The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

She sighed. “You know, when I have no more friends and
everyone hates me because of this fake-dating thing, I’ll be
super lonely and you are going to have to hang out with me
every day. I’ll annoy you all the time. Is it really worth being
mean to every grad in the program?”
“Absolutely.”
She sighed again, this time with a smile, and let the side of
her head rest on his shoulder. It might have been a bit forward,
but it felt natural—maybe because they seemed to have a
knack for getting themselves in situations that required PDA
of some sort, maybe because of everything they’d been talking
about, maybe because of the hour of the night. Adam . . . well,
he didn’t act as if he minded. He was just there, quiet, relaxed,
warm and solid through the cotton of his black shirt under her
temple. It felt like a long time before he broke the silence.
“I’m not sorry for asking Greg to revise his proposal. But I
am sorry that I created a situation that led him to take it out on
you. That as long as this continues, it might happen again.”
“Well, I am sorry about the texts I sent,” she said again.
“And you’re fine. Even if you’re antagonistic and
unapproachable.”
“Good to hear.”
“I should go back to the lab.” She sat up, one hand coming
to massage the base of her neck. “My disastrous blotting is not
going to fix itself.”
Adam blinked, and there was a gleam in his eyes, as if he
hadn’t thought she’d leave so soon. As if he’d have liked for
her to stay. “Why disastrous?”
She groaned. “It’s just . . .” She reached for her phone and
tapped on the home button, pulling up a picture of her last
Western blot. “See?” She pointed at the target protein. “This—
it shouldn’t . . .”