have special names.” He rolled his eyes. “My sister’s name is Bramble. Their names are Chuck and Nancy, and they said they always wished they had unique names. But people have started calling me semen at school so I’m not sure if they thought mine through.” Drew tried to cover his laugh, but eventually couldn’t hold it. “Hey don’t laugh man!” Seagram hit him playfully. They looked like strange birds up in that tree.

Seagram, it turned out, was a camper as well, from a different squad than Drew, but they were the same age, eleven. And they bonded over the fact that they both had older siblings.

Drew brushed his dark hair from his eyes and squinted at the brightness of the day. “I don’t know.” He said. “It feels like you get to a certain age and you just break you know? Like I hope when I’m my brother’s age I don’t start acting like a dick to everyone.”

Seagram shook his head sadly. “Too bad you don’t have a choice.” He looked at Drew with a face that was trying to stay straight. “Cause on your thirteenth birthday your parents are gonna put a worm in your ear that starts controlling your brain, and making you into a dick.” Seagram snickered at himself and then tried to pull his face straight again. “Oh you haven’t heard about this? It’s definitely a thing. Yup for sure.” He nodded.

“Oh no, I’ve heard of it.” Drew said playing along, smiling. “And then that worm just stays in your head for the rest of your life?”

“Nope.” Seagram said. “On your eighteenth birthday that worm is going to turn into a beautiful butterfly, and then it’s going to make you think only about doing adult things, like going to work, and doing your taxes, and, I don’t know, red wine.” Seagram held up a pretend wine glass and swirled it.

“Red wine!” Drew repeated, laughing.

“So what are you doing out in the woods by yourself?” Seagram asked.

Drew looked at his hands. “Just chilling, you know.” He sighed. “Plus I didn’t want to be at that dumb camp anymore.”

“True, that camp eats farts.” Seagram nodded. “The counselors are all super peppy and weird, and most of those other campers, they’re just so goody-goody.”

“Exactly!” Drew said matching eyes with the taller boy.

“Plus the activities are dumb. I don’t want to learn how to tie knots, I want to be out in the woods hunting.” He mimed shooting a rifle at an imaginary deer. “You know my parents let me hunt for squirrels in our backyard. We have a forest on our land, and mom keeps some chickens so she says that the dead squirrels are good for keeping the coyotes fed and away from the coop.”

Drew felt a pang of sympathy for the squirrels. “That’s so cool.” He said. “I wish this camp had sports.”

“Do you play any sports?” Seagram asked.

“Yeah I play soccer in a club.”

“Cool, what position?”

“Defender. Sometimes midfielder.” Drew answered.

“Oh so you’re slow.” Seagram said.

“What?” Something small bristled inside Drew. “No, I’m not slow.”

“Well if you were fast then you would be a forward wouldn’t you.” Seagram shrugged.

“No, actually. You have to be fast to be a defender too. Plus my brother was a defender.”

“I bet I’m faster than you.” Seagram said, a spark of excitement in his voice.

“Oh as if, I bet I can beat you back to camp easy.” Drew said, a smile growing on his face.

The two of them dropped down from the tree. “Ok, so first one to touch the camp sign at the entrance wins. “Seagram said. The two of them crouched into running positions. “Ready?” Seagram said, but his voice was drowned out by the sharp cry of the camp bell.

“What’s that? It’s too early for lunch.” Drew said standing straight.

“I don’t know, maybe some kind of emergency.” Seagram said.

“What are you two doing out here? You shouldn’t be here unsupervised.” A voice hard and wooden surprised them. It belonged to one of the counselors. The crackle-voiced reedy one who told knock-knock jokes sometimes. He didn’t seem to be in a joking mood now though, he had that angry panicked look adults get when something’s gone wrong. “We’re going back to camp right now.” He said, looking back at them. “Let’s go.”

“Is something wrong?” Drew asked as they passed beneath the shadowed pines. “Are we in trouble?”

“No, you’re not in trouble.” The counselor looked at Drew from the corner of his eye. He looked scared. “A camper’s gone missing.”

If Maple Acres campground had been a lazy dragonfly before, it was now a cicada in death throws. The counselors were jogging, barking orders to one another and yelling at the campers to stay in their blocks. Some counselors still tried to insist that the campers stay at attention, but gave up when some of the younger ones began crying. The older campers were gossiping excitedly.  Drew could only catch certain words overflowing from their conversation. Kidnapped. Murder. Slenderman. Hook-hand. Murder.

The counselor all but shoved them towards the circle of counselors in the middle of camp. Drew saw the senior counselors gathered around the camp director, who was calmly gesturing his directions. The man had a long jaw and was stouter than Drew remembered. He had a kempt grey goatee and his shoulders were broad with authority. His eyes met Drew’s.

Drew’s stomach had no bottom. His head switched places with his neck, and he felt himself being rolled in on himself, his ears wrapping around himself to become a perverse sort of spring roll womb.

“Drew.” Seagram’s voice pulled him out. “Are you ok?”

Drew looked around himself he was on the ground. Concern was on Seagram’s face, the counselors looked surprised. The camp director looked at him with a face of supple iron. “I must have tripped.” Drew picked himself up.

“You found these three in the woods Jason?” The camp director asked the reedy counselor.

“Yes, Mr. Carson.” The two of them talked over the boy’s heads. The director, Mr. Carson, asked them their names and looked them up in the directory.

