Page 314 - The Love Hypothesis

impossible to tell, in the starless sky and the faint yellow lights. “And I’d

been . . . I’d been thinking about you. For years. And I didn’t want to . . .”
She could only imagine. They’d passed each other in the hallways, been
at countless department research symposiums and seminars together. She

hadn’t thought anything of it, but now . . . now she wondered what he had
thought.

He’d been going on and on about this amazing girl for years, but he was
concerned about being in the same department, Holden had said.

And Olive had assumed so much. She had been so wrong.
“You didn’t need to lie, you know,” she said, not accusing.

He adjusted the strap of her suitcase on his shoulder. “I didn’t.”
“You sort of did. By omission.”
“True. Are you . . .” He pressed his lips together. “Are you upset?”

“No, not really. It’s really not that bad a lie.”
“It’s not?”

She nibbled on her thumbnail for a moment. “I’ve said much worse,
myself. And I didn’t bring up our meeting, either, even after I made the

connection.”
“Still, if you feel—”

“I’m not upset,” she said, gentle but final. She looked up at him, willing
him to understand. Trying to figure out how to tell him. How to show him.
“I am . . . other things.” She smiled. “Glad, for instance. That you

remembered me, from that day.”
“You . . .” A pause. “You are very memorable.”

“Ha. I’m not, really. I was no one—part of a huge incoming cohort.” She
snorted and looked down to her feet. Her steps had to be much quicker than

his to keep up with his longer legs. “I hated my first year. It was so
stressful.”

He glanced at her, surprised. “Do you remember your first seminar
talk?”
“I do. Why?”

“Your elevator pitch—you called it a turbolift pitch. You put a picture
from The Next Generation on your slides.”