The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

faint yellow lights. “And I’d been . . . I’d been thinking about
you. For years. And I didn’t want to . . .”
She could only imagine. They’d passed each other in the
hallways, been at countless department research symposiums
and seminars together. She hadn’t thought anything of it, but
now . . . now she wondered what he had thought.
He’d been going on and on about this amazing girl for
years, but he was concerned about being in the same
department, Holden had said.
And Olive had assumed so much. She had been so wrong.
“You didn’t need to lie, you know,” she said, not accusing.
He adjusted the strap of her suitcase on his shoulder. “I
didn’t.”
“You sort of did. By omission.”
“True. Are you . . .” He pressed his lips together. “Are you
upset?”
“No, not really. It’s really not that bad a lie.”
“It’s not?”
She nibbled on her thumbnail for a moment. “I’ve said
much worse, myself. And I didn’t bring up our meeting, either,
even after I made the connection.”
“Still, if you feel—”
“I’m not upset,” she said, gentle but final. She looked up at
him, willing him to understand. Trying to figure out how to
tell him. How to show him. “I am . . . other things.” She
smiled. “Glad, for instance. That you remembered me, from
that day.”
“You . . .” A pause. “You are very memorable.”
“Ha. I’m not, really. I was no one—part of a huge
incoming cohort.” She snorted and looked down to her feet.