Page 214 - The Love Hypothesis

aunt or your stupid kindergarten teacher dying from it is only going to get

you so far. You’re mediocre.”
Olive turned around and ran from the room.

—

HEARD the beep of the key card, she immediately wiped her face
WHEN SHE
with the sleeves of her dress. It didn’t quite do the trick: she’d been crying
for a solid twenty minutes, and even an entire paper towel roll wouldn’t
have been enough to hide what she’d been up to. Really, though, it wasn’t

Olive’s fault. She’d been sure Adam had to attend the opening ceremony, or
at least the department social after his talk. Wasn’t he on the social-and-

networking committee? He should have been elsewhere. Socializing.
Networking. Committeeing.

But here he was. Olive heard steps as he walked inside, then him
stopping at the entrance of the bedroom, and . . .

She couldn’t convince her eyes to meet his. She was a mess after all, a
miserable, disastrous mess. But she should at least attempt to divert Adam’s
attention. Maybe by saying something. Anything.

“Hey.” She tried a smile, but continued to stare down at her own hands.
“How did your address go?”

“What happened?” His voice was calm, pitched low.
“Did you only just finish?” Her smile was holding. Good. Good, that

was good. “How was the Q and A—”
“What happened?”

“Nothing. I . . .”
She didn’t manage to finish the sentence. And the smile—which, if she
was honest with herself, hadn’t been much of a smile to begin with—was

crumbling. Olive heard Adam come closer but didn’t look at him. Her
closed eyelids were all that was keeping the floodgates shut, and they

weren’t doing a good job of it, either.
She startled when she found him kneeling in front of her. Right by her

chair, his head level with hers, studying her with a worried frown. She made
to hide her face in her palms, but his hand came up to her chin and lifted it