You weren’t planning on making this a big deal.

You just wanted to do something nice for Cheryl — something small, sweet, something that said I care about you without actually saying it.

So you baked her cookies.

Chocolate chip. Warm. Soft in the middle. A little golden on the edges, just the way she liked them.

You placed them in a small tin, wrapped a red ribbon around it, and walked through the halls of Riverdale High feeling both confident and stupidly nervous.

You found Cheryl at her locker, adjusting her lipstick in the tiny mirror glued inside. She didn’t look when you approached — she didn’t have to.

“I can feel you staring at me,” she said, voice dripping with Blossom confidence. “What’s in the box? Is it a head? Is it Jughead’s head?”

You blinked. “Why would it be Jughead’s head?!”

She shrugged. “He annoys me.”

You sighed and held out the tin. “I made you cookies.”

Cheryl froze.

Actually froze.

Slowly — dramatically — she turned toward you. Her eyes softened in a way that made your knees weak.

“…You baked for me?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Just… thought you’d like them.”

Cheryl took the tin like it was an ancient relic discovered in a sacred temple. She cradled it carefully, almost reverently.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, “you baked for me.”