The Love Hypothesis

Olive: Should I come over and kiss it better?

Adam: You never said it would hurt so bad.

Olive: As someone once told me, it’s not my job to work on your emotion regulation skills.

Adam’s answer was one single emoji (a yellow hand with a raised middle finger), and Olive’s cheeks pulled with how hard she was grinning. She was about to reply with a kiss emoji when a voice interrupted her.

“Gross.”

She looked up from her phone. Anh stood in the lab’s entrance, sticking out her tongue.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Borrowing gloves. And being grossed out.”

Olive frowned. “Why?”

“We’re out of the small size.” Anh stepped inside, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, they never buy enough because I’m the only woman in the lab, but it’s not like I don’t go through gloves as fast as—”

“No, why are you grossed out?”

Anh made a face and plucked two purple gloves from Olive’s stash. “Because of how in love you are with Carlsen. Is it okay if I take a few pairs?”

“What are you—” Olive blinked at her, still clutching her phone. Was Anh going crazy? “I’m not in love with him.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Anh finished stuffing her pockets with gloves and then looked up, finally noticing Olive’s distressed expression. Her eyes widened. “Hey, I was kidding! You’re not gross. I probably look the same when I’m texting Jeremy. And it’s actually very sweet, how gone you are for him—”

“But I’m not. Gone.” Olive was starting to panic. “I don’t—It’s just—”

Anh pressed her lips together, as if biting back a smile. “Okay. If you say so.”

“No, I’m serious. We’re just—”

“Dude, it’s okay.” Anh’s tone was reassuring and a lit

tle emotional. “It’s just, you’re so amazing. And special. And honestly, my favorite person in the whole world. But sometimes I get worried that no one but Malcolm and me will ever get to experience how incredible you are. Well, until now. Now I’m not worried anymore, because I’ve seen you and Adam together, at the picnic. And in the parking lot. And . . . every other time, really. You’re both crazy in love, and over the moon about it. It’s cute! Except that first night,” she added, pensive. “I maintain that was pretty awkward.”

Olive stiffened. “Anh, it’s not like that. We’re just . . . dating. Casually. Hanging out. Getting to know each other. We’re not . . .”

“Okay, sure. If you say so.” Anh shrugged, clearly not believing a word of what Olive was saying. “Hey, I gotta go back to my bacterial culture. I’ll come bug you when I’m on break, okay?”

Olive nodded slowly, watching her friend’s back as she headed for the door. Olive’s heart skipped a beat when Anh paused and turned around, her expression suddenly serious.

“Ol. I just want you to know that . . . I was very worried about you getting hurt from my dating Jeremy. But now I’m not anymore. Because I know what you really look like when you . . . Well.” Anh gave her a sheepish grin. “I won’t say it, if you don’t want me to.”

She left with a wave of her hand, and Olive stood frozen, watching the doorframe long past the moment Anh had disappeared. Then she lowered her gaze to the floor, slumped on the stool behind her, and thought one single thing:

Shit.

* * *

—

IT WASN’T THE end of the world. These things happened. Even the best of people developed crushes—Anh had said love, oh God, she had said love—on the person they were fake-dating. It didn’t mean anything.

Except that: Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Olive locked the door of her office behind her and plopped herself into a chair, hoping today wouldn’t be the one time in the semester that her office mates decided to show up before 10:00 a.m.