Page 71 - The Love Hypothesis

“Yellow? Vomit green?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking?”
Olive shrugged. “It feels like something I should know.”
“Why?”

“Because. If someone tries to figure out whether we’re really dating, it
might be one of the first questions they ask. Top five, for sure.”

He studied her for a few seconds. “Does that seem like a likely scenario
to you?”

“About as likely as me fake-dating you.”
He nodded, as if conceding her point. “Okay. Black, I guess.”

She snorted. “Figures.”
“What’s wrong with black?” He frowned.
“It’s not even a color. It’s no colors, technically.”

“It’s better than vomit green.”
“No, it isn’t.”

“Of course it is.”
“Yeah, well. It suits your scion-of-darkness personality.”

“What does that even—”
“Good morning.” The barista smiled at them cheerfully. “What will you

have today?”
Olive smiled back, gesturing at Adam to order first.
“Coffee.” He darted a glance at her before adding, sheepishly, “Black.”

She had to duck her head to hide her smile, but when she glanced at him
again, the corner of his mouth was curved upward. Which, she reluctantly

admitted to herself, was not a bad look for him. She ignored it and ordered
the most fatty, sugary thing on the drink menu, asking for extra whipped

cream. She was wondering if she should try to make up for it by buying an
apple, too, or if she should just lean into it and top it off with a cookie,

when Adam took a credit card out of his wallet and held it to the cashier.
“Oh, no. No, no, no. No.” Olive put her hand in front of his and lowered
her voice. “You can’t pay for my stuff.”

He blinked. “I can’t?”
“That’s not the kind of fake relationship we’re having.”