Page 203 - The Love Hypothesis
P. 203

moved  around.  Staying  in  here  with  him  wouldn’t  feel  like  a  singularly

                sadistic version of seven minutes in heaven.
                    Not that they’d be together much. She was going to give her talk in a
                couple  of  hours—ugh—then  go  to  the  department’s  social  and  hang  out

                with her friends until . . . well, as long as she feasibly could. Odds were that
                Adam already had tons of meetings scheduled, and maybe they wouldn’t

                even see each other. Olive would be asleep when he came back tonight, and
                tomorrow morning one of  them would  pretend not to wake up while the

                other got ready. It was going to be fine. Harmless. At the very least, not
                make things worse than they currently were.

                    Olive’s  usual  conference  outfit  was  black  jeans  and  her  least-frayed
                cardigan, but a few days ago Anh had mentioned that the ensemble might
                be too casual for a talk. After sighing for hours Olive had decided to bring

                the  black  wrap  dress  she’d  bought  on  sale  before  interviewing  for  grad
                school and black pumps borrowed from Anh’s sister. It had seemed like a

                good idea at the time, but as soon as she slipped into the bathroom to put on
                the dress, she realized that it must have shrunk the last time she washed it. It

                didn’t quite hit her knees anymore, not by a couple of inches. She groaned
                and snapped a picture for Anh and Malcolm, who texted her, respectively,

                Still conference appropriate and a fire emoji. Olive prayed that Anh was
                right  as  she  combed  the  waves  in  her  hair  and  fought  against  dried-out

                mascara—her fault for buying makeup at the dollar store, clearly.
                    She  had  just  got  out  of  the  bathroom,  rehearsing  her  talk  under  her

                breath, when the door opened and someone—Adam, of course it was Adam
                —entered the room. He was holding his key card and typing something in
                his  phone,  but  stopped  as  soon  as  he  looked  up  and  noticed  Olive.  His

                mouth opened, and—
                    That was it. It just stayed open.

                    “Hey.”  Olive  forced  her  face  into  a  smile.  Her  heart  was  doing
                something  weird  in  her  chest.  Beating  a  little  too  quickly.  She  should
                probably have it checked as soon as she got back home. One could never be

                too careful about cardiovascular health. “Hi.”
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