Page 267 - The Love Hypothesis

They chattered their way to Olive’s unused bed and sat down. After a

few more moments of overlapping babbling, Olive decided to intervene and
lifted her hands.
“Hold on.” She was already coming down with a headache. Today was

going to be a nightmare, for so many reasons. “What happened?”
“The weirdest thing,” Anh said.

“Coolest,” Malcolm interrupted. “She means coolest.”
“Where were you, Ol? You said you were going to join us.”

“Here. I just, um, was tired after my talk, and fell asleep and—”
“Lame, Ol, very lame, but I have no time to berate you for your

lameness because I need to catch you up with what happened last night—”
“I should tell her,” Malcolm gave Anh a scathing look. “Since it’s about
me.”

“Fair enough,” she conceded with a flourishing gesture.
Malcolm smiled, pleased, and cleared his throat. “Ol, who have I been

wanting to have sex with for the past several years?”
“Uh . . .” She scratched her temple. Off the top of her head, she could

name about thirty people. “Victoria Beckham?”
“No. Well, yes. But no.”

“David Beckham?”
“Also yes. But no.”
“The other Spice Girl? The one in the Adidas tracksuit—”

“No. Okay, yes, but don’t focus on celebrities, focus on real life people
—”

“Holden Rodrigues,” Anh blurted out impatiently. “He hooked up with
Rodrigues at the department social. Ol, it is with utmost regret that I must

inform you that you have been dethroned and are no longer the president of
the Hot for Teacher club. Will you retire in shame or accept the treasurer

position?”
Olive blinked. Several times. An inordinate amount of times. And then
heard herself say, “Wow.”

“Isn’t it the weirdest—”
“Coolest, Anh,” Malcolm interjected. “Coolest.”