“Seagram is in your squad Casey.” He told a ruddy-looking counselor, who blushed. “And, this one.” He pointed at Drew. “Is in yours Wayne.” Drew hadn’t noticed his counselor, but he couldn’t miss him now. His face had the sticky pallor of someone who was ashamed enough to go and jump into a ditch.

“Mr. Carson, I—” Wayne sputtered and bit back a sob. “I’m going to find him, he’s my responsibility and I’m going to find him.”

“No Wayne.” Mr. Carson put a hand on Wayne that Drew thought was supposed to be comforting, but felt a little threatening. “We’re going to find Brian together, he’s all of our responsibility.”

They were sent back to the rest of the campers without even a reprimand. By lunchtime all pretense of order was gone and the kids were a quivering group of rumor and anxiety. They were herded to the cafeteria, where they were watched with unyielding closeness by half the camp staff.

The other half were out looking for the kid Drew only knew as Brian. Seagram grilled him on who it might be since the boy was apparently from Drew’s own squad, but Drew told them he hadn’t gotten to know anyone very well at camp so he had no good idea who it was.

“You had to be a lone wolf huh Drew?” Seagram asked. “You couldn’t be a socialite who could let me in on this hot gossip.”

“You should take this more seriously man, the kid could be hurt somewhere.” A camper with big teeth said sternly.

“I heard that someone saw him walking to the lake last night.” Someone else said joining in on their circle.

“Yeah but the kid couldn’t swim.” Another camper added.

“How do you know he couldn’t swim?” Drew asked the direction the voice had come from.

“Because he almost drowned yesterday at the pool.” The voice answered.

A bright burst of memory. “Wait I do remember that kid.” Drew said. Seagram drew closer, and motioned with his hand for Drew to share like a conspirator. “I saw him almost drown, it was the director who saved him.”

Seagram looked a lot like a stupid fish with his mouth open. “That makes sense, of course Carson would have something to do with it.”

“What is it? Do you know something about Mr. Carson?” Drew asked him, remembering the man’s eyes in the back of his mind.

“We can’t talk here.” Seagram looked over his shoulder. “I don’t want to spread this story around and get in trouble. You’re cabin 1B right?” Drew nodded. “Ok, meet me outside your cabin tonight at one in the morning, I’ll tell you what I heard then.”

“But.” Drew began. The taller boy seemed to think that sneaking out in the middle of the night was a natural thing, even though there may very well be a murderer stalking the night. “How do we get out without being caught?” He asked.

A curtain drew over Seagram’s face as he was getting up, leaving only someone with a much older and serious face. “Be sneaky.”

[milenasanchezmk]

CrossFit’s Criticism: How Do I Eat Enough Carbs on Primal?

By far the single most common criticism levied against paleo by CrossFitters is that it’s too damn difficult to eat enough carbs to maintain performance during workouts. There is definitely truth there.

First, let’s establish something. Do CrossFitters indeed need more carbs than your average Primal bear?

Yes.

CrossFit workouts are intense. Your muscles need fuel to support intense movements, and they need it immediately and repeatedly. Glycogen just works better for that. It’s a matter of logistics. Glycogen is right there in the muscle, ready to go. It’s settled, sedentary, tethered. The fatty acids we burn are unencumbered, nomadic, going where they’re needed. That’s why we call them free fatty acids.

Furthermore, glycogen requires less oxygen to burn than fat. As your average CrossFit workout has you out of breath within the first minute or two, glycogen is a CrossFitter’s best friend.

If you don’t believe me, perhaps this 2016 study will convince you. It was a unique one because they took actual CrossFitters following a moderate-low-carb diet (around 200-ish grams per day) and separated them into two groups. One group stayed moderate-low, the other bumped their intake up to 400-500+ grams per day. Both maintained normal 3 on, 1 off CrossFit training schedules. They gave performance tests before and after the diet shift, using the Rahoi WOD (as many rounds as possible in 12 minutes of 12 box jumps, 6 95-lb thrusters, 6 bar-facing burpees). The higher carb group saw bigger improvements than the moderate carb group—an 11.1% improvement vs a 4.5% improvement.

Clearly, both groups were able to improve performance. However, if performance is your PRIMARY goal, then more (especially quality) carbs are likely to help. I’ll cover more on goals in a future post….

But isn’t Primal low-carb?

Standard Primal defaults to lower carb because it’s enough for most people. If you take a look at the Primal Blueprint Carb Curve, you’ll notice that 150 grams/day is the recommended level for people interested in maintaining body weight and supporting an active lifestyle. As anyone with a decent head on their shoulders, a cursory knowledge of how fat, carbs, and protein work, and functioning eyes can tell you, the vast majority of the population has no business consuming a high-carb diet. Few people do the type of work that requires “carb-loading.” As a result, 150 grams is plenty for your average man or woman.

Many of my readers got into Primal looking to lose weight, and low-carb, high-fat is the simplest, most effective way for most people to do that. 

I’m doing a keto experiment right now, and I’ve got a keto book coming out in a few months that will talk more about that choice and the science behind it. Personally, I run best on high-fat. It works for my goals, desires, and predilections. 

But the beauty of this way of life is that what I or anyone else eats does not determine what you “have to” eat.

Primal’s flexible, remember?

