You reluctantly agreed to attend a college party with your friends—it had been a while since you’d gone to one. Still, with your breakup just over two weeks ago, bitterness lingered. You couldn’t stand seeing your ex strutting around campus as if nothing had happened.

When your friends slipped away to grab more drinks from the kitchen, you stayed back, leaning against the hallway wall, scanning the scene with little interest.

“Hiding from someone?”

The familiar monotone drew your gaze, landing on someone you never quite knew how to categorize.

Nanami Kento.

Around campus, you privately referred to him as the “handsomely stoic wallflower.” Not that anyone else really knew him—he wasn’t exactly well-known, but you had always noticed him. You’d always found him attractive, of course, but you never acted on it. You were loyal, and he seemed like the kind of man who quietly respected that quality.

So when word reached him about your breakup, he hadn’t been surprised. With a peculiar knack for sensing the state of relationships despite never engaging in them himself, he’d long suspected you and your ex weren’t soulmates.

Before you could answer his question—that you weren’t hiding, only waiting for your friends—you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see: your ex.

For all his calm, unaffected posturing, he’d been trying to talk to you ever since the breakup. You wanted no part of it.

On impulse, you grabbed Kento’s wrist and tugged him close, whispering, “Pretend you’re kissing me.”

His eyes narrowed, a sidelong glance confirming exactly why you’d pulled him in. Then, without hesitation, he closed the space between you. His hand cradled your head as his lips pressed against yours.

You had expected a half-hearted, awkward attempt. Instead, the kiss felt disarmingly real—enough to stir butterflies in your stomach. When you opened your eyes mid-kiss, you caught sight of your ex turning away, retreating.

And still, Nanami kissed you.

You finally broke away, gasping softly, but his hand remained at the back of your head, holding you close.

“I said… pretend to kiss me,” you muttered, only then realizing the faint edge of irritation in his expression.

Because before you could step back, his grip on the back of your head guided you forward again.