The Love Hypothesis

10:00 a.m.

It was ten. On a Wednesday morning. And Olive was currently sitting in the campus Starbucks, the very same Starbucks where she had spent her Wednesday mornings for the past few weeks. She whirled around and—

She wasn’t even surprised to find Adam. Standing behind her. Close enough that unless both his eardrums had ruptured since the last time they’d talked, he must have heard every single word that came out of Olive’s mouth.

She wished she could expire on the spot. She wished she could crawl outside her body and this café, melt in a pool of sweat, and seep between the tiles on the floor, just vanish into thin air. But all these things were currently beyond her skill set, so she fixed a weak smile on her face and looked up at Adam.

Chapter Eleven

HYPOTHESIS: Whenever I lie, things will get worse by a factor of 743.

“Did you . . . did you hear that?” she blurted out.

Malcolm hurried to clear the table of his stuff, muttering tightly, “I was just about to go.”

Olive barely noticed, busy watching Adam slide the chair back to sit across from her.

Shit.

“Yes,” he said, bland and even, and Olive felt like she was about to disintegrate into a million tiny pieces, here, in this exact spot. She wanted him to take it back. Wanted him to say “No, heard what?” She wanted to go back to earlier this morning and rewind it all, this horrible mess of a day. Not look at the texts on her phone, not let Anh walk in on her mooning over her fake boyfriend, not pour her heart out to Malcolm in the worst possible place.

Adam couldn’t know. He simply couldn’t. He’d think that Olive had kissed him on purpose, that she’d masterminded this whole fiasco, that she’d manipulated him into this situation. He’d feel compelled to break up with her well before he could reap any benefits from their arrangement. And he would hate her.

The prospect was terrifying, so she said the one thing she could think of.

“It wasn’t about you.”

The lie rolled off her tongue like a mudslide: unpremeditated, quick, and bound to leave a huge mess behind.

“I know.” He nodded, and . . . he didn’t even look surprised. It was as though it had never occurred to him that Olive might have been interested in him. It made her want to cry—a frequent state on this stupid morning—but instead of doing that, she just vomited out another lie.

“I just . . . I have a thing. For a guy.”

He nodded again, this time slowly. His eyes darkened, and the corner of his jaw twitched, just for a moment. She blinked, and his expression was blank again. “Yeah. I gathered that.”

“This guy, he’s . . .” She swallowed. What was he? Quick, Olive, quick. An immunologist? Icelandic? A giraffe? What was he?

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want.” Adam’s voice seemed slightly offbeat, but also comforting. Tired. Olive realized that she was wringing her hands, and instead of stopping she simply hid them under the table.

“I . . . It’s just that . . .”

“It’s okay.” He offered her a reassuring smile, and Olive—she couldn’t possibly look at him. Not a second longer. She averted her eyes, desperately wishing she had something to say. Something to fix this. Right outside the café’s window, a group of undergrads were huddling together in front of a laptop, laughing at something playing on the screen. A gust of wind scattered a stack of notes, and a boy scrambled to retrieve them. In the distance, Dr. Rodrigues was walking in the direction of Starbucks.

“This . . . our arrangement.” Adam’s voice pulled her back inside. To the lies and the table between them; to the gentle, soft way he was talking to her. Kind, he’d been so kind.

Adam. I used to think the worst of you, and now . . .

“It’s supposed to help both of us. If it stops doing so . . .”

“No.” Olive shook her head. “No. I . . .” She forced her face into a smile. “It’s complicated.”

“I see.”

She opened her mouth to say that no, he couldn’t possibly see. He couldn’t possibly see anything, because Olive had just made all of this up. This clusterfuck of a situation. “I don’t—” She wet her lips. “There is no need to stop our arrangement early, because I can’t tell him that I like him. Because I—”

“Dude.” A hand clapped on Adam’s shoulder. “Since when are you not in your offi— Oh. I see.” Dr. Rodrigues?

??s gaze slid from Adam to Olive and settled on her. For a second, he just stood by the table and took her in, surprised to find her there. Then his mouth widened into a slow grin. “Hey, Olive.”