Allow me to dispense with some common misconceptions about Primal eating and carbohydrates that CrossFitters might hold:

We’re not against carbs. Carbs are an elective source of calories to be divvied out according to training volume, performance goals, and individual variation in tolerance/desire. If you’re regularly engaging in CrossFit WODS or other types of anaerobic activity (e.g. HIIT, sprinting, heavy lifting, mid-to-high intensity endurance training, sports like soccer, basketball, football), you should probably eat around 100 extra grams per hour of anaerobic output. If I come off as a carb basher, it’s only because I assume that most people aren’t doing the kind of activity that warrants carb-loading. CrossFitters are not those people. They can use the carbs.

We don’t carb-load with kale. All those horror stories of paleo CrossFitters trying to replenish glycogen by eating four pounds of broccoli in a single sitting? That doesn’t happen on Primal. Around here, above ground vegetables—leafy greens, cruciferous vegetables, summer squash, mushrooms, asparagus, and other non-starchy plant matter—are fair game. They don’t “count” against your carb intake, either because it’s more fiber than glucose or because it takes more glucose to digest than it provides.

We’re more concerned with carb quality, not quantity. Nutrient-poor, refined sources of carbohydrates might refill glycogen, but that’s about all they do. If you need more glycogen, it’s far more advantageous to your health and your performance to get it through nutrient-dense, whole sources of carbohydrate. To do otherwise is just missing an easy opportunity for more micronutrients.

What are some starchy or carb-rich foods one can eat on Primal?

Potatoes. Long maligned on orthodox paleo, potatoes are totally fine on Primal. If you cook, then cool them, they’ll generate resistant starch, a prebiotic that feeds healthy gut bacteria. And the basic white potato is far more nutritious than most people claim. It’s high in potassium, magnesium, and it’s even a source of complete protein.

Sweet potatoes. Purple, white, orange—they’re all good. If you’re putting your body through the wringer, eat purple sweet potatoes; the polyphenols offer protection against exercise-induced oxidative stress.

Bananas. Eat ’em ripe and you’ll get a big dose of glucose. Eat ’em on the greener side and you’ll get a big dose of resistant starch. Either way, you get the potassium—a crucial electrolyte.

Plantains. You’ve probably had them at a Cuban or Jamaican restaurant. You loved them, didn’t you? Get yourself to a Caribbean market and buy some plantains, gently sauté them in a little fat, and eat with some good sour cream on the side. Your glycogen-starved muscles will thank you.

Rice. Pure glucose. Little in the way of micronutrients, but you can amend that by cooking the rice in bone broth, adding trace mineral drops to the cooking liquid, and cooking and cooling the rice to increase the resistant starch content.

Legumes (if tolerated). Check out my recent post explaining why I changed my stance. Excellent sources of fiber, minerals, and phytonutrients (particularly the colorful ones). Plus, legume protein, while not complete, can supplement and augment the animal protein you eat.

Dairy. Lactose is half glucose, half galactose; a similar mix was recently shown to enhance glycogen repletion after exercise. And milk drinking improves muscle protein synthesis after exercise and performance during exercise. Dairy also provides protein and calcium, which you need to stem the exercise-induced increase in parathyroid hormone and to strengthen your bones.

By now, it’s clear that you can eat as many carbs as you need on a Primal eating plan. There’s nothing stopping you. You won’t butt up against any rigid ideology.

However, there are some things to keep in mind before you start mainlining Japanese sweet potatoes.

Once replenished, muscle glycogen doesn’t disappear. If you refill your glycogen stores with a huge post-workout sweet potato, walking the dog, playing with your kids, or going shopping will barely budge your muscle glycogen. When the next workout rolls around, you’ll be ready.

Carb cycling is an option. Eat high carb on training days, low carb on rest days. It works for elite athletes’ performance just as well as around-the-clock high-carb.

I can’t tell anyone what to do. I can give good information that represents the science as I understand it, and the rest is up to you. And I always recommended an N=1 experiment. Take careful note of of how many carbs you ate on any given day, when you ate them, and how you felt, performed and slept. See what you notice.

For what it’s worth, I have it on very good authority that you can get enough carbs while staying Primal to support and improve your performance in CrossFit.

Thanks for reading, everyone. Stay tuned for the next installment of the series next week.

Want to make fat loss easier? Try the Definitive Guide for Troubleshooting Weight Loss for free here.

[cristinajourdanqp]

CrossFit’s Criticism: How Do I Eat Enough Carbs on Primal?

By far the single most common criticism levied against paleo by CrossFitters is that it’s too damn difficult to eat enough carbs to maintain performance during workouts. There is definitely truth there.

First, let’s establish something. Do CrossFitters indeed need more carbs than your average Primal bear?

Yes.

CrossFit workouts are intense. Your muscles need fuel to support intense movements, and they need it immediately and repeatedly. Glycogen just works better for that. It’s a matter of logistics. Glycogen is right there in the muscle, ready to go. It’s settled, sedentary, tethered. The fatty acids we burn are unencumbered, nomadic, going where they’re needed. That’s why we call them free fatty acids.

Furthermore, glycogen requires less oxygen to burn than fat. As your average CrossFit workout has you out of breath within the first minute or two, glycogen is a CrossFitter’s best friend.

