small exchanges

Before Betty can overthink herself into a tailspin, they’re in her doorway. Still flustered, she flings her heels off into a corner and steps into her fluffy snowman slippers. Jughead watches the action, bemused. “Much better,” Betty sighs. “Cute,” Jughead grins. Betty flushes, and wishes he were saying it about her and not the snowmen. “The heels were great, too, though.” Something about the tenor of voice when he says that propels Betty to her desk in an effort not to melt.   She perches against her desk and turns the book over and over in her hands. Beside her, Jughead lifts the lid of the box and swears, much in the same way she had before.  or, Secret Santas and secrets. (and a small ode to the typewriter.)