The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“It’s not what they say. It’s what you think. It’s that you think
they’re right. Don’t you?”
Her mouth was full of cotton. “I . . .”
“Olive. You are a great scientist. And you will become an
even better one.” The way he was looking at her, so earnest
and serious—it was going to break her. “Whatever this asshole
said, it speaks nothing of you and a whole lot of them.” His
fingers shifted on her skin to weave through the hair behind
her ear. “Your work is brilliant.”
She didn’t even think it through. And even if she had, she
probably couldn’t have stopped herself. She just leaned
forward and hid her face in his neck, hugging him tight. A
terrible idea, stupid and inappropriate, and Adam was surely
going to push her away, any minute now, except that . . .
His palm slid to her nape, almost as if to press her into him,
and Olive just stayed there for long minutes, crying warm tears
into the flesh of his throat, feeling how grounding, how warm,
how solid he was—under her fingers and in her life.
You just had to go and make me fall for you, she thought,
blinking against his skin. You absolute ass.
He didn’t let her go. Not until she pulled back and wiped
her cheeks again, feeling like maybe this time around she’d be
able to hold it together. She sniffled, and he leaned over to
grab a box of tissues from the TV table. “I really am fine.”
He sighed.
“Okay, maybe . . . maybe I’m not fine right now, but I will
be.” She accepted the tissue that he plucked for her and blew
her nose. “I just need a while to . . .”
He studied her and nodded, his eyes unreadable again.
“Thank you. For what you said. For letting me snot all over
your hotel room.”