If you don’t believe me, perhaps this 2016 study will convince you. It was a unique one because they took actual CrossFitters following a moderate-low-carb diet (around 200-ish grams per day) and separated them into two groups. One group stayed moderate-low, the other bumped their intake up to 400-500+ grams per day. Both maintained normal 3 on, 1 off CrossFit training schedules. They gave performance tests before and after the diet shift, using the Rahoi WOD (as many rounds as possible in 12 minutes of 12 box jumps, 6 95-lb thrusters, 6 bar-facing burpees). The higher carb group saw bigger improvements than the moderate carb group—an 11.1% improvement vs a 4.5% improvement.

Clearly, both groups were able to improve performance. However, if performance is your PRIMARY goal, then more (especially quality) carbs are likely to help. I’ll cover more on goals in a future post….

But isn’t Primal low-carb?

Standard Primal defaults to lower carb because it’s enough for most people. If you take a look at the Primal Blueprint Carb Curve, you’ll notice that 150 grams/day is the recommended level for people interested in maintaining body weight and supporting an active lifestyle. As anyone with a decent head on their shoulders, a cursory knowledge of how fat, carbs, and protein work, and functioning eyes can tell you, the vast majority of the population has no business consuming a high-carb diet. Few people do the type of work that requires “carb-loading.” As a result, 150 grams is plenty for your average man or woman.

Many of my readers got into Primal looking to lose weight, and low-carb, high-fat is the simplest, most effective way for most people to do that. 

I’m doing a keto experiment right now, and I’ve got a keto book coming out in a few months that will talk more about that choice and the science behind it. Personally, I run best on high-fat. It works for my goals, desires, and predilections. 

But the beauty of this way of life is that what I or anyone else eats does not determine what you “have to” eat.

Primal’s flexible, remember?

Allow me to dispense with some common misconceptions about Primal eating and carbohydrates that CrossFitters might hold:

We’re not against carbs. Carbs are an elective source of calories to be divvied out according to training volume, performance goals, and individual variation in tolerance/desire. If you’re regularly engaging in CrossFit WODS or other types of anaerobic activity (e.g. HIIT, sprinting, heavy lifting, mid-to-high intensity endurance training, sports like soccer, basketball, football), you should probably eat around 100 extra grams per hour of anaerobic output. If I come off as a carb basher, it’s only because I assume that most people aren’t doing the kind of activity that warrants carb-loading. CrossFitters are not those people. They can use the carbs.

We don’t carb-load with kale. All those horror stories of paleo CrossFitters trying to replenish glycogen by eating four pounds of broccoli in a single sitting? That doesn’t happen on Primal. Around here, above ground vegetables—leafy greens, cruciferous vegetables, summer squash, mushrooms, asparagus, and other non-starchy plant matter—are fair game. They don’t “count” against your carb intake, either because it’s more fiber than glucose or because it takes more glucose to digest than it provides.

We’re more concerned with carb quality, not quantity. Nutrient-poor, refined sources of carbohydrates might refill glycogen, but that’s about all they do. If you need more glycogen, it’s far more advantageous to your health and your performance to get it through nutrient-dense, whole sources of carbohydrate. To do otherwise is just missing an easy opportunity for more micronutrients.

What are some starchy or carb-rich foods one can eat on Primal?

Potatoes. Long maligned on orthodox paleo, potatoes are totally fine on Primal. If you cook, then cool them, they’ll generate resistant starch, a prebiotic that feeds healthy gut bacteria. And the basic white potato is far more nutritious than most people claim. It’s high in potassium, magnesium, and it’s even a source of complete protein.

Sweet potatoes. Purple, white, orange—they’re all good. If you’re putting your body through the wringer, eat purple sweet potatoes; the polyphenols offer protection against exercise-induced oxidative stress.

Bananas. Eat ’em ripe and you’ll get a big dose of glucose. Eat ’em on the greener side and you’ll get a big dose of resistant starch. Either way, you get the potassium—a crucial electrolyte.

Plantains. You’ve probably had them at a Cuban or Jamaican restaurant. You loved them, didn’t you? Get yourself to a Caribbean market and buy some plantains, gently sauté them in a little fat, and eat with some good sour cream on the side. Your glycogen-starved muscles will thank you.

Rice. Pure glucose. Little in the way of micronutrients, but you can amend that by cooking the rice in bone broth, adding trace mineral drops to the cooking liquid, and cooking and cooling the rice to increase the resistant starch content.

Legumes (if tolerated). Check out my recent post explaining why I changed my stance. Excellent sources of fiber, minerals, and phytonutrients (particularly the colorful ones). Plus, legume protein, while not complete, can supplement and augment the animal protein you eat.

Dairy. Lactose is half glucose, half galactose; a similar mix was recently shown to enhance glycogen repletion after exercise. And milk drinking improves muscle protein synthesis after exercise and performance during exercise. Dairy also provides protein and calcium, which you need to stem the exercise-induced increase in parathyroid hormone and to strengthen your bones.

By now, it’s clear that you can eat as many carbs as you need on a Primal eating plan. There’s nothing stopping you. You won’t butt up against any rigid ideology.

However, there are some things to keep in mind before you start mainlining Japanese sweet potatoes.

Once replenished, muscle glycogen doesn’t disappear. If you refill your glycogen stores with a huge post-workout sweet potato, walking the dog, playing with your kids, or going shopping will barely budge your muscle glycogen. When the next workout rolls around, you’ll be ready.

Carb cycling is an option. Eat high carb on training days, low carb on rest days. It works for elite athletes’ performance just as well as around-the-clock high-carb.

