The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

who hugged her and started talking so loudly and rapidly, she
could barely make out the words—though she did catch the
terms “paradigm-shifting,” “life-altering,” and “watershed
moment in history.”
They chattered their way to Olive’s unused bed and sat
down. After a few more moments of overlapping babbling,
Olive decided to intervene and lifted her hands.
“Hold on.” She was already coming down with a headache.
Today was going to be a nightmare, for so many reasons.
“What happened?”
“The weirdest thing,” Anh said.
“Coolest,” Malcolm interrupted. “She means coolest.”
“Where were you, Ol? You said you were going to join us.”
“Here. I just, um, was tired after my talk, and fell asleep
and—”
“Lame, Ol, very lame, but I have no time to berate you for
your lameness because I need to catch you up with what
happened last night—”
“I should tell her,” Malcolm gave Anh a scathing look.
“Since it’s about me.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded with a flourishing gesture.
Malcolm smiled, pleased, and cleared his throat. “Ol, who
have I been wanting to have sex with for the past several
years?”
“Uh . . .” She scratched her temple. Off the top of her head,
she could name about thirty people. “Victoria Beckham?”
“No. Well, yes. But no.”
“David Beckham?”
“Also yes. But no.”
“The other Spice Girl? The one in the Adidas tracksuit—”