Page 158 - The Love Hypothesis

dissertation about how bad you are. And then you get a chunk of cheese,

and I get a real job that pays real money and the joy of saying ‘I’m not that
kind of doctor’ when someone is having a stroke on my airplane.”
The mouse squeaked and let go of the wire, flopping on the floor of the

testing cage with a thud.
“That’ll do it.” She quickly got rid of her gloves and unlocked her phone

with her thumb.

Adam: My arm hurts.
She initially thought that he was giving her a reason why they couldn’t
meet up. Then she remembered waking up and rubbing her own achy arm.

Olive: From the u shot?

Adam: It ’s really painful.
She giggled. She truly had not thought she was the type to, but here she

was, covering her mouth with her hand and . . . yes, giggling like a fool in
the middle of the lab. Her mouse was staring up at her, its tiny red eyes a
mix of judgment and surprise. Olive hastily turned away and looked back at

her phone.

Olive: Oh, Adam. I’m so sorry.
Olive: Should I come over and kiss it better?

Adam: You never said it would hurt so bad.
Olive: As someone once told me, it ’s not my job to work on your

emotion regulation skills.
Adam’s answer was one single emoji (a yellow hand with a raised

middle finger), and Olive’s cheeks pulled with how hard she was grinning.
She was about to reply with a kiss emoji when a voice interrupted her.

“Gross.”
She looked up from her phone. Anh stood in the lab’s entrance, sticking
out her tongue.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Borrowing gloves. And being grossed out.”

Olive frowned. “Why?”