The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

Olive chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to come up
with something meaningful to say and failing miserably. “I’m
really sorry.”
“Olive, do you guys talk about this stuff?” Chase asked out
of the blue, eyeing her suspiciously. “Did he tell you he wasn’t
going to pass Greg?”
“What? No. No, I . . .” I talk to him for exactly fifteen
minutes a week. And, okay, I’ve kissed him. Twice. And I sat on
his lap. Once. But it’s just that, and Adam—he speaks very
little. I actually wish he spoke more, since I know nothing
about him, and I’d like to know at least something. “No, he
doesn’t. I think it would be against regulations if he did.”
“God.” Greg slammed his palm against the edge of the
bench, making her jump. “He’s such a dick. What a sadistic
piece of shit.”
Olive opened her mouth to—to do what, precisely? To
defend Adam? He was a dick. She had seen him be a dick. In
full action. Maybe not recently, and maybe not to her, but if
she’d wanted to count on her fingers the number of
acquaintances who’d ended up in tears because of him,
well . . . She would need both her hands, and then her toes.
Maybe borrow some of Chase’s, too.
“Did he say why, at least? What you have to change?”
“Everything. He wants me to change my control condition
and add another one, which is going to make the project ten
times more time-consuming. And the way he said it, his air of
superiority—he is so arrogant.”
Well. It was no news, really. Olive scratched her temple,
trying not to sigh. “It sucks. I’m sorry,” she repeated once
more, at a loss for anything better and genuinely feeling for
Greg.