Page 307 - The Love Hypothesis

“To be fair it’s not a very respectable stance—” Holden noticed

Malcolm’s glare and lifted his hands defensively. “I had no idea, babe.”
“You should have.”
Adam clucked his tongue, amused. “Yes, Holden. Do better.” He leaned

back in his seat, and his shoulder brushed against Olive’s. Holden gave him
the finger.

“Adam knows and respects Olive’s stance on hamburgers, and they’re
not even—” Whatever Malcolm had been about to say, he had the sense to

stop himself. “Well, if Adam knows, you should know about the pumpkin
spice.”

“Wasn’t Adam a dick until, like, twelve seconds ago?”
“How the turntables,” Adam murmured. Olive reached out to pinch him
on the side, but he stopped her with a hand around her wrist.

Evil, she mouthed at him. He just smiled, evilly, studying Malcolm and
Holden a little too gleefully.

“Come on. It’s not even comparable,” Holden was saying. “Olive and
Adam have been together for years. We met less than a week ago.”

“They have not,” Malcolm corrected him, wagging a finger. Adam’s
hand was still curled around her wrist. “They started dating, like, a month

before we did.”
“No,” Holden insisted. “Adam was into her for ages. He probably
secretly studied her eating habits and compiled seventeen databases and

built machine-learning algorithms to predict her culinary preferences—”
Olive burst into laughter. “He did not.” She took a sip of water, still

smiling. “We only just started hanging out. At the beginning of the fall
semester.”

“Yes, but you knew each other from earlier.” Holden was frowning.
“You two met the year before you started your Ph.D. here, when you came

for your interview, and he’s been pining after you ever since.”
Olive shook her head and laughed, turning to Adam to share her
amusement. Except that Adam was staring at her already, and he did not

look amused. He looked . . . something else. Worried maybe, or apologetic,
or resigned. Panicky? And just like that, the restaurant was silent. The