Rivals

"Why are you following me? It's annoying." I clicked my tongue to emphasise the point. Jungkook remains unfazed at my words, silently walking beside me with his hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his fancy jacket. Occasionally, he would whistle, glance at me secretly, all the while kicking some rocks along to my side to gain my attention.

I would realize how much our attires differed. While I adorned my cool ass bohemian sweatpants going grocery shopping with my mom's slippers, he's the exact opposite. Jungkook wore expensive clothes, and his shoes looked brand new, even. I just cringed whenever he stepped onto the dirty surface, the soles of his new shoes must be filthy now.

Pairs of eyes were fixed onto us. I must look like some lame mom bringing her kid to the supermarket.

"Can I taste your cooking later?" Jungkook's face popped up right in front of me, causing me to stop in alarm. He was leaning down, his face inches apart from mine. My eyes darted to the lollipop he was sucking , his lips dyed red and glossy.

He had taken off his jacket, and it was hung over his shoulders. I absolutely, 100% did not notice the flexed biceps under his white shirt as he stretched his arm.

"And why do you think you have the privilege to taste my food?" I retorted, hiding my flusteredness under my pokerface. Jungkook's reddish lips curved up into a smirk, and he stands upright, eyes still locked intently on mine. He wastes no time intertwining his hands into mine, dragging me along the path.

I struggled under his grasp, but he held on firmly. Eventually I gave up and followed

Jungkook shoots me a

grocery basket in my hands. Jungkook walked

behind my back and reaching towards my hand. My heart stopped temporarily as he back hugged me, our bodies

the corners of his lips turned

replied quietly, turning away to avoid his staring. Shit, this is harder than I

_______________________________________

down to take off his sneakers. I kicked off the slippers

table. Jungkook's eyes lit

standing behind the kitchen counter. He leans forward, elbows propped on the counter and facing me.

no, this is

I glared at him, a knife held up in my hand.