Page 308 - The Love Hypothesis

pitter-patter of rain on the windows, people’s chatter, the clinking of

silverware—it all receded; the floor tilted, shook a little, and the AC was
just this side of too cold. At some point, Adam’s fingers had let go of her
wrist.

Olive thought back to the bathroom incident. To burning eyes and wet
cheeks, the smell of reagent and clean, male skin. The blur of a large, dark

figure standing in front of her with his deep, reassuring, amused voice. The
panic of being twenty-three and alone and having no idea what she should

be doing, where she should be going, what the right choice was.
Is mine a good enough reason to go to grad school?

It’s the best one.
All of a sudden, things had seemed simple enough.
It had been Adam, after all. Olive had been right.

What she hadn’t been right about was whether he remembered her.
“Yes,” she said. She wasn’t smiling anymore. Adam was still holding

her gaze. “I guess he has.”