[There's something so ... well, the first word that would come to mind for Veronica is simple, but that's not right at all. No, a better word is idyllic. There's something so idyllic about kissing Archie Andrews. Veronica knows that she's the prototypical big city girl who's found herself enamored with the small town boy who's just a little too sheltered to know the ugliness of the world. It's a trope that she'd only like in fiction when it's done right. Living it out, on the other hand, is something else. It's hard to explain.
Maybe it's because it's something outside of those roles. They both want to be good, but are considerably clumsy in their handling of that. Maybe it's something else. Veronica just knows that she connects with him on a level that almost scares her sometimes. She's the most sentimental person alive, and she knows exactly what sentiment flows into this bond.
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Maybe it's because it's something outside of those roles. They both want to be good, but are considerably clumsy in their handling of that. Maybe it's something else. Veronica just knows that she connects with him on a level that almost scares her sometimes. She's the most sentimental person alive, and she knows exactly what sentiment flows into this bond.
Veronica can't help but push an amused sound against his mouth when he says he missed kissing her, because that, too, is almost ... scripted. Perfect. But in that way where it's neither of those things. Archie's a walking cliché at times, but in the most earnest, well-meaning way possible. And she's okay with that.]
It was a very good idea to hit pause on this, [she says, mouth lingering over his. Veronica has zero intention of ending this.] It means ... that we can both hit play again now that we're ready. [Another cliché? Somehow, she can't help it.]