Page 306 - The Love Hypothesis

A throat cleared, reminding them that they were not alone. Malcolm and

Holden were both staring—Malcolm with a shrewd, suspicious expression,
and Holden with a knowing smile. “What’s all that about?”
“Oh.” Olive’s cheeks warmed a little. “Nothing. They just have pumpkin

spice bubble tea.”
Malcolm pretended to gag. “Ugh, Ol. Gross.”

“Shut up.”
“It sounds great.” Holden smiled and leaned into Malcolm. “We should

get one to split.”
“Excuse me?”

Olive tried not to laugh at Malcolm’s horrified expression. “Don’t get
Malcolm started on pumpkin spice,” she told Holden in an exaggerated
whisper.

“Oh, shit.” Holden clutched his chest in mock terror.
“This is a serious matter.” Malcolm let his menu fall on the table.

“Pumpkin spice is Satan’s dandruff, harbinger of the apocalypse, and it
tastes like ass—not in the good way.” Next to Olive Adam nodded slowly,

highly impressed with Malcolm’s rant. “One pumpkin spice latte contains
the same amount of sugar you’d find in fifty Skittles—and no pumpkin

whatsoever. Look it up.”
Adam stared at Malcolm with something very similar to admiration.
Holden met Olive’s eyes and told her conspiratorially, “Our boyfriends have

so much in common.”
“They do. They think hating entire harmless families of food is a

personality trait.”
“Pumpkin spice is not harmless. It’s a radioactive, overpowering sugar

bomb that worms its way into every sort of product and is single-handedly
responsible for the extinction of the Caribbean monk seal. And you”—he

pointed his finger at Holden—“are on thin ice.”
“What—why?”
“I can’t date someone who doesn’t respect my stance on pumpkin

spice.”