The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

She was in an excellent mood until two hours later, when
she entered the biology TA meeting and a sudden silence
dropped in the room. About fifteen pairs of eyes fixed on her
—not a reaction she was accustomed to receiving.
“Uh—hi?”
A couple of people said hi back. Most averted their gazes.
Olive told herself that she was just imagining things. Must be
low blood sugar. Or high. One of the two.
“Hey, Olive.” A seventh-year who had never before
acknowledged her existence moved his backpack and freed the
seat next to his. “How are you?”
“Good.” She sat down gingerly, trying to keep the
suspicion from her tone. “Um, you?”
“Great.”
There was something about his smile. Something salacious
and fake. Olive was considering asking about it when the head
TA managed to get the projector to work and called everyone’s
attention to the meeting.
After that, things became even weirder. Dr. Aslan stopped
by the lab just to ask Olive if there was anything she’d like to
talk about; Chase, a grad in her lab, let her use the PCR
machine first, even though he usually hoarded it like a third
grader with his last piece of Halloween candy; the lab manager
winked at Olive as he handed her a stack of blank paper for the
printer. And then she met Malcolm in the all-gender restroom,
completely by chance, and suddenly everything made sense.
“You sneaky monster,” he hissed. His black eyes were
almost comically narrow. “I’ve been texting you all day.”
“Oh.” Olive patted the back pocket of her jeans, and then
the front one, trying to remember the last time she had seen
her phone. “I think I might have left my phone at home.”