“C’mon, Jungkook.” Your dad sighed, meeting his best friend’s eyes with a pleading gaze.

“Look, I—”

“Just this once. Please. I really can’t get out of this meeting, the board would be upset.”

You were visiting your hometown for holidays. Tomorrow night, there was going to be a party in a town fifteen minutes away from your own—one that you had been invited to. Your dad was supposed to give you a ride home, but as always, there was some last-minute work emergency. So, Jungkook was his solution.

Jungkook frowned, crossing his large arms over his plaid torso.

“I got better things to do than chauffeur your little girl.” Jungkook shrugged.

That was, in fact, horribly untrue. His agenda for that night consisted of watching a movie and drinking a nice, cold beer.

“I’ll owe you one.” Your dad insisted.

Jungkook inhaled through his teeth.

The real reason he maintained his firm stance on not giving you a lift home was, really, a bundle of three smaller reasons.

One, ever since you turned eighteen you’ve made it painstakingly and increasingly clear you wanted to get in his pants.

Two, you were a huge flirt.

Three, he wasn’t so sure he could keep on resisting. But he had to. For god’s sake, what kind of a friend would fuck his friend’s daughter?

Hopefully, not him.

“I–” Jungkook began but was shortly interrupted.

"I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You’re picking up my kid. She has no one else, and I don’t trust her friends to be sober enough to get her home without getting in some kind of drunk-driving accident."

He levelled Jungkook with a firm look.

Jungkook took a second to process this.

He rubbed a hand over his face, squeezed his eyes shut, and then met his friend’s stare with a sigh.

“Fine.” Came through gritted teeth.

Your dad patted him firmly on the shoulder. “Thank you.” He chirped happily.

———

And so, there Jungkook was.

Leaning against his car, idly spinning his keys around his finger, and staring at the front door of the party.

Several kids filtered out; stumbling into their cars with disgruntled parents waiting in the driver’s seats, or with their arms interlocked and their sides almost melded together, giggling off to god-knows-where.

When you came out, you were part of the latter group.

Some blonde-haired boy—tall, but not too tall—was holding you close to him with a stupid smile on his reddened face. You mirrored it with a stupider smile of your own.

He whispered something into your ear that made you laugh and was promptly leading you in the opposite direction of Jungkook. But Jungkook was both keen and quick to intervene.

“Going somewhere?” Jungkook called out, crossing his arms.

You froze and turned your head to lock eyes with none other than Jeon Jungkook. Your neighbour, your dad’s best friend, and more importantly, your long-time crush.

“What are you doing here?” You arched a brow, slipping away from your friend and nearing him and his car.

Your friend followed after you and settled by your side, resting an arm that hung a little too comfortably around your shoulder.

“Evening to you, too, sweetheart. And to answer your question, I’m picking you up.” Jungkook stated simply, then tossed a quick surveying look to the guy next to you. “Who’s this blondie over here?”

“Daniel.” Blondie blinked and stuck out his free hand, glancing at you. Under his breath, he muttered, “you told me your dad couldn’t give you a ride.”

“He’s not my–” You started, but were immediately cut off by Jungkook.

“Get your hand off the girl, will you, David?” Jungkook narrowed his eyes at him, a dangerous look underlying his seemingly casual tone.

Daniel immediately did so, going so far as to step a pace back from you.

“It’s Daniel.” He coughed awkwardly. Then added, “sir.”

Jungkook ignored him—or, at least, didn’t show any sign that he had heard his correction—and turned around.

“Time to go home, young lady.” Jungkook said lowly. He opened the front passenger door, and upon finding you in the same spot as you were standing before he had turned his back, continued with, “that wasn’t a suggestion.”

You mumbled a quick ‘goodbye’ to Daniel and hopped inside the car.

“Good girl.” Jungkook sighed, closed the door with a bit too much force and walked around the front of the car. He spared a few seconds to glare at your friend before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Suddenly, the engine thrummed to life and the two of you were headed down the quiet streets in the late hours of the night. 

The air had been thick with a tension neither of you could describe and was further blanketed by a heavy silence broken only by the hum of the engine, the faint skid of tyres, and your own rapid heartbeat pounding insistently in your ears.

Not five minutes had passed before Jungkook spoke up.

“Who was he?” Jungkook asked casually, his eyes still focused on the dimly-lit road ahead.

You sank further into the leather of the front passenger seat.

