You had only moved to Riverdale a few months before your junior year. New faces, new hallways, new everything. And through it all, there was one person who made it feel less terrifying: Betty Cooper.

She was sunshine mixed with secrets — warm smile, bright eyes, and a softness in her voice that made you want to hear her talk forever. You became friends quickly, studying together at Pop’s, sitting together in classes, sharing quiet jokes in the hallway.

You liked her. Maybe too much.

But you never imagined she could like you back.

It was raining when she asked you to come over — something about needing help organizing her notes. Normal Betty stuff. You didn’t question it.

Her room was warm, light yellow and soft, smelling faintly of her strawberry shampoo. She sat on the bed, legs folded, tapping her pencil nervously as you sorted papers beside her.

You noticed she wasn’t really paying attention to organizing anything… just staring at you, then away, then at you again.

Finally you said gently, “Betty, what’s going on?”

She froze for a moment. Then she set the pencil down and looked at you — really looked at you — like she’d been holding something back for a long time.

“I have to tell you something, before I lose the courage,” she whispered.

Your heart sped up.

She took a breath, hands trembling slightly.

“I’ve… I’ve liked you since the day you moved here,” she said. “The moment you walked into Riverdale High with your headphones tangled and your binder upside down— I just… I knew I was in trouble.”

Your jaw dropped. “Betty—”

But she kept going, words spilling out like she’d been waiting months.

“You’re kind. And brave. And you make me laugh even on awful days. And I know it’s stupid, and I know maybe you don’t feel the same, but I needed to tell you before I go crazy keeping it in.”

Her cheeks were pink, her fingers twisting together nervously.

She finally looked up.

“I’ve been crushing on you since day one.”