The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“You’re not mad, right?”
“I . . .” Yes. No. Maybe a little. “No. It’s not your fault.”
She hugged Malcolm back when he leaned into her, reassuring
him with a few awkward pats on the shoulder. As much as
she’d have liked to blame him for this, she only had to look at
herself. The crux of her problems—most of them, at least—
was her moronic, harebrained decision to lie to Anh in the first
place. To begin this fake-dating sham. Now she was giving a
talk at this stupid conference, probably after sleeping at a bus
station and eating moss for breakfast, and despite all of this
she couldn’t stop thinking about Adam. Just perfect.
Laptop under her arm, Olive headed back to the lab, the
prospect of getting her slides in order for her talk
simultaneously daunting and depressing. There was something
leaden and unpleasant weighing on her stomach, and on
impulse she made a detour to the restroom and entered the stall
farthest from the door, leaning against the wall until the back
of her head hit the cold tile surface.
When the weight in her belly began to feel too heavy, her
knees gave out on her and her back slid down until she sat on
the floor. Olive stayed like that for a long time, trying to
pretend that this wasn’t her life.