The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“Man. Six years old.” Malcolm shook his head and wiped
his eyes.
“I was sick.”
“Still. Seems kind of old to have an accident?”
Adam simply stared at Malcolm until he lowered his gaze.
“Uh, maybe not that old after all,” he muttered.
There was a large bowl of fortune cookies by the register.
Olive noticed it on her way out of the restaurant, let out a
delighted squeal, and dipped her hand in to fish out four
plastic packages. She handed one each to Malcolm and
Holden, and held out another for Adam with a mischievous
smile. “You hate these, don’t you?”
“I don’t.” He accepted the cookie. “I just think they taste
like Styrofoam.”
“Probably have similar nutritional values, too,” Malcolm
muttered as they slipped out into the chilly humidity of the
early night. Surprisingly, he and Adam were finding lots of
common ground.
It wasn’t raining anymore, but the street was shiny in the
light under a lamppost; a soft breeze made the leaves rustle
and stray drops of water scatter to the ground. The air was
fresh in Olive’s lungs, pleasantly so after the hours spent in the
restaurant. She unrolled her sleeves, accidentally brushing her
hand against Adam’s abs. She smiled up at him, playfully
apologetic; he flushed and averted his eyes.
“ ‘He who laughs at himself never runs out of things to
laugh at.’ ” Holden popped a bit of fortune cookie in his
mouth, blinking at the message inside. “Is that shade?” He
looked around, indignant. “Did this fortune cookie just throw
shade at me?”
“Sounds like it,” Malcolm answered. “Mine says ‘Why not
treat yourself to a good time instead of waiting for somebody