Page 139 - The Love Hypothesis

“I don’t believe I’ve ever used the expression ‘crappy millennial

scientists.’ ”
“But FYI, I still think that you don’t need to be that harsh when you give
feedback. We get the gist of what you’re saying, even if you give criticism

more nicely.”
He looked at her for a long time. Then he nodded, once. “Noted.”

“Are you going to be less harsh, then?”
“Unlikely.”

She sighed. “You know, when I have no more friends and everyone
hates me because of this fake-dating thing, I’ll be super lonely and you are

going to have to hang out with me every day. I’ll annoy you all the time. Is
it really worth being mean to every grad in the program?”
“Absolutely.”

She sighed again, this time with a smile, and let the side of her head rest
on his shoulder. It might have been a bit forward, but it felt natural—maybe

because they seemed to have a knack for getting themselves in situations
that required PDA of some sort, maybe because of everything they’d been

talking about, maybe because of the hour of the night. Adam . . . well, he
didn’t act as if he minded. He was just there, quiet, relaxed, warm and solid

through the cotton of his black shirt under her temple. It felt like a long time
before he broke the silence.
“I’m not sorry for asking Greg to revise his proposal. But I am sorry that

I created a situation that led him to take it out on you. That as long as this
continues, it might happen again.”

“Well, I am sorry about the texts I sent,” she said again. “And you’re
fine. Even if you’re antagonistic and unapproachable.”

“Good to hear.”
“I should go back to the lab.” She sat up, one hand coming to massage

the base of her neck. “My disastrous blotting is not going to fix itself.”
Adam blinked, and there was a gleam in his eyes, as if he hadn’t thought
she’d leave so soon. As if he’d have liked for her to stay. “Why disastrous?”

She groaned. “It’s just . . .” She reached for her phone and tapped on the
home button, pulling up a picture of her last Western blot. “See?” She