The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

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“Nothing.” Her voice shook. It kept disappearingsomewhere, melting in the tears.“Olive.”“Really. Nothing.”Adam stared at her, questioning, and didn’t let go. “Didsomeone buy the last bag of chips?”A laugh bubbled out of her, wet and not wholly under hercontrol. “Yes. Was it you?”“Of course.” His thumb swiped across her cheekbone,stopping a falling tear. “I bought all of them.”This smile felt better than the one she’d cobbled togetherearlier. “I hope you have good health insurance, becauseyou’re so getting type 2 diabetes.”“Worth it.”“You monster.” She must have been leaning into his hand,because his thumb was stroking her again. Ever so gently.“Is that how you talk to your fake boyfriend?” He lookedso worried. His eyes, the line of his mouth. And yet—sopatient. “What happened, Olive?”She shook her head. “I just . . .”She couldn’t tell him. And she couldn’t not tell him. Butabove all, she couldn’t tell him.Who do you think Adam will believe, Olive?She had to take a deep breath. Push Tom’s voice out of herhead and calm herself before continuing. Come up withsomething to say, something that wouldn’t make the sky fall inthis hotel room.“My talk. I thought it went okay. My friends said it did. Butthen I heard people talking about it, and they said . . .” Adam

really should stop touching her. She must be getting his wholehand wet. The sleeve of his blazer, too.“What did they say?”“Nothing. That it was derivative. Boring. That Istammered. They knew that I’m your girlfriend and said thatwas the only reason I was chosen to give a talk.” She shookher head. She needed to let it go. To put it out of her head. Tothink carefully about what to do.“Who? Who were they?”Oh, Adam. “Someone. I’m not sure.”“Did you see their badges?”“I . . . didn’t pay attention.”“Were they on your panel?” There was somethingunderneath his tone. Something pressing that hinted atviolence and rage and broken bones. Adam’s hand was stillgentle on her cheek, but his eyes narrowed. There was a newtension in his jaw, and Olive felt a shiver run down her spine.“No,” she lied. “It doesn’t matter. It’s okay.”His lips pressed into a straight line, his nostrils flared, soshe added, “I don’t care what people think of me, anyway.”“Right,” he scoffed.This Adam, right here, was the moody, irascible Adam whograds in her program complained about. Olive shouldn’t havebeen surprised to see him this angry, but he’d never been likethis with her before.“No, really, I don’t care what people say—”“I know you don’t. But that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Hestared at her, and he was so close. She could see how theyellows and greens mixed into the clear brown of his eyes.

“Nothing.” Her voice shook. It kept disappearing

somewhere, melting in the tears.

“Olive.”

“Really. Nothing.”

Adam stared at her, questioning, and didn’t let go. “Did

someone buy the last bag of chips?”

A laugh bubbled out of her, wet and not wholly under her

control. “Yes. Was it you?”

“Of course.” His thumb swiped across her cheekbone,

stopping a falling tear. “I bought all of them.”

This smile felt better than the one she’d cobbled together

earlier. “I hope you have good health insurance, because

you’re so getting type 2 diabetes.”

“Worth it.”

“You monster.” She must have been leaning into his hand,

because his thumb was stroking her again. Ever so gently.

“Is that how you talk to your fake boyfriend?” He looked

so worried. His eyes, the line of his mouth. And yet—so

patient. “What happened, Olive?”

She shook her head. “I just . . .”

She couldn’t tell him. And she couldn’t not tell him. But

above all, she couldn’t tell him.

Who do you think Adam will believe, Olive?

She had to take a deep breath. Push Tom’s voice out of her

head and calm herself before continuing. Come up with

something to say, something that wouldn’t make the sky fall in

this hotel room.

“My talk. I thought it went okay. My friends said it did. But

then I heard people talking about it, and they said . . .” Adam

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