He looked away and rolled his eyes, but she could see it in the curve of his cheeks that he was amused. Likely against his will. “You are such a smart-ass.”
“Maybe, but I’m not the one who grunted when I asked how your week was.”
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“I did not grunt. And you ordered me chamomile tea.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
They were quiet for a few moments as she chewed through the first bite of her Danish. Once she’d swallowed she said, “I’m sorry about your funds.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry about the mood.”
Oh. “It’s okay. You’re famous for that.”
“I am?”
“Yep. It’s kind of your thing.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmm.”
His mouth twitched. “Maybe I wanted to spare you.”
Olive smiled, because it was actually a nice thing to say. And he was not a nice person, but he was very kind to her most of the time—if not always. He was almost smiling back, staring down at her in a way that she couldn’t quite interpret but that made her think weird thoughts, until the barista deposited their drinks on the counter. He suddenly looked like he was about to retch.
“Adam? Are you okay?”
He stared at her cup and took a step back. “The smell of that thing.”
Olive inhaled deeply. Heaven. “You hate pumpkin spice latte?”
He wrinkled his nose, moving even farther away. “Gross.”
“How can you hate it? It’s the best thing your country has produced in the past century.”
“Please, stand back. The stench.”
“Hey. If I have to choose between you and pumpkin spice latte, maybe we should rethink our arrangement.”
He eyed her cup like it contained radioactive waste. “Maybe we should.”
He held the door open for her as they exited the coffee shop, taking care not to come too close to her drink. Outside it was starting to drizzle. Students were hastily packing up their laptops and notebooks from the patio tables to head to class or move to the library. Olive had been in love with the rain since as far back as she could remember. She inhaled deeply and filled her lungs with petrichor, stopping with Adam under the canopy. He took a sip of his chamomile tea, and it made her smile.
“Hey,” she said, “I have an idea. Are you going to the fall biosciences picnic?”
He nodded. “I have to. I’m on the biology department’s social-and-networking committee.”
She laughed out loud. “No way.”
“Yep.”
“Did you actually sign up for it?”
“It’s service. I was forced to rotate into the position.”
“Ah. That sounds . . . fun.” She winced sympathetically, almost laughing again at his appalled expression. “Well, I’m going, too. Dr. Aslan makes us all go, says it promotes bonding among lab mates. Do you make your grads go?”