The Love Hypothesis

“You going in there?” He pointed at the microscope lab with his chin, and Olive nodded. “Here, let me get it.” He swiped his badge to unlock the door and held it open for her.

“Thank you.” She settled her samples on a bench and smiled gratefully, sliding her hands into her back pockets. “I was going to get a cart, but I couldn’t find one.”

“There’s only one left on this floor. I think someone’s bringing them home and reselling them.”

He grinned, and—Malcolm was right. Had been right for the past two years: there really was something easygoing and effortlessly attractive about Holden. Not that Olive seemed to be interested in anything but tall, broody, sullen hunks with genius IQs.

“Can’t blame ’em. I’d have done the same in my grad school days. So, how’s life?”

“Um, fine. You?”

Holden ignored her question and casually leaned against the wall. “How bad is it?”

“Bad?”

“Adam being gone. Hell, even I miss that little shit.” He chuckled. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh.” She took her hands out of her pockets, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and then changed her mind and dropped them woodenly by her sides. Yep. Perfect. Acting natural. “Fine. Good. Busy.”

Holden looked genuinely relieved. “Great. Have you guys been talking on the phone?”

No. Of course not. Talking on the phone is the hardest, most stressful thing in the world, and I can’t do it with the nice lady who schedules my dental cleanings, let alone with Adam Carlsen. “Ah, mostly texting, you know?”

“Yeah, I do know. However buttoned-up and sulky Adam is with you, please know that he’s making an effort and he’s a million times worse with everyone else. Me included.” He sighed and shook his head, but there was a fondness behind it. An easy affection that Olive couldn’t miss. My oldest friend, he’d said about Adam, and clearly he hadn’t been lying. “He’s actually gotten a lot better, since you guys started dating.”

Olive felt on the verge of a full-body cringe. Unsure of what to say, she settled for a simple, painful, awkward: “Really?”

Holden nodded. “Yep. I’m so glad he finally scrounged up the courage to ask you out. He’d been going on and on about this ‘amazing girl’ for years, but he was concerned about being in the same department, and you know how he is . . .” He shrugged and waved his hand. “I’m glad he finally managed to pull his head out of his ass.”

Olive’s brain stuttered. Her neurons went sluggish and cold, and it took her several seconds to process that Adam had been wanting to ask her out for years. She couldn’t wrap her head around it, because . . . it was not possible. It didn’t make sense. Adam didn’t even remember Olive existed before she’d Title-IXed him in the hallway a few weeks ago. The more she thought about it, the more she grew convinced that if he’d had any recollection of their bathroom meeting, he would have said as much. Adam was famously direct, after all.

Holden must have been referring to someone else. And Adam must have feelings for that someone. Someone he worked with, someone who was in their department. Someone who was “amazing.”

Olive’s mind, half frozen until a few seconds ago, began to spiral with the knowledge. Setting aside the fact that this conversation was an utter invasion of Adam’s privacy, Olive couldn’t stop herself from considering the implications of their arrangement for him. If the person Holden was talking about was one of Adam’s colleagues, there was no chance that she hadn’t heard about Adam and Olive dating. It was possible that she’d seen the two of them get coffee together on a Wednesday, or Olive sitting on Adam’s lap during Tom’s talk, or—God, Olive slathering him with sunblock at that godforsaken picnic. Which couldn’t be good for his prospects. Unless Adam didn’t mind, because he was sure beyond any doubt that his feelings were unrequited—and oh, wouldn’t that be funny? About as funny as a Greek tragedy.

“Anyway.” Holden pushed away from the wall, his hand coming up to scratch his nape. “I think we should go on a double date one of these days. I’ve been taking a break from dating—too much heartache—but maybe it’s time to dip my toes in again. Hopefully I’ll snatch myself a boyfriend soon.”

The weight in Olive’s stomach sank even lower. “That would be lovely.” She attempted a smile.

“Right?” He grinned. “Adam would hate it with the intensity of a thousand suns.”

He really would.

“But I could tell you so many juicy stories about him, approximately aged ten to twenty-five.” Holden was delighted at the prospect. “He’d be mortified.”

“Are they about taxidermy?”

“Taxidermy?”

“Nothing. Just something Tom had said about . . .” She waved her hand. “Nothing.”

Holden’s gaze turned sharp. “Adam said you might be going to work with Tom next year. Is that true?”

“Oh . . . yeah. That’s the plan.”

He nodded, pensive. Then seemed to come to some sort of decision and added, “Watch your back while you’re around him, okay?”

“My back?” What? Why? Did this have anything to do with what Adam had mentioned—Holden not liking Tom? “What do you mean?”