The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

far away. Possibly because Olive couldn’t stop thinking about
what Anh had proposed, which was just . . .
“Anh, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Olive mumbled under
her breath, avoiding glancing in Adam’s direction.
Anh gave her a look. “Why? You’re taking up space we
don’t have, and it’s only logical that you use Carlsen as a
chair. I would, but he’s your boyfriend, not mine.”
For a moment, Olive tried to imagine what Adam would do
if Anh decided to sit on his lap, and figured that it would
probably end up involving someone being murdered and
someone doing the murdering—she wasn’t sure who’d be
doing what. The mental image was so ridiculous that she
almost giggled out loud. Then she noticed the way Anh was
looking at her expectantly. “Anh, I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because. This is a scientific talk.”
“Psh. Remember last year, when Jess and Alex made out
for half of that CRISPR lecture?”
“I do—and it was weird.”
“Nah, it wasn’t. Also, Malcolm swears that during a
seminar he saw that tall guy from immunology get a hand job
from—”
“Anh.”
“The point is, no one cares.” Anh’s expression softened
into a plea. “And this girl’s elbow is puncturing my right lung,
and I have about thirty seconds of air left. Please, Olive.”
Olive turned to face Adam. Who was, very unsurprisingly,
looking up at her with that nonexpression of his, the one that
Olive couldn’t quite decipher. Except that his jaw was
working, and she wondered if maybe this was it. The last
straw. The moment he backed out of their arrangement.