The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

she’d sent. “To make sure I understand your protocols
correctly.”
When Adam came back twenty minutes later, hair damp
and wearing one of his ten million black Henleys that were all
a tiny bit different and yet still managed to fit him in the most
irritatingly perfect way, she was just wrapping up an
explanation of her RNA analyses. Tom was taking notes on his
laptop.
“Whenever you guys are done, I can give you a ride back
to campus, Olive,” Adam offered. “I need to drive in,
anyway.”
“We’re done,” Tom said, still typing. “She’s all yours.”
Oh. Olive nodded and gingerly stood up. Tom hadn’t given
her an answer yet. He’d asked lots of interesting, smart
questions about her project, but he hadn’t told her whether he
wanted to work with her next year. Did it mean that the answer
was a no, but he’d rather not communicate it to Olive in her
“boyfriend’s” home? What if he’d never really thought that her
work was worth funding? What if he’d just been faking it
because Adam was his friend? Adam had said that Tom wasn’t
like that, but what if he’d been wrong and now—
“You ready to go?” Adam asked. She grabbed her
backpack, trying to collect herself. She was fine. This was
fine. She could cry about this later.
“Sure.” She rocked once on her heels, giving Tom one last
look. Sadly, he seemed taken with his laptop. “Bye, Tom. It
was nice to meet you. Have a safe trip home.”
“Likewise,” he said, not even glancing at her. “I had lots of
interesting conversations.”
“Yeah.” It must have been the section on genome-based
prognostics, she thought, following Adam out of the room.
She’d suspected it was too weak, but she’d been stupid and