The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

torso. He didn’t say anything but angled himself a little, just to
help her fit more comfortably.
Somewhere halfway through the talk she realized that she
had been sliding down Adam’s thigh. Or, to be fair, Adam
realized and lifted her up, straightening her in a firm, quick
pull that made her feel like she really didn’t weigh anything.
Once she was stable again, he didn’t move his arm from where
it was snaked around her waist. The talk had been happening
for thirty-five minutes going on a century, so no one could
blame Olive if she sank into him a little bit more.
It was fine. It was more than fine, actually. It was nice.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he murmured. She felt his lips move
against the tendrils of hair above her temple. It should have
been Olive’s cue to straighten, but she couldn’t quite make
herself.
“I’m not. Though you’re so comfy.”
His fingers tightened on her, maybe to wake her up, maybe
to hold her closer. She was about to melt off the chair and start
snoring.
“You look like you’re about to take a nap.”
“It’s just that I’ve read all of Tom’s articles. I already know
what he’s saying.”
“Yeah, same. We cited all this stuff in our grant proposal.”
He sighed, and she felt his body move under hers. “This is
dull.”
“Maybe you should ask a question. To liven this up.”
Adam turned slightly to her. “Me?”
She angled her head to speak in his ear. “I’m sure you can
come up with something. Just raise your hand and make a
mean observation with that tone of yours. Glare at him. It
might devolve into an entertaining outbreak of fisticuffs.”