The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“I won’t force you to do anything. But whoever they were,
I want . . . I think you should consider filing a complaint.”
Oh God. God. Was this some cruel joke? “You really like
complaints, don’t you?” She laughed once, a weak attempt at
humor.
“I’m serious, Olive. And if you decide you want to do it,
I’ll help you however I can. I could come with you and talk
with SBD’s organizers, or we could go through Stanford’s
Title IX office—”
“No. I . . . Adam, no. I’m not going to file a complaint.”
She rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers, feeling as
though this was one giant, painful prank. Except that Adam
had no idea. He actually wanted to protect her, when all Olive
wanted was . . . to protect him. “I’ve already decided. It would
do more harm than good.”
“I know why you think that. I felt the same during grad
school, with my mentor. We all did. But there are ways to do
it. Whoever this person is, they—”
“Adam, I—” She ran one hand down her face. “I need you
to drop this. Please.”
He studied her, silent for several minutes, and then nodded.
“Okay. Of course.” He pushed away from the wall and
straightened, clearly unhappy to let the subject go but making
an effort to do so. “Would you like to go to dinner? There’s a
Mexican restaurant nearby. Or sushi—real sushi. And a movie
theater. Maybe there are one or two movies playing in which
horses don’t die.”
“I’m not . . . I’m not hungry, actually.”
“Oh.” His expression was teasing. Gentle. “I didn’t know
that was possible.”
“Me neither.” She chuckled weakly, and then forced herself
to continue. “Today is September twenty-ninth.”