Page 43 - The Love Hypothesis

She was in an excellent mood until two hours later, when she entered the

biology TA meeting and a sudden silence dropped in the room. About
fifteen pairs of eyes fixed on her—not a reaction she was accustomed to
receiving.

“Uh—hi?”
A couple of people said hi back. Most averted their gazes. Olive told

herself that she was just imagining things. Must be low blood sugar. Or
high. One of the two.

“Hey, Olive.” A seventh-year who had never before acknowledged her
existence moved his backpack and freed the seat next to his. “How are

you?”
“Good.” She sat down gingerly, trying to keep the suspicion from her
tone. “Um, you?”

“Great.”
There was something about his smile. Something salacious and fake.

Olive was considering asking about it when the head TA managed to get the
projector to work and called everyone’s attention to the meeting.

After that, things became even weirder. Dr. Aslan stopped by the lab just
to ask Olive if there was anything she’d like to talk about; Chase, a grad in

her lab, let her use the PCR machine first, even though he usually hoarded it
like a third grader with his last piece of Halloween candy; the lab manager
winked at Olive as he handed her a stack of blank paper for the printer. And

then she met Malcolm in the all-gender restroom, completely by chance,
and suddenly everything made sense.

“You sneaky monster,” he hissed. His black eyes were almost comically
narrow. “I’ve been texting you all day.”

“Oh.” Olive patted the back pocket of her jeans, and then the front one,
trying to remember the last time she had seen her phone. “I think I might

have left my phone at home.”
“I cannot believe it.”
“Believe what?”

“I cannot believe you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”