I can’t tell anyone what to do. I can give good information that represents the science as I understand it, and the rest is up to you. And I always recommended an N=1 experiment. Take careful note of of how many carbs you ate on any given day, when you ate them, and how you felt, performed and slept. See what you notice.

For what it’s worth, I have it on very good authority that you can get enough carbs while staying Primal to support and improve your performance in CrossFit.

Thanks for reading, everyone. Stay tuned for the next installment of the series next week.

Want to make fat loss easier? Try the Definitive Guide for Troubleshooting Weight Loss for free here.

[watsonrodriquezie]

CrossFit’s Criticism: How Do I Eat Enough Carbs on Primal?

By far the single most common criticism levied against paleo by CrossFitters is that it’s too damn difficult to eat enough carbs to maintain performance during workouts. There is definitely truth there.

First, let’s establish something. Do CrossFitters indeed need more carbs than your average Primal bear?

Yes.

CrossFit workouts are intense. Your muscles need fuel to support intense movements, and they need it immediately and repeatedly. Glycogen just works better for that. It’s a matter of logistics. Glycogen is right there in the muscle, ready to go. It’s settled, sedentary, tethered. The fatty acids we burn are unencumbered, nomadic, going where they’re needed. That’s why we call them free fatty acids.

Furthermore, glycogen requires less oxygen to burn than fat. As your average CrossFit workout has you out of breath within the first minute or two, glycogen is a CrossFitter’s best friend.

If you don’t believe me, perhaps this 2016 study will convince you. It was a unique one because they took actual CrossFitters following a moderate-low-carb diet (around 200-ish grams per day) and separated them into two groups. One group stayed moderate-low, the other bumped their intake up to 400-500+ grams per day. Both maintained normal 3 on, 1 off CrossFit training schedules. They gave performance tests before and after the diet shift, using the Rahoi WOD (as many rounds as possible in 12 minutes of 12 box jumps, 6 95-lb thrusters, 6 bar-facing burpees). The higher carb group saw bigger improvements than the moderate carb group—an 11.1% improvement vs a 4.5% improvement.

Clearly, both groups were able to improve performance. However, if performance is your PRIMARY goal, then more (especially quality) carbs are likely to help. I’ll cover more on goals in a future post….

But isn’t Primal low-carb?

Standard Primal defaults to lower carb because it’s enough for most people. If you take a look at the Primal Blueprint Carb Curve, you’ll notice that 150 grams/day is the recommended level for people interested in maintaining body weight and supporting an active lifestyle. As anyone with a decent head on their shoulders, a cursory knowledge of how fat, carbs, and protein work, and functioning eyes can tell you, the vast majority of the population has no business consuming a high-carb diet. Few people do the type of work that requires “carb-loading.” As a result, 150 grams is plenty for your average man or woman.

Many of my readers got into Primal looking to lose weight, and low-carb, high-fat is the simplest, most effective way for most people to do that. 

I’m doing a keto experiment right now, and I’ve got a keto book coming out in a few months that will talk more about that choice and the science behind it. Personally, I run best on high-fat. It works for my goals, desires, and predilections. 

But the beauty of this way of life is that what I or anyone else eats does not determine what you “have to” eat.

Primal’s flexible, remember?

Allow me to dispense with some common misconceptions about Primal eating and carbohydrates that CrossFitters might hold:

We’re not against carbs. Carbs are an elective source of calories to be divvied out according to training volume, performance goals, and individual variation in tolerance/desire. If you’re regularly engaging in CrossFit WODS or other types of anaerobic activity (e.g. HIIT, sprinting, heavy lifting, mid-to-high intensity endurance training, sports like soccer, basketball, football), you should probably eat around 100 extra grams per hour of anaerobic output. If I come off as a carb basher, it’s only because I assume that most people aren’t doing the kind of activity that warrants carb-loading. CrossFitters are not those people. They can use the carbs.

We don’t carb-load with kale. All those horror stories of paleo CrossFitters trying to replenish glycogen by eating four pounds of broccoli in a single sitting? That doesn’t happen on Primal. Around here, above ground vegetables—leafy greens, cruciferous vegetables, summer squash, mushrooms, asparagus, and other non-starchy plant matter—are fair game. They don’t “count” against your carb intake, either because it’s more fiber than glucose or because it takes more glucose to digest than it provides.

We’re more concerned with carb quality, not quantity. Nutrient-poor, refined sources of carbohydrates might refill glycogen, but that’s about all they do. If you need more glycogen, it’s far more advantageous to your health and your performance to get it through nutrient-dense, whole sources of carbohydrate. To do otherwise is just missing an easy opportunity for more micronutrients.

What are some starchy or carb-rich foods one can eat on Primal?

Potatoes. Long maligned on orthodox paleo, potatoes are totally fine on Primal. If you cook, then cool them, they’ll generate resistant starch, a prebiotic that feeds healthy gut bacteria. And the basic white potato is far more nutritious than most people claim. It’s high in potassium, magnesium, and it’s even a source of complete protein.

Sweet potatoes. Purple, white, orange—they’re all good. If you’re putting your body through the wringer, eat purple sweet potatoes; the polyphenols offer protection against exercise-induced oxidative stress.

Bananas. Eat ’em ripe and you’ll get a big dose of glucose. Eat ’em on the greener side and you’ll get a big dose of resistant starch. Either way, you get the potassium—a crucial electrolyte.

