The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

even an entire paper towel roll wouldn’t have been enough to
hide what she’d been up to. Really, though, it wasn’t Olive’s
fault. She’d been sure Adam had to attend the opening
ceremony, or at least the department social after his talk.
Wasn’t he on the social-and-networking committee? He should
have been elsewhere. Socializing. Networking. Committeeing.
But here he was. Olive heard steps as he walked inside,
then him stopping at the entrance of the bedroom, and . . .
She couldn’t convince her eyes to meet his. She was a mess
after all, a miserable, disastrous mess. But she should at least
attempt to divert Adam’s attention. Maybe by saying
something. Anything.
“Hey.” She tried a smile, but continued to stare down at her
own hands. “How did your address go?”
“What happened?” His voice was calm, pitched low.
“Did you only just finish?” Her smile was holding. Good.
Good, that was good. “How was the Q and A—”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I . . .”
She didn’t manage to finish the sentence. And the smile—
which, if she was honest with herself, hadn’t been much of a
smile to begin with—was crumbling. Olive heard Adam come
closer but didn’t look at him. Her closed eyelids were all that
was keeping the floodgates shut, and they weren’t doing a
good job of it, either.
She startled when she found him kneeling in front of her.
Right by her chair, his head level with hers, studying her with
a worried frown. She made to hide her face in her palms, but
his hand came up to her chin and lifted it up, until she had no
choice but to meet his eyes. Then his fingers slid up to her
cheek, cupping it as he asked, yet again, “Olive. What
happened?”