The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

on her door, it was already the middle of the afternoon, and
she’d added three new names to her list. She quickly put on
clothes to answer, expecting housekeeping. When Anh and
Malcolm stormed inside, she cursed herself for never checking
the peephole. She truly deserved to be axed by a serial killer.
“Okay,” Anh said, throwing herself onto Olive’s still-made
bed, “you have two sentences to convince me that I shouldn’t
be mad at you for forgetting to ask how my outreach event
went.”
“Shit!” Olive covered her mouth with her hand. “I am so
sorry. How did it go?”
“Perfect.” Anh’s eyes were shiny with happiness. “We had
such great attendance and everyone loved it. We’re thinking of
making this a yearly thing, and formally establishing an
organization. Peer-to-peer mentoring! Hear this: every grad is
assigned two undergrads. Once they get into grad school, they
mentor two more undergrads each. And in ten years we take
over the entire damn world.”
Olive looked at her, speechless. “This is . . . you’re
amazing.”
“I am, aren’t I? Okay, now’s your turn to grovel. Aaand,
go.”
Olive opened her mouth, but for a long time nothing really
came out. “I don’t really have an excuse. I was just busy
with . . . something Dr. Aslan asked me to finish.”
“This is ridiculous. You are in Boston. You should be out
there in an Irish pub pretending you love the Red Sox and
eating Dunkies, not doing work. For your boss.”
“We’re technically here for a work conference,” Olive
pointed out.
“Conference shmonference.” Malcolm joined Anh on the
bed.