Plantains. You’ve probably had them at a Cuban or Jamaican restaurant. You loved them, didn’t you? Get yourself to a Caribbean market and buy some plantains, gently sauté them in a little fat, and eat with some good sour cream on the side. Your glycogen-starved muscles will thank you.

Rice. Pure glucose. Little in the way of micronutrients, but you can amend that by cooking the rice in bone broth, adding trace mineral drops to the cooking liquid, and cooking and cooling the rice to increase the resistant starch content.

Legumes (if tolerated). Check out my recent post explaining why I changed my stance. Excellent sources of fiber, minerals, and phytonutrients (particularly the colorful ones). Plus, legume protein, while not complete, can supplement and augment the animal protein you eat.

Dairy. Lactose is half glucose, half galactose; a similar mix was recently shown to enhance glycogen repletion after exercise. And milk drinking improves muscle protein synthesis after exercise and performance during exercise. Dairy also provides protein and calcium, which you need to stem the exercise-induced increase in parathyroid hormone and to strengthen your bones.

By now, it’s clear that you can eat as many carbs as you need on a Primal eating plan. There’s nothing stopping you. You won’t butt up against any rigid ideology.

However, there are some things to keep in mind before you start mainlining Japanese sweet potatoes.

Once replenished, muscle glycogen doesn’t disappear. If you refill your glycogen stores with a huge post-workout sweet potato, walking the dog, playing with your kids, or going shopping will barely budge your muscle glycogen. When the next workout rolls around, you’ll be ready.

Carb cycling is an option. Eat high carb on training days, low carb on rest days. It works for elite athletes’ performance just as well as around-the-clock high-carb.

I can’t tell anyone what to do. I can give good information that represents the science as I understand it, and the rest is up to you. And I always recommended an N=1 experiment. Take careful note of of how many carbs you ate on any given day, when you ate them, and how you felt, performed and slept. See what you notice.

For what it’s worth, I have it on very good authority that you can get enough carbs while staying Primal to support and improve your performance in CrossFit.

Thanks for reading, everyone. Stay tuned for the next installment of the series next week.

Want to make fat loss easier? Try the Definitive Guide for Troubleshooting Weight Loss for free here.

[fishermariawo]

CrossFit’s Criticism: How Do I Eat Enough Carbs on Primal?

By far the single most common criticism levied against paleo by CrossFitters is that it’s too damn difficult to eat enough carbs to maintain performance during workouts. There is definitely truth there.

First, let’s establish something. Do CrossFitters indeed need more carbs than your average Primal bear?

Yes.

CrossFit workouts are intense. Your muscles need fuel to support intense movements, and they need it immediately and repeatedly. Glycogen just works better for that. It’s a matter of logistics. Glycogen is right there in the muscle, ready to go. It’s settled, sedentary, tethered. The fatty acids we burn are unencumbered, nomadic, going where they’re needed. That’s why we call them free fatty acids.

Furthermore, glycogen requires less oxygen to burn than fat. As your average CrossFit workout has you out of breath within the first minute or two, glycogen is a CrossFitter’s best friend.

If you don’t believe me, perhaps this 2016 study will convince you. It was a unique one because they took actual CrossFitters following a moderate-low-carb diet (around 200-ish grams per day) and separated them into two groups. One group stayed moderate-low, the other bumped their intake up to 400-500+ grams per day. Both maintained normal 3 on, 1 off CrossFit training schedules. They gave performance tests before and after the diet shift, using the Rahoi WOD (as many rounds as possible in 12 minutes of 12 box jumps, 6 95-lb thrusters, 6 bar-facing burpees). The higher carb group saw bigger improvements than the moderate carb group—an 11.1% improvement vs a 4.5% improvement.

Clearly, both groups were able to improve performance. However, if performance is your PRIMARY goal, then more (especially quality) carbs are likely to help. I’ll cover more on goals in a future post….

But isn’t Primal low-carb?

Standard Primal defaults to lower carb because it’s enough for most people. If you take a look at the Primal Blueprint Carb Curve, you’ll notice that 150 grams/day is the recommended level for people interested in maintaining body weight and supporting an active lifestyle. As anyone with a decent head on their shoulders, a cursory knowledge of how fat, carbs, and protein work, and functioning eyes can tell you, the vast majority of the population has no business consuming a high-carb diet. Few people do the type of work that requires “carb-loading.” As a result, 150 grams is plenty for your average man or woman.

Many of my readers got into Primal looking to lose weight, and low-carb, high-fat is the simplest, most effective way for most people to do that. 

I’m doing a keto experiment right now, and I’ve got a keto book coming out in a few months that will talk more about that choice and the science behind it. Personally, I run best on high-fat. It works for my goals, desires, and predilections. 

But the beauty of this way of life is that what I or anyone else eats does not determine what you “have to” eat.

Primal’s flexible, remember?

Allow me to dispense with some common misconceptions about Primal eating and carbohydrates that CrossFitters might hold:

We’re not against carbs. Carbs are an elective source of calories to be divvied out according to training volume, performance goals, and individual variation in tolerance/desire. If you’re regularly engaging in CrossFit WODS or other types of anaerobic activity (e.g. HIIT, sprinting, heavy lifting, mid-to-high intensity endurance training, sports like soccer, basketball, football), you should probably eat around 100 extra grams per hour of anaerobic output. If I come off as a carb basher, it’s only because I assume that most people aren’t doing the kind of activity that warrants carb-loading. CrossFitters are not those people. They can use the carbs.

