Page 93 - The Love Hypothesis

Chapter Six

HYPOTHESIS: When compared with multiple types and models of furniture,
Adam Carlsen’s lap will be rated in the top fifth percentile for comfort,
coziness, and enjoyment.

The moment Olive opened the door of the auditorium she and Anh

exchanged a wide-eyed look and said, in unison, “Holy shit.”
In her two years at Stanford she had been to countless seminars,

trainings, lectures, and classes in this lecture hall, and yet she’d never seen
the room this full. Maybe Tom was giving out free beer?

“I think they made the talk mandatory for immunology and
pharmacology,” Anh said. “And I overheard at least five people in the
hallway saying that Benton is ‘a known science hottie.’ ” She stared

critically at the podium, where Tom was chatting with Dr. Moss from
immunology. “I guess he’s cute. Though not nearly as cute as Jeremy.”

Olive smiled. The air in the room was hot and humid, smelling like
sweat and too many human beings. “You don’t have to stay. This is
probably a fire hazard and not even remotely relevant to your research—”

“It beats doing actual work.” She grabbed Olive’s wrist, pulling her
through the throng of grads and postdocs crowding the entrance and down

the stairs on the side. They were just as packed. “And if this guy is going to
take you away from me and to Boston for an entire year, I want to make

sure that he deserves you.” She winked. “Consider my presence the
equivalent of a father cleaning his rifle in front of his daughter’s boyfriend

before prom.”