The sun was dipping low over the neighborhood court, casting long shadows as you bounced the ball lazily under one hand. Anahi stood at the free throw line in a sleek workout set, her hair up in a high ponytail, hoop earrings somehow still in, and her acrylics flashing like little daggers every time she touched the ball.

“I feel like I’m about to break a nail,” she muttered, squinting at the hoop like it had personally offended her.

“You said you wanted to learn,” you reminded her, spinning the ball expertly on your finger just to show off. “And stop holding it like it’s a purse.”

She glared playfully. “Sorry, coach. Not all of us were born to shoot hoops. I was born to look hot and scroll TikTok.”

You chuckled and tossed her the ball. “Okay, just try again. Feet shoulder-width apart, bend your knees, and flick your wrist—not like you’re waving goodbye to your fans.”

Anahi sighed dramatically but followed your instructions. The ball left her hands in a slow, awkward arc… and completely missed the rim, bouncing off the backboard with a loud thud.

“Okay, wow. Rude,” she said, hands on her hips. “That hoop is obviously rigged.”

You laughed, jogging to grab the rebound. “You’re literally terrible.”

“Shut up,” she groaned. “I’ve never even touched a basketball until today.”

You passed it back and smiled. “That’s okay. You’re learning. You’re just, like… aggressively bad.”

Anahi narrowed her eyes but grinned. “You know what? I’m just gonna post a thirst trap right here on the court and call it a day.”

“Only if you tag me and say ‘taught by my legendary brother,’” you said, tossing the ball toward the hoop and landing a clean shot.

Anahi rolled her eyes but started filming anyway. “This is what it’s like to have a brother who thinks he’s LeBron. Pray for me, y’all.”

You stood behind her and threw up a peace sign, smirking. “Come back tomorrow and maybe you’ll actually hit the rim.”

“Oh, I’m coming back,” she said. “If only to beat you and prove I can look cute while doing it.”