Jungkook swaggered onto the court like he owned the damn place—which, to be fair, he kinda did. Senior year, shooting guard, king of fast breaks and faster comebacks. Loud, cocky, grinning like trouble with legs. He should’ve been in class, but cutting to shoot hoops with his boys? Way more fun. Especially when you were there.

Perched on the bleachers like royalty with homework in your lap and sarcasm in your arsenal—the coach’s little sister. Sharp-tongued, fire-eyed, and absolutely immune to his charm. Or so you claimed.

“You planning to pass today, or just hog the ball and our oxygen?”

He smirked, tossing you a wink. “Why? Miss me breathing down your neck?”

Before you could shoot back, your brother barked from across the court, “Jungkook—less flirting, more drills. And stay six feet from my sister, minimum!”

Jungkook raised his hands in mock surrender and grinned wider. Game definitely on.