The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“Uh . . .” Adam’s frown deepened, and so did Malcolm’s
facepalm. Holden waited pointedly for an answer, and Olive
watched it all unfold, wondering if she should take out her
phone and film this car crash. “I have no recollection of that
committee meeting. Though it does sound like something I
would say.”
“Great. Now tell Malcolm it wasn’t personal, so we can
move on and have fried rice.”
“Oh my God,” Malcolm muttered. “Holden, please.”
“I’m not having fried rice,” Adam said.
“You can have raw bamboo while the normal people have
fried rice. But as of right now, my boyfriend thinks that his
BFF’s boyfriend and my own BFF has it out for him, and it’s
cramping my double-dating style, so please.”
Adam blinked slowly. “BFF?”
“Adam.” Holden pointed at a grimacing Malcolm with his
thumb. “Now, please.”
Adam sighed heavily, but he turned to Malcolm.
“Whatever I said or did, it was not personal. I’ve been told that
I can be needlessly antagonistic. And unapproachable.”
Olive didn’t get to see Malcolm’s reaction. Because she
was busy studying Adam and the slight curl on his lips, the
one that became an almost smile when he looked at Olive and
met her eyes. For a second, the brief second she held his gaze
before he looked away, it was just the two of them. And this
sort-of-past they shared, their stupid inside jokes, the way
they’d teased each other in the late-summer sunlight.
“Perfect.” Holden clapped his hands, intrusively loud. “Egg
rolls for appetizer, yes?”
It was a good idea, this dinner. This night, this table, this
moment. Sitting next to Adam, smelling the petrichor,