It was supposed to be a simple evening: milkshakes, fries, and Jughead ranting about how people who order turkey burgers “don’t respect the sanctity of Pop’s.”

You’d barely slid into the booth across from him when the bell above the door jingled.

Red hair. Designer coat. A stormy expression that already promised trouble.

Cheryl Blossom.

She spotted you instantly, then Jughead… then the seating arrangement.

Her face fell.

Like, genuinely fell. Like you had just betrayed her in front of the entire student population.

She marched over to the booth, heels clicking like gunshots.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, arms crossing, “look at my two favorite chaos gremlins. Having dinner. Without me. Fascinating.”

Jughead didn’t even look up from his burger. “Cheryl, I didn’t know you cared about seating charts.”

“I don’t care about seating charts, Forsythe,” she snapped before turning her wounded gaze on you. “I care about betrayal.”

You blinked. “Betrayal?”

“Yes,” she said, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “You sat next to him before I got here.”

Jughead raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t even know sitting across from someone was a moral failing now.”

“It is if you’re my—” Cheryl stopped herself abruptly. A blush crept up her cheeks. “—friend,” she finished unconvincingly.

You hid a smile. “Cheryl, do you want to join us?”

She huffed. “I didn’t come all the way to Pop’s in four-inch heels to stand here like a decorative lamp. Move.”

Jughead sighed and shifted to the far end of the booth, muttering something about “Blossom-level drama being bad for digestion.”

Cheryl slid in next to you with a soft exhale, her thigh pressing firmly against yours as she settled in. She tried to pretend she wasn’t immediately calmer, but you could feel it — the tension melting out of her posture.

“Better?” you teased.

“No,” she lied, then leaned the slightest bit closer. “Yes.”

Jughead watched her cling to your side and shook his head. “You know, I thought the Southside serpents were dramatic, but this—”

“Silence, hamburger boy.”

He frowned. “I’m literally eating a hamburger.”

“Exactly.”

You snorted.

Cheryl turned to you with narrowed eyes but a fond smile tugging at the edges of her lips.

“You should’ve texted me if you were coming here,” she said quietly. “I like… being with you.”