The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“As a child. My . . .” She had to clear her throat. “My
mother would have to hold me in a bear hug every time I
needed a shot, or I’d thrash around too much. And she had to
bribe me with ice cream, but the problem was that I wanted it
immediately after my shot.” She laughed. “So she’d buy an ice
cream sandwich before the doctor’s appointment, and by the
time I was ready to eat, it’d be all melted in her purse and
make a huge mess and . . .”
Dammit. She was weepy, again. In front of Adam, again.
“She sounds lovely,” Adam said.
“She was.”
“And to be clear, I’m not afraid of needles,” he repeated.
This time, his tone was warm and kind. “They just feel . . .
disgusting.”
She sniffled and looked up at him. The temptation to hug
him was almost irresistible. But she’d already done that today,
so she made do with patting him on the arm. “Aww.”
He pinned her with a withering look. “Don’t aww me.”
Adorable. He was adorable. “No, really, they are gross.
Stuff pokes at you, and then you bleed. The feeling of it—
yikes.”
She got out of the car and waited for him to do the same.
When he joined her, she smiled at him reassuringly.
“I get it.”
“You do?” He didn’t seem convinced.
“Yep. They’re horrible.”
He was still a little distrustful. “They are.”
“And scary.” She wrapped her hand around his elbow and
began to pull him in the direction of the Fluchella tent. “Still,