At your college, you—the star figure skater—and Satoru Gojo—the campus-famous hockey prodigy—are equally well-known for one thing: never being in a relationship for more than exactly one month.

Not a day more.

Never a second longer.

Your reputation speaks for itself. You’ve only had one real boyfriend, and after that fizzled out, you bounced back fast. Since then, it’s been nothing but casual Kens—flings that fizzle out the moment things start feeling too real.

And Gojo? Same story. Different sport.

One night, you’re at a local dive bar with your friends, all huddled around a scratched-up round table in the corner, sipping cheap drinks and swapping stories. Out of nowhere, someone asks,

“girl, when are you gonna settle down and take dating seriously?”

You dramatically clutch your chest. “Yuck. I don’t date. Gross. But I might talk to you, lead you on a little, make you think you’ve got a chance—and then I’m like, ‘Oops! Gotta go!’”

The whole table bursts out laughing—until they all suddenly go quiet.

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

Then you turn toward the door.

There he is.

Satoru Gojo. Alone. No hockey bros. No swarm of fangirls. Just him, walking in like he owns the place.

Your friends immediately start whispering and swooning, gushing over how hot and untouchable he is.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I could have that boy wrapped around my finger in five seconds flat.”

“Do it. We dare you,” one of them grins.

You smirk, standing up and smoothing down your outfit. “Fine. Watch and learn, ladies.”

With that, you saunter over to the bar and slide into the seat next to him

how hard could it be?