The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“I don’t remember. But my mom said that when I was four
there was this huge snowstorm in Toronto. Inches upon inches
of snow piling up, the most intense in five decades, you know
the drill. And everyone knew it was coming, and she’d been
preparing me for days, telling me that we might end up stuck
at home for a few days. I was so excited about it that I ran
outside and dove headfirst into the snow—except that I did it
about half an hour after the storm had started, and ended up
hitting my head on a stone.” She laughed softly, and so did
Adam. It had been one of her mother’s favorite stories. And
now Olive was the only person who could tell it. It lived in
her, and no one else. “I miss the snow. California is beautiful,
and I hate the cold. But I really miss the snow.”
He continued stroking her scar, a faint smile on his lips.
And then, when the silence had settled around them, he said,
“Boston will have snow. Next year.”
Her heart thudded. “Yeah.” Except that she wouldn’t be
going to Boston, not anymore. She’d have to find another lab.
Or not work in a lab at all.
Adam’s hand traveled up her neck, closing gently around
her nape. “There are good trails for hiking, where Holden and
I used to go in grad school.” He hesitated before adding, “I’d
love to take you.”
She closed her eyes, and for a second she let herself
imagine it. The black of Adam’s hair against the white snow
and the deep greens of the trees. Her boots sinking into the soft
ground. Cold air flowing inside her lungs, and a warm hand
wrapping around her own. She could almost see the flakes,
fluttering behind her eyelids. Bliss.
“You’ll be in California, though,” she said distractedly.
A pause. Too long.
Olive opened her eyes. “Adam?”