Page 80 - The Love Hypothesis

“Or, you could stay mad, and we could go to your lab and throw test

tubes full of toxic reagents at each other until the pain of third-degree burns
overrides your shitty mood? Sounds like fun, no?”
He looked away and rolled his eyes, but she could see it in the curve of

his cheeks that he was amused. Likely against his will. “You are such a
smart-ass.”

“Maybe, but I’m not the one who grunted when I asked how your week
was.”

“I did not grunt. And you ordered me chamomile tea.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

They were quiet for a few moments as she chewed through the first bite
of her Danish. Once she’d swallowed she said, “I’m sorry about your
funds.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry about the mood.”
Oh. “It’s okay. You’re famous for that.”

“I am?”
“Yep. It’s kind of your thing.”

“Is that so?”
“Mmm.”

His mouth twitched. “Maybe I wanted to spare you.”
Olive smiled, because it was actually a nice thing to say. And he was not
a nice person, but he was very kind to her most of the time—if not always.

He was almost smiling back, staring down at her in a way that she couldn’t
quite interpret but that made her think weird thoughts, until the barista

deposited their drinks on the counter. He suddenly looked like he was about
to retch.

“Adam? Are you okay?”
He stared at her cup and took a step back. “The smell of that thing.”

Olive inhaled deeply. Heaven. “You hate pumpkin spice latte?”
He wrinkled his nose, moving even farther away. “Gross.”
“How can you hate it? It’s the best thing your country has produced in

the past century.”
“Please, stand back. The stench.”