Page 67 - The Love Hypothesis

“Oh, yeah. What about Holden Rodrigues? He’s hot. Cute smile, too. I

would know—he always smiles at me.”
Olive burst into laughter. “I could never fake-date Dr. Rodrigues, not
with how assiduously you’ve been thirsting after him for the past two

years.”
“I have, haven’t I? Did I ever tell you about the serious flirting that

happened between us at the undergrad research fair? I’m pretty sure he
winked at me multiple times from the other side of the room. Now, some

say he just had something in his eye, but—”
“Me. I said that he probably had something in his eye. And you tell me

about it every other day.”
“Right.” He sighed. “You know, Ol, I would have fake-dated you myself
in a heartbeat, to spare you from goddamned Carlsen. I would have held

hands with you, and given you my jacket when you were cold, and very
publicly gifted you chocolate roses and teddy bears on Valentine’s Day.”

How refreshing, to talk with someone who’d watched a rom-com. Or
ten. “I know. But you also bring home a different person every week, and

you love it, and I love that you love it. I don’t want to cramp your style.”
“Fair.” Malcolm looked pleased—whether at the fact that he really did

get around a fair bit or at Olive’s thorough understanding of his dating
habits, she wasn’t sure.
“Can you please not hate me, then?”

He tossed the kitchen cloth onto the counter and stepped closer. “Ol. I
could never hate you. You’ll always be my kalamata.” He pulled her into

his chest, hugging her tight. At the beginning, when they’d just met, Olive
had been constantly disoriented by how physical he was, probably because

it had been years since she’d experienced such affectionate contact. Now,
Malcolm’s hugs were her happy place.

She laid her head on his shoulder and smiled into the cotton of his T-
shirt. “Thanks.”
Malcolm held her tighter.

“And I promise if I ever bring Adam home, I’ll put a sock on my door—
Ouch!”