Page 95 - The Love Hypothesis

“Oh.” It was nice of him to offer. Not fake-dating-to-save-her-ass,

spend-twenty-bucks-on-junk-food-for-her nice, but still very nice. Olive
couldn’t possibly accept. Plus, Adam was a professor, which meant that he
was older and all that. Thirtysomething. He did look fit, but he probably

had a bum knee and was only a few years short of osteoporosis. “Thank
you, but—”

“Actually, that would be a terrible idea,” Anh interjected. Her eyes were
darting between Olive and Adam. “No offense, Dr. Carlsen, but you’re

three times larger than Olive. If you stand, the room’s going to burst.”
Adam stared at Anh like he had no idea whether he’d just been insulted.

“But,” she continued, this time looking at Olive, “it’d be great if you
could do me a solid and sit on your boyfriend’s lap, Ol. Just so I don’t have
to stand on my toes?”

Olive blinked. And then she blinked again. And then she blinked some
more. Near the podium, Dr. Moss was still introducing Tom—“Got his

Ph.D. from Vanderbilt and then moved to a postdoctoral fellowship at
Harvard University, where he pioneered several techniques in the field of

imaging”—but her voice sounded as if it was coming from far, far away.
Possibly because Olive couldn’t stop thinking about what Anh had

proposed, which was just . . .
“Anh, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Olive mumbled under her breath,
avoiding glancing in Adam’s direction.

Anh gave her a look. “Why? You’re taking up space we don’t have, and
it’s only logical that you use Carlsen as a chair. I would, but he’s your

boyfriend, not mine.”
For a moment, Olive tried to imagine what Adam would do if Anh

decided to sit on his lap, and figured that it would probably end up
involving someone being murdered and someone doing the murdering—she

wasn’t sure who’d be doing what. The mental image was so ridiculous that
she almost giggled out loud. Then she noticed the way Anh was looking at
her expectantly. “Anh, I can’t.”

“Why?”
“Because. This is a scientific talk.”