Chapter 33

The thing about Lisa and Jennie was that they couldn’t do anything normally.

Not eating.
Not walking.
And definitely not sports.

“Last one to the couch is a loser,” Lisa called out one lazy Sunday afternoon, already halfway sprinting across the living room.

Jennie gasped, scandalized. “Yah! You started before counting!”

“Skill issue,” Lisa shot back, laughing as she dove dramatically onto the couch.

Jennie arrived a second later, collapsing right on top of her, knocking the breath out of Lisa in a soft oof.

“That doesn’t count,” Jennie huffed, cheeks puffed. “Rematch.”

Lisa grinned up at her, eyes sparkling. “You just don’t like losing.”

“I don’t lose,” Jennie said, completely serious.

Lisa snorted. “Okay, princess. What’s next? Badminton? Basketball? Arm wrestling?”

Jennie narrowed her eyes, already standing up. “All of them.”

—

It started harmless.

A badminton set in the backyard.
A friendly match.

Keyword: friendly.

“Best of three?” Lisa suggested, twirling the racket confidently.

Jennie smirked. “Best of five.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Scared you’ll lose too fast?”

Jennie gasped. “You’re so annoying!”

Game one went to Jennie.

Game two went to Lisa.

Game three turned into chaos.

They weren’t even keeping proper score anymore—just arguing over every point.

“That was out!”

“It was in!”

“You’re blind!”

“You’re biased!”

“You’re cheating!”

Lisa burst into laughter mid-match, dropping her racket as Jennie dramatically protested.

“You’re impossible,” Jennie groaned, but she was smiling, breathless, strands of hair sticking to her face.

Lisa walked over, gently brushing them aside. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Jennie’s entire argument vanished.

“…That’s not fair,” she muttered.

Lisa leaned closer. “Want me to let you win?”

Jennie shoved her lightly. “Never.”

—

Next came basketball.

A tiny hoop in their driveway that somehow became the center of their world.

“First to ten,” Jennie declared.

Lisa spun the ball on her finger. “You’re going down.”

“You wish.”

Lisa scored first.

Jennie scored twice after that.

Then Lisa caught up.

Then Jennie pulled ahead again.

Every basket came with trash talk.

“Too easy!”

“Lucky shot!”

“Defense, Lalisa, defense!”

“Focus, Kim Jennie!”

At 9–9, they both paused, breathing hard, staring at each other like it was the final game of a championship.

Lisa dribbled slowly. “Last point decides everything.”

Jennie crossed her arms. “Don’t miss.”

Lisa smirked, then—without warning—ran forward.

Jennie moved to block her, but Lisa suddenly stopped and passed the ball—

Right into Jennie’s hands.

Jennie blinked. “What—”

“Shoot,” Lisa said softly.

Jennie hesitated… then smiled.

She took the shot.

Swish.

Silence.

Jennie turned to her, eyes wide. “I won.”

Lisa nodded, smiling like she’d just won too. “You did.”

Jennie squinted. “You let me win.”

Lisa shrugged. “Maybe.”

Jennie walked closer, poking her chest. “That doesn’t count.”

“Then we’ll play again,” Lisa said easily.

Jennie huffed… but her lips curled. “Fine.”

—

By the time they got inside, they were both exhausted.

Collapsed on the floor, side by side.

“Next time,” Jennie mumbled, staring at the ceiling, “I’m winning for real.”

Lisa turned her head, watching her fondly. “You always win.”

Jennie frowned slightly. “That’s not true.”

Lisa reached over, intertwining their fingers. “It is for me.”

Jennie blinked, then looked away, cheeks turning pink.

“…You’re so cheesy.”

Lisa grinned. “And you love it.”

Jennie squeezed her hand.

“…Maybe.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“Rematch tomorrow?” Jennie asked.

Lisa laughed softly. “Of course.”

Because for them, it was never really about winning.

It was about the way they laughed in between points,
the way they argued just to hear each other talk,
and the way, no matter who “won,”

they always ended up tangled together at the end.