Page 65 - The Love Hypothesis

retrospect, that might have been when Malcolm started wishing a plague on

the Carlsen house (he had been rehearsing for Romeo and Juliet at the
time).
“Malcolm, can we please talk about this?”

“We’re talking.”
“No, you are cooking and I am just standing here, trying to get you to

acknowledge that you are mad because Adam—”
Malcolm turned away from his casserole, wagging his finger in Olive’s

direction. “Do not say it.”
“Do not say what?”

“You know what.”
“Adam Carl—?”
“Do not say his name.”

She threw her hands up. “This is crazy. It’s fake, Malcolm.”
He went back to chopping the asparagus. “Pass the salt.”

“Are you even listening? It’s not real.”
“And the pepper, and the—”

“The relationship, it’s fake. We’re not really dating. We’re pretending so
people will think that we’re dating.”

Malcolm’s hands stopped mid-chop. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Is it a . . . friends-with-benefits arrangement? Because—”

“No. It’s the opposite. There are no benefits. Zero benefits. Zero sex.
Zero friends, too.”

He stared at her, narrow-eyed. “To be clear, oral and butt stuff totally
counts as sex—”

“Malcolm.”
He took a step closer, grabbing a dishrag to wipe his hands, nostrils

flaring. “I’m scared to ask.”
“I know it sounds ridiculous. He’s helping me out by pretending we’re
together because I lied to Anh, and I need her to feel okay about dating

Jeremy. It’s all fake. Adam and I have talked exactly”—she decided on the
spot to omit any information pertinent to The Night—“three times, and I