Page 131 - The Love Hypothesis

the break room was Adam, sitting on one of the small couches in the

middle, looking at her with a bland, slightly amused expression.
She relaxed her pose and clutched her hands to her chest, willing her
racing heartbeat to slow down. “When did you get here?!”

“Five minutes ago?” He regarded her calmly. “I was here when you
came in.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”
He tilted his head. “I could ask the same.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to recover from the scare.
“I didn’t see you. Why are you sitting in the dark like a creep?”

“Light’s broken. As usual.” Adam lifted his drink—a bottle of Coke that
hilariously read “Seraphina”—and Olive remembered Jess, one of his grads,
complaining about how strict Adam was about bringing food and drinks

into his lab. He grabbed something from the cushion and held it out to
Olive. “Here. You can have the rest of the chips.”

Olive narrowed her eyes. “You.”
“Me?”

“You stole my chips.”
His mouth curved. “Sorry. You can have what’s left.” He peeked into the

bag. “I didn’t have many, I don’t think.”
She hesitated and then made her way to the couch. She distrustfully
accepted the small bag and took a seat next to him. “Thanks, I guess.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. She tried not to stare at his throat as
he tipped his head back, averting her eyes to her knees.

“Should you be having caffeine at”—Olive glanced at the clock—“ten
twenty-seven p.m.?” Come to think of it, he shouldn’t be having caffeine at

all, given his baseline shiny personality. And yet the two of them got coffee
together every Wednesday. Olive was nothing but an enabler.

“I doubt I’ll be sleeping much, anyway.”
“Why?”
“I need to run a set of last-minute analyses for a grant due on Sunday

night.”