The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood
“An obscenity, isn’t it? It’s much needed.” She crumpledher too-short dress into a ball and stuffed it inside her bag,fantasizing that she was stuffing Tom’s throat. “If I wereAmerican, I’d totally run for Congress on that platform.”“Should we fake-marry, so you can get citizenship?”Her heart stumbled. “Oh, yes. I think it’s time we fakemove-to-the-next-level.”“So”—he tapped at his phone—“I’m just googling ‘deadhorse,’ plus the title of whatever movie sounds good.”“That’s what I usually do.” She padded across the roomuntil she was standing next to him. “What do you have?”“This one’s about a linguistics professor who’s asked tohelp decipher an alien—”He glanced up from his phone, and immediately fell silent.His mouth opened and then shut, and his eyes skittered to herthighs, her feet, her unicorn knee socks, and quickly back toher face. No, not her face: some point above her shoulder. Hecleared his throat before saying, “Glad it . . . fits.” He waslooking at his phone again. His grip on the remote hadtightened.It was a long beat before she realized that he was referringto his T-shirt. “Oh, yeah.” She grinned. “Exactly my size,right?” It was so large that it covered pretty much the sameamount of skin her dress had, but was soft and comfortablelike an old shoe. “Maybe I won’t give it back.”“It’s all yours.”She rocked on her heels, and wondered if it would be okayif she sat next to him now. It was only convenient, since theyhad to choose a movie together. “Can I really sleep in it thisweek?”“Of course. I’ll be gone tomorrow, anyway.”
“Oh.” She knew that, of course. She’d known the first timehe’d told her, a couple of weeks ago; she’d known thismorning when she’d boarded the plane in San Francisco, andshe’d known mere hours ago, when she’d used that precisepiece of information to comfort herself that no matter howawkward and stressful, her stay with Adam would at least beshort-lived. Except that it wasn’t awkward now. And it wasn’tstressful. Not nearly as much as the idea of being apart fromhim for several days. Of being here, of all places, without him.“How big is your suitcase?”“Hm?”“Can I come with you?”He looked up at her, still smiling, but he must’ve noticedsomething in her eyes, behind the joke and the attempt athumor. Something vulnerable and imploring that she’d failedto adequately bury within herself.“Olive.” He dropped his phone and the remote on the bed.“Don’t let them.”She just tilted her head. She was not going to cry again.There was no point in it. And she was not like this—thisfragile, defenseless creature who second-guessed herself atevery turn. At least, she didn’t use to be. God, she hated TomBenton.“Let them?”“Don’t let them ruin this conference for you. Or science. Ormake you feel any less proud of your accomplishments.”She looked down, studying the yellow of her socks as sheburied her toes in the soft carpet. And then up to him again.“You know what’s really sad about this?”He shook his head, and Olive continued.
- Page 218 and 219: “Well.” He fidgeted with the ca
- Page 220 and 221: “You’re not mad, right?”“I
- Page 222 and 223: Possibilities. That’s what Adam
- Page 224 and 225: them. I do hate that I love them, t
- Page 226 and 227: Could room.With him.Olive knew full
- Page 228 and 229: She huffed, crossing her arms over
- Page 230 and 231: “No.” She winced.“Is it the p
- Page 232 and 233: “Adam, I’m pretty sure that if
- Page 234 and 235: me to cry under the shower?”“Th
- Page 236 and 237: to my professional career, general
- Page 238 and 239: “Hey.” Olive forced her face in
- Page 240 and 241: “What is it?”“Calories. To fu
- Page 242 and 243: She rolled her eyes. “For Dr. Asl
- Page 244 and 245: It didn’t go perfectly, either. S
- Page 246 and 247: friends, but maybe she could buy hi
- Page 248 and 249: “A pretty girl like you should kn
- Page 250 and 251: to spending more time with you next
- Page 252 and 253: “Nothing.” Her voice shook. It
- Page 254 and 255: “It’s not what they say. It’s
- Page 256 and 257: “And I keynote-spoke.” He grabb
- Page 258 and 259: “Um . . . I’m wearing heels, he
- Page 260 and 261: She moved closer to him and grasped
- Page 262 and 263: “It’s appalling.”“—or the
- Page 264 and 265: like having a thousand little splin
- Page 266 and 267: well on her way to wasted by that p
- Page 270 and 271: “For a moment there, during the t
- Page 272 and 273: “The opposite of discipline and h
- Page 274 and 275: Adam shook his head. “He wanted a
- Page 276 and 277: all of it, maybe it was always goin
- Page 278 and 279: “Olive.” He sighed heavily, clo
- Page 280: It was a little embarrassing, the a
- Page 283 and 284: studying her, it brooked no self-co
- Page 285 and 286: “No.” He shook his head. “Not
- Page 287 and 288: And I bet you do this all the time,
- Page 289 and 290: —IT TOOK HER the longest time to
- Page 291 and 292: Yes.“Fuck,” someone said. It wa
- Page 293 and 294: orgasm, and the taut stretch of it,
- Page 295 and 296: “Inside you?”“If you—”Ada
- Page 298 and 299: Oh. Maybe, now that they had sex—
- Page 300 and 301: “What?” She gasped and freed he
- Page 302 and 303: finally belonging that seemed to ge
- Page 304 and 305: Slowly, precisely, she wrapped her
- Page 306 and 307: “The book you’re reading. With
- Page 308 and 309: “Who needs to know how to say ‘
- Page 310 and 311: He rolled his tongue inside his che
- Page 312 and 313: “Okay.” She leaned forward and
- Page 315 and 316: who hugged her and started talking
- Page 317 and 318: “He was shameless, Ol. And glorio
“Oh.” She knew that, of course. She’d known the first time
he’d told her, a couple of weeks ago; she’d known this
morning when she’d boarded the plane in San Francisco, and
she’d known mere hours ago, when she’d used that precise
piece of information to comfort herself that no matter how
awkward and stressful, her stay with Adam would at least be
short-lived. Except that it wasn’t awkward now. And it wasn’t
stressful. Not nearly as much as the idea of being apart from
him for several days. Of being here, of all places, without him.
“How big is your suitcase?”
“Hm?”
“Can I come with you?”
He looked up at her, still smiling, but he must’ve noticed
something in her eyes, behind the joke and the attempt at
humor. Something vulnerable and imploring that she’d failed
to adequately bury within herself.
“Olive.” He dropped his phone and the remote on the bed.
“Don’t let them.”
She just tilted her head. She was not going to cry again.
There was no point in it. And she was not like this—this
fragile, defenseless creature who second-guessed herself at
every turn. At least, she didn’t use to be. God, she hated Tom
Benton.
“Let them?”
“Don’t let them ruin this conference for you. Or science. Or
make you feel any less proud of your accomplishments.”
She looked down, studying the yellow of her socks as she
buried her toes in the soft carpet. And then up to him again.
“You know what’s really sad about this?”
He shook his head, and Olive continued.
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