The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

Of course. “Well.” She scratched her nose. “I wouldn’t tell
her. I don’t think she’ll pay too much attention.”
“But she’ll notice if you’re staying one hour away.”
“I . . .” Yes. They would notice, and ask questions, and
Olive would have to come up with a bunch of excuses and
even more half-truths to deal with it. Add a few blocks to this
Jenga tower of lies she’d been building for weeks. “I’ll figure
it out.”
He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault.”
“One could argue that it is, in fact, my fault.”
“Not at all.”
“I would offer to pay for your hotel room, but I doubt
there’s anything left in a ten-mile radius.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head emphatically. “And I
wouldn’t accept it. It’s not a cup of coffee. And a scone. And a
cookie. And a pumpkin Frappuccino.” She batted her eyes at
him and leaned forward, trying to change the topic. “Which,
by the way, is new on the menu. You could totally buy it for
me, and that would make my day.”
“Sure.” He looked slightly nauseous.
“Awesome.” She grinned. “I think it’s cheaper today, some
kind of Tuesday sale, so—”
“But you could room with me.”
The way he put it forward, calm and sensible, almost made
it sound like it was no big deal. And Olive almost fell for it,
until her ears and brain seemed to finally connect with each
other and she was able to process the meaning of what he’d
just said.
That she.