Page 309 - The Love Hypothesis

Chapter Twenty-Two

HYPOTHESIS: When given a choice between A (telling a lie) and B (telling
the truth), I will inevitably end up selecting . . .
No. Not this time.

Olive had no doubt that Holden’s tales were highly embellished and the

result of years of comedy workshopping, but she still couldn’t help laughing
harder than ever before.

“And I’m awakened by this waterfall pouring down on me—”
Adam rolled his eyes. “It was a drop.”

“And I’m asking myself why it’s raining inside the cabin, when I realize
that it’s coming from the top bunk and that Adam, who was, like, thirteen at
the time—”

“Six. I was six, and you were seven.”
“Had pissed the bed, and the piss was seeping through the mattress and

onto me.”
Olive’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, not quite succeeding at hiding
her amusement—just like she’d failed when Holden had recounted that a

dalmatian puppy had once bitten Adam’s ass through his jeans, or that he’d
been voted “Most likely to make people cry” in his senior yearbook.

At least Adam didn’t act embarrassed, and not nearly as upset as he’d
seemed after Holden had talked about him pining after her. Which

explained . . . so many things.
Everything, maybe.

“Man. Six years old.” Malcolm shook his head and wiped his eyes.