We don’t carb-load with kale. All those horror stories of paleo CrossFitters trying to replenish glycogen by eating four pounds of broccoli in a single sitting? That doesn’t happen on Primal. Around here, above ground vegetables—leafy greens, cruciferous vegetables, summer squash, mushrooms, asparagus, and other non-starchy plant matter—are fair game. They don’t “count” against your carb intake, either because it’s more fiber than glucose or because it takes more glucose to digest than it provides.

We’re more concerned with carb quality, not quantity. Nutrient-poor, refined sources of carbohydrates might refill glycogen, but that’s about all they do. If you need more glycogen, it’s far more advantageous to your health and your performance to get it through nutrient-dense, whole sources of carbohydrate. To do otherwise is just missing an easy opportunity for more micronutrients.

What are some starchy or carb-rich foods one can eat on Primal?

Potatoes. Long maligned on orthodox paleo, potatoes are totally fine on Primal. If you cook, then cool them, they’ll generate resistant starch, a prebiotic that feeds healthy gut bacteria. And the basic white potato is far more nutritious than most people claim. It’s high in potassium, magnesium, and it’s even a source of complete protein.

Sweet potatoes. Purple, white, orange—they’re all good. If you’re putting your body through the wringer, eat purple sweet potatoes; the polyphenols offer protection against exercise-induced oxidative stress.

Bananas. Eat ’em ripe and you’ll get a big dose of glucose. Eat ’em on the greener side and you’ll get a big dose of resistant starch. Either way, you get the potassium—a crucial electrolyte.

Plantains. You’ve probably had them at a Cuban or Jamaican restaurant. You loved them, didn’t you? Get yourself to a Caribbean market and buy some plantains, gently sauté them in a little fat, and eat with some good sour cream on the side. Your glycogen-starved muscles will thank you.

Rice. Pure glucose. Little in the way of micronutrients, but you can amend that by cooking the rice in bone broth, adding trace mineral drops to the cooking liquid, and cooking and cooling the rice to increase the resistant starch content.

Legumes (if tolerated). Check out my recent post explaining why I changed my stance. Excellent sources of fiber, minerals, and phytonutrients (particularly the colorful ones). Plus, legume protein, while not complete, can supplement and augment the animal protein you eat.

Dairy. Lactose is half glucose, half galactose; a similar mix was recently shown to enhance glycogen repletion after exercise. And milk drinking improves muscle protein synthesis after exercise and performance during exercise. Dairy also provides protein and calcium, which you need to stem the exercise-induced increase in parathyroid hormone and to strengthen your bones.

By now, it’s clear that you can eat as many carbs as you need on a Primal eating plan. There’s nothing stopping you. You won’t butt up against any rigid ideology.

However, there are some things to keep in mind before you start mainlining Japanese sweet potatoes.

Once replenished, muscle glycogen doesn’t disappear. If you refill your glycogen stores with a huge post-workout sweet potato, walking the dog, playing with your kids, or going shopping will barely budge your muscle glycogen. When the next workout rolls around, you’ll be ready.

Carb cycling is an option. Eat high carb on training days, low carb on rest days. It works for elite athletes’ performance just as well as around-the-clock high-carb.

I can’t tell anyone what to do. I can give good information that represents the science as I understand it, and the rest is up to you. And I always recommended an N=1 experiment. Take careful note of of how many carbs you ate on any given day, when you ate them, and how you felt, performed and slept. See what you notice.

For what it’s worth, I have it on very good authority that you can get enough carbs while staying Primal to support and improve your performance in CrossFit.

Thanks for reading, everyone. Stay tuned for the next installment of the series next week.

Want to make fat loss easier? Try the Definitive Guide for Troubleshooting Weight Loss for free here.

[cynthiamwashington]

CrossFit’s Criticism: How Do I Eat Enough Carbs on Primal?

By far the single most common criticism levied against paleo by CrossFitters is that it’s too damn difficult to eat enough carbs to maintain performance during workouts. There is definitely truth there.

First, let’s establish something. Do CrossFitters indeed need more carbs than your average Primal bear?

Yes.

CrossFit workouts are intense. Your muscles need fuel to support intense movements, and they need it immediately and repeatedly. Glycogen just works better for that. It’s a matter of logistics. Glycogen is right there in the muscle, ready to go. It’s settled, sedentary, tethered. The fatty acids we burn are unencumbered, nomadic, going where they’re needed. That’s why we call them free fatty acids.

Furthermore, glycogen requires less oxygen to burn than fat. As your average CrossFit workout has you out of breath within the first minute or two, glycogen is a CrossFitter’s best friend.

If you don’t believe me, perhaps this 2016 study will convince you. It was a unique one because they took actual CrossFitters following a moderate-low-carb diet (around 200-ish grams per day) and separated them into two groups. One group stayed moderate-low, the other bumped their intake up to 400-500+ grams per day. Both maintained normal 3 on, 1 off CrossFit training schedules. They gave performance tests before and after the diet shift, using the Rahoi WOD (as many rounds as possible in 12 minutes of 12 box jumps, 6 95-lb thrusters, 6 bar-facing burpees). The higher carb group saw bigger improvements than the moderate carb group—an 11.1% improvement vs a 4.5% improvement.

Clearly, both groups were able to improve performance. However, if performance is your PRIMARY goal, then more (especially quality) carbs are likely to help. I’ll cover more on goals in a future post….