“A friend.” You shrugged, not looking over at him.

Jungkook hummed as he carefully took a turn into a side street, the car slowly crunching over loose gravel. His grip on the wheel remained firm, but his eyes flickered over to you.

“Your daddy let you out of the house like that?”

You huffed out a short laugh and looked down at your choice of partywear; a low-cut top and some tight-fitting jeans. Not necessarily the most vulgar apparel, in your humble opinion.

“No, actually, he called the cops on me for indecent exposure, but I managed to escape.” You spat out sarcastically.

Jungkook didn’t find your comment funny. Or rather, there was no indication on his unwavering poker face that he had found it funny. Or was experiencing any emotion at all other than slightly tired.

The two of you sank into yet another silence.

“I’m not a kid, Jungkook.” You said after a minute or two.

“Like hell, you ain’t.” Jungkook scoffed.

“I’m in college, I can dress how I like.”

“Is ‘how you like’ a prostitute?”

You turned to face him fully, your arms crossed and your brows furrowed.

“That’s both slightly misogynistic and completely off-base, don’t you think?” You snorted, then smiled smugly to yourself. “Plus. Admit it, you like it.”

That threw him off-guard.

For the first time that evening, Jungkook showed a sliver of emotion. His eyes widened slightly as he opened his mouth, quickly closing it, and then opening it again to say, “what the fuck are you going on about, kid?”

“You were definitely staring at my tits.”

Jungkook was even more taken aback. He may have snuck a peek at your cleavage, but in his head, it was very discreet. But, fuck, did they sit perfectly.

“You’re drunk.” Jungkook shook his head.

“You didn’t deny it.” Your smile grew. “But yes, I am a little tipsy. Not drunk, though.”

“I noticed.”

“Just say the word, Jeon, and I’ll flash you the twins anytime you like.” You leaned over the control arm, your eyes travelling along his tensing frame.

“Oh my fucking god.” Jungkook breathed. He kept his eyes fixed on the road but released a hand from the steering wheel to rub the lower half of his face.

This. This was why he didn’t want to do this favour for your father. You were already a handful while sober. And you had been a handful ever since you started college—making throwaway yet entirely flirtatious comments, pressing your tits against his chest a bit too much while you lingered after a hug, and wearing the tightest clothes known to man.

And now drunk? You were literally throwing yourself at him.

The worst part was that he couldn’t control his body’s reaction to you. In fact, his jeans felt a little tighter the closer you got.

Fuck, he was almost twice your age and here he was getting a hard-on—

Jungkook was suddenly violently snatched from his internal monologue when he felt your hand ghost over his lap.

“That’s ‘cause of me, isn’t it…? I can help with that.” You whispered, your tone almost pleading as your fingers gently traced over the front zipper of his jeans.

“Honey, sit back down.” Jungkook said slowly. His eyes remained intently glued onto the road.

Oh lord, he was fucked.

“Jungkook,” You practically whined.

Oh lord, he was so fucked.

“You’re drunk,” Jungkook said, more to himself than you as some sort of ill-justified dismissal.

“Tipsy.” You corrected helpfully, yet not retreating back to your seat. “But not really.”

Before he knew it, Jungkook was pulling up in front of your driveway, his grip on the steering wheel deathly tight.

Jungkook sighed. “You’re home.”

You glanced out the window disappointedly.

“No, shit.” You replied.

Jungkook muttered something to himself under his breath and got out of the car, quickly appearing by your side and opening the door for you.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He nodded toward your house.

You got to your feet indignantly and marched up to your porch. Jungkook followed after you, leaning against one of the support beams of your front awning as he watched you dig through your purse.

After a few moments of your struggle, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“What?”

“Can’t find my key.” You frowned.

“I’ll call your dad.”

“Not home. And won’t be, till tomorrow morning. He’s in the city for some work emergency, remember?”

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, visibly thinking something over, judging by the crease in his forehead.

“And you don’t got a spare key lying around somewhere? Under a flower pot or a welcome mat or something like that?”

You shook your head.

If Jungkook were a better man, he’d have caught the glimmer of an ulterior motive dancing in your mischievous eyes. He would’ve brought up the spare key given to him for emergencies—this would’ve constituted as such. And he certainly wouldn’t have said what he had next.

“You can stay the night at mine.”

You blinked up at him, your hand frozen in the opening of your purse.

,

to be continued...