The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“Who needs to know how to say ‘I love you’ in every
language? People barely need it in one. Sometimes not even in
one.” She smoothed his hair back with her fingers. “ ‘Where’s
the restroom?’ on the other hand . . .”
He leaned into her touch, as if soothed by it. “Waar is de
WC?”
Olive blinked.
“That would be ‘Where’s the restroom?’ ” he explained.
“Yeah, I figured. Just . . . your voice . . .” She cleared her
throat. She’d been better off without knowing how attractive
he sounded when speaking another language. “Anyway. That
would be a useful poster.” She brushed her finger against his
forehead. “What’s this from?”
“My face?”
“The little scar. The one above your eyebrow.”
“Ah. Just a stupid fight.”
“A fight?” She chuckled. “Did one of your grads try to kill
you?”
“Nah, I was a kid. Though I could see my grads pouring
acetonitrile in my coffee.”
“Oh, totally.” She nodded in agreement. “I have one, too.”
She pulled her hair behind her shoulder and showed him the
small, half-moon-shaped line right next to her temple.
“I know.”
“You know? About my scar?”
He nodded.
“When did you notice? It’s really faint.”
He shrugged and began tracing it with his thumb. “What’s
it from?”