The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

Cherie just standing there, chatting leisurely with Carlsen? Do
they want us to bring them tea and cucumber sandwiches?”
Olive looked around, searching for Adam’s tall frame.
“Oh yeah, there’s Carlsen,” Anh said. Olive looked where
she was pointing, just in time to see Cherie get back behind the
wheel and Adam jogging around the truck.
“What is he—” was all Olive managed to say, before he
came to a stop, put his hands on the back of the truck in
neutral, and started . . .
Pushing.
His shoulders and biceps strained his Henley. The firm
muscles of his upper back visibly shifted and tensed under the
black fabric as he bent forward and rolled several tons of truck
across . . . quite a bit of a distance and into the closest empty
parking space.
Oh.
There was some applause and whistling from bystanders
when the truck was out of the way, and a couple of faculty
members from neuroscience clapped Adam on the shoulder as
the line of cars started driving out of the lot.
“Fucking finally,” Olive heard Greg say from behind her,
and she stood there, blinking, a little shocked. Had she
hallucinated it? Had Adam really just pushed a giant truck all
by himself? Was he an alien from planet Krypton who
moonlighted as a superhero?
“Ol, go give him a kiss.”
Olive whirled around, abruptly reminded of Anh’s
existence. “What?” No. No. “I’m good. I just said goodbye to
him a minute ago and—”
“Ol, why don’t you want to go kiss your boyfriend?”
Ugh. “I . . . It’s not that I don’t want to. I just—”