But isn’t Primal low-carb?

Standard Primal defaults to lower carb because it’s enough for most people. If you take a look at the Primal Blueprint Carb Curve, you’ll notice that 150 grams/day is the recommended level for people interested in maintaining body weight and supporting an active lifestyle. As anyone with a decent head on their shoulders, a cursory knowledge of how fat, carbs, and protein work, and functioning eyes can tell you, the vast majority of the population has no business consuming a high-carb diet. Few people do the type of work that requires “carb-loading.” As a result, 150 grams is plenty for your average man or woman.

Many of my readers got into Primal looking to lose weight, and low-carb, high-fat is the simplest, most effective way for most people to do that. 

I’m doing a keto experiment right now, and I’ve got a keto book coming out in a few months that will talk more about that choice and the science behind it. Personally, I run best on high-fat. It works for my goals, desires, and predilections. 

But the beauty of this way of life is that what I or anyone else eats does not determine what you “have to” eat.

Primal’s flexible, remember?

Allow me to dispense with some common misconceptions about Primal eating and carbohydrates that CrossFitters might hold:

We’re not against carbs. Carbs are an elective source of calories to be divvied out according to training volume, performance goals, and individual variation in tolerance/desire. If you’re regularly engaging in CrossFit WODS or other types of anaerobic activity (e.g. HIIT, sprinting, heavy lifting, mid-to-high intensity endurance training, sports like soccer, basketball, football), you should probably eat around 100 extra grams per hour of anaerobic output. If I come off as a carb basher, it’s only because I assume that most people aren’t doing the kind of activity that warrants carb-loading. CrossFitters are not those people. They can use the carbs.

We don’t carb-load with kale. All those horror stories of paleo CrossFitters trying to replenish glycogen by eating four pounds of broccoli in a single sitting? That doesn’t happen on Primal. Around here, above ground vegetables—leafy greens, cruciferous vegetables, summer squash, mushrooms, asparagus, and other non-starchy plant matter—are fair game. They don’t “count” against your carb intake, either because it’s more fiber than glucose or because it takes more glucose to digest than it provides.

We’re more concerned with carb quality, not quantity. Nutrient-poor, refined sources of carbohydrates might refill glycogen, but that’s about all they do. If you need more glycogen, it’s far more advantageous to your health and your performance to get it through nutrient-dense, whole sources of carbohydrate. To do otherwise is just missing an easy opportunity for more micronutrients.

What are some starchy or carb-rich foods one can eat on Primal?

Potatoes. Long maligned on orthodox paleo, potatoes are totally fine on Primal. If you cook, then cool them, they’ll generate resistant starch, a prebiotic that feeds healthy gut bacteria. And the basic white potato is far more nutritious than most people claim. It’s high in potassium, magnesium, and it’s even a source of complete protein.

Sweet potatoes. Purple, white, orange—they’re all good. If you’re putting your body through the wringer, eat purple sweet potatoes; the polyphenols offer protection against exercise-induced oxidative stress.

Bananas. Eat ’em ripe and you’ll get a big dose of glucose. Eat ’em on the greener side and you’ll get a big dose of resistant starch. Either way, you get the potassium—a crucial electrolyte.

Plantains. You’ve probably had them at a Cuban or Jamaican restaurant. You loved them, didn’t you? Get yourself to a Caribbean market and buy some plantains, gently sauté them in a little fat, and eat with some good sour cream on the side. Your glycogen-starved muscles will thank you.

Rice. Pure glucose. Little in the way of micronutrients, but you can amend that by cooking the rice in bone broth, adding trace mineral drops to the cooking liquid, and cooking and cooling the rice to increase the resistant starch content.

Legumes (if tolerated). Check out my recent post explaining why I changed my stance. Excellent sources of fiber, minerals, and phytonutrients (particularly the colorful ones). Plus, legume protein, while not complete, can supplement and augment the animal protein you eat.

Dairy. Lactose is half glucose, half galactose; a similar mix was recently shown to enhance glycogen repletion after exercise. And milk drinking improves muscle protein synthesis after exercise and performance during exercise. Dairy also provides protein and calcium, which you need to stem the exercise-induced increase in parathyroid hormone and to strengthen your bones.

By now, it’s clear that you can eat as many carbs as you need on a Primal eating plan. There’s nothing stopping you. You won’t butt up against any rigid ideology.

However, there are some things to keep in mind before you start mainlining Japanese sweet potatoes.

Once replenished, muscle glycogen doesn’t disappear. If you refill your glycogen stores with a huge post-workout sweet potato, walking the dog, playing with your kids, or going shopping will barely budge your muscle glycogen. When the next workout rolls around, you’ll be ready.

Carb cycling is an option. Eat high carb on training days, low carb on rest days. It works for elite athletes’ performance just as well as around-the-clock high-carb.

I can’t tell anyone what to do. I can give good information that represents the science as I understand it, and the rest is up to you. And I always recommended an N=1 experiment. Take careful note of of how many carbs you ate on any given day, when you ate them, and how you felt, performed and slept. See what you notice.

For what it’s worth, I have it on very good authority that you can get enough carbs while staying Primal to support and improve your performance in CrossFit.

Thanks for reading, everyone. Stay tuned for the next installment of the series next week.

Want to make fat loss easier? Try the Definitive Guide for Troubleshooting Weight Loss for free here.

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