The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

Olive: Tom just invited me to your place to talk about the report I
Olive: Tomorrow at 9 a.m. Will you be home?
Adam: Probably. There are no bike lanes to my house. Do you need
Olive: My roommate can drive me, but thanks for offering.
TB
Olive’s heart beat faster—whether at the idea of being in
Adam’s home or at the thought of getting her answer from
Tom, she wasn’t sure. She immediately texted Adam.
him. Would it be okay if I came over?
sent
Of course. When?
Adam:
ride? I can pick you up.
a
She thought about it for a few moments and decided that
she liked the idea a little too much.
—
MALCOLM DROPPED HER off in front of a beautiful Spanish
colonial house with stucco walls and arched windows and
refused to back out of the driveway until Olive agreed to slide
a can of pepper spray in her backpack. She walked over the
brick-tile path and up to the entrance, marveling at the green
of the yard and at the cozy atmosphere of the porch. She was
about to ring the doorbell when she heard her name.
Adam was behind her, bathed in sweat and clearly just
back from his morning run. He was wearing sunglasses,
shorts, and a Princeton Undergrad Mathletes T-shirt that stuck
to his chest. Out of the ensemble, the only nonblack items
were the AirPods in his ears, peeking through the damp waves
of his hair. She felt her cheeks curve into a smile, trying to
imagine what he was listening to. Probably Coil, or Kraftwerk.