The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“I’m sorry. It’s just . . . it’s the way it works. My mom. My
grandparents. My father—one way or another, everyone is
gone. If I let myself care, Adam will go, too.” There. She’d put
it into words, said it out loud, and it sounded all the truer
because of it.
Malcolm exhaled. “Oh, Ol.” He was one of the few people
to whom Olive had opened up about her fears—the constant
feeling of not belonging, the never-ending suspicions that
since so much of her life had been spent alone, then it would
end the same way. That she’d never be worthy of someone
caring for her. His knowing expression, a combination of
sorrow and understanding and pity, was unbearable to watch.
She looked elsewhere—at the laughing students, at the coffee
cup lids stacked next to the counter, at the stickers on a girl’s
MacBook—and slid her hand away from under his palm.
“You should go.” She attempted a smile, but it felt wobbly.
“Finish your surgeries.”
He didn’t break eye contact. “I care. Anh cares—Anh
would have chosen you over Jeremy. And you care, too. We all
care about one another, and I’m still here. I’m not going
anywhere.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
Olive didn’t bother answering and used her sleeve to dry
her cheek. Adam was different, and what Olive wanted from
him was different, but she couldn’t—didn’t want to articulate
it. Not now. “I won’t tell him.”
“Ol.”
“No,” she said, firm. With her tears gone, she felt
marginally better. Maybe she was not who she had thought,
but she could fake it. She could pretend, even to herself. “I’m
not going to tell him. It’s a horrible idea.”