The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

Olive smiled into her knees, because she could totally
imagine Adam saying that. Could almost hear his voice in her
head. “No. Not yet, at least.”
“What’s he like, then?”
She opened her mouth to answer, thinking it would be easy.
Of course, it was everything but. “He’s just . . . you know.”
“We don’t,” Anh said. “There must be more to him than
meets the eye. He’s so moody and negative and angry and—”
“He’s not,” Olive interrupted. And then regretted it a little,
because it wasn’t entirely true. “He can be. But he can not be,
too.”
“If you say so.” Anh seemed unconvinced. “How did you
even start dating? You never told me.”
“Oh.” Olive looked away and let her gaze wander. Adam
must have just done something noteworthy, because he and Dr.
Rodrigues were exchanging a high five. She noticed Tom
staring at her from the field and waved at him with a smile.
“Um, we just talked. And then got coffee. And then . . .”
“How does that even happen?” Jeremy interrupted, clearly
skeptical. “How does one decide to say yes to a date with
Carlsen? Before seeing him half-naked, anyway.”
You kiss him. You kiss him, and then, next thing you know,
he’s saving your ass and he’s buying you scones and calling
you a smart-ass in a weirdly affectionate tone, and even when
he’s being his moody asshole self, he doesn’t seem to be that
bad. Or bad at all. And then you tell him to fuck off over the
phone and possibly ruin everything.
“He just asked me out. And I said yes.” Though it was
obviously a lie. Someone with a Lancet publication and back
muscles that defined would never ask someone like Olive out.
“So you didn’t meet on Tinder?”