Page 163 - The Love Hypothesis

“No, but I’m trying to be supportive here. You weren’t in love with him

at the time.”
She groaned. “Can we please not use that word? Ever again? It seems a
little premature.”

“Sure.” Malcolm brushed nonexistent dust off his button-down. “Way to
bring a rom-com to life, by the way. So, how are you going to break the

news?”
She massaged her temple. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you have a thing for him, and you two are friendly. I’m assuming
you’re planning to inform him of your . . . feelings? Can I use the word

‘feelings’?”
“No.”
“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re going to tell him, right?”

“Of course not.” She snorted out a laugh. “You can’t tell the person
you’re fake-dating that you”—her brain scanned itself for the correct word,

didn’t find it, and then stumbled on—“like them. It’s just not done. Adam
will think I orchestrated this. That I was after him all along.”

“That’s ridiculous. You didn’t even know him at the time.”
“Maybe I did, though. Do you remember the guy I told you about, who

helped me decide about grad school? The one I met in the bathroom over
my interview weekend?”
Malcolm nodded.

“He might have been Adam. I think.”
“You think? You mean you didn’t ask him?”

“Of course not.”
“Why ‘of course’?”

“Because maybe it wasn’t him. And if he was, he clearly doesn’t
remember, or he’d have mentioned it weeks ago.”

He hadn’t been the one wearing expired contacts, after all.
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Listen, Olive,” he said earnestly, “I need you
to consider something: What if Adam likes you, too? What if he wants

something more?”
She laughed. “There is no way.”