Page 261 - The Love Hypothesis

“My college roommate had a poster with ‘I love you’ written in every

language,” Olive explained. “Right across from my bed. First thing I’d see
every morning after waking up.”
“And at the end of year four you knew every language?”

“End of year one. She joined a sorority as a sophomore, which was for
the best.” She lowered her gaze, nuzzled her face in his chest, and then

looked back up at him. “It’s pretty stupid, if you think about it.”
“Stupid?”

“Who needs to know how to say ‘I love you’ in every language? People
barely need it in one. Sometimes not even in one.” She smoothed his hair

back with her fingers. “ ‘Where’s the restroom?’ on the other hand . . .”
He leaned into her touch, as if soothed by it. “Waar is de WC?”
Olive blinked.

“That would be ‘Where’s the restroom?’ ” he explained.
“Yeah, I figured. Just . . . your voice . . .” She cleared her throat. She’d

been better off without knowing how attractive he sounded when speaking
another language. “Anyway. That would be a useful poster.” She brushed

her finger against his forehead. “What’s this from?”
“My face?”

“The little scar. The one above your eyebrow.”
“Ah. Just a stupid fight.”
“A fight?” She chuckled. “Did one of your grads try to kill you?”

“Nah, I was a kid. Though I could see my grads pouring acetonitrile in
my coffee.”

“Oh, totally.” She nodded in agreement. “I have one, too.” She pulled
her hair behind her shoulder and showed him the small, half-moon-shaped

line right next to her temple.
“I know.”

“You know? About my scar?”
He nodded.
“When did you notice? It’s really faint.”

He shrugged and began tracing it with his thumb. “What’s it from?”