Page 192 - The Love Hypothesis

“You know, there’s a middle ground between living off brownies and

exclusively eating broccoli.”
She grinned, for no reason other than—Adam was here, with her. And
he was smiling. “That’s a lie.”

He shook his head, mouth still curved. “How are you?”
Better now. “Good. How was Boston?”

“Good.”
“I’m glad you’re back. I’m pretty sure the biology dropout rates have

seen a steep reduction. We can’t have that.”
He gave her a patient, put-upon look. “You look tired, smart-ass.”

“Oh. Yeah, I . . .” She rubbed her cheek with her hand, ordering herself
not to feel self-conscious about her looks, just like she’d always made a
point not to. It would be an equally stupid idea to wonder what the woman

Holden mentioned the other day looked like. Probably stunning. Probably
feminine, with curves; someone who actually needed to wear a bra,

someone who was not half covered in freckles, who had mastered the art of
applying liquid eyeliner without making a mess of herself.

“I’m fine. It’s been a week, though.” She massaged her temple.
He cocked his head. “What happened?”

“Nothing . . . My friends are stupid, and I hate them.” She felt instantly
guilty and made a face. “Actually, I don’t hate them. I do hate that I love
them, though.”

“Is this the sunscreen friend? Anh?”
“The one and only. And my roommate, too, who really should know

better.”
“What did they do?”

“They . . .” Olive pressed into both eyes with her fingers. “It’s a long
story. They found alternative accommodations for SBD. Which means that

now I have to find a place on my own.”
“Why did they do that?”
“Because . . .” She briefly closed her eyes and sighed. “Because they

assumed that I’d want to stay with you. Since you’re my . . . you know.
‘Boyfriend.’ ”