The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

and maybe it was because he was as tall as Mount Everest and
his shoulders were just as large, but Carlsen was the very first
thing she noticed. He was peering at a Southern blot next to
Alex, a grad who was one year ahead of Olive, but he turned
toward the entrance the moment she came in.
Olive smiled weakly at him—mainly out of relief at having
found him.
It was going to be all right. She was going to explain to
him what Malcolm had told her, and without a doubt he was
going to find the situation categorically unacceptable and fix it
for the both of them, because Olive could not spend her next
three years surrounded by people who thought that she was
dating Adam freaking Carlsen.
The problem was, Carlsen wasn’t the only one to notice
Olive. There were over a dozen benches in the lab, and at least
ten people working at them. Most of them—all of them—were
staring at Olive. Probably because most of them—all of them
—had heard that Olive was dating their boss.
Fuck her life.
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Dr. Carlsen?” Rationally,
Olive knew that the lab was not furnished in a way that made
echoing possible. Still, she felt as though her words bounced
off the walls and repeated about four times.
Carlsen nodded, nonplussed, and handed the Southern blot
to Alex before heading in her direction. He appeared either
unaware or uncaring that approximately two-thirds of his lab
members were gaping at him. The remaining ones seemed to
be on the verge of a hemorrhagic stroke.
He led Olive to a meeting room just outside the main lab
space, and she followed him silently, trying not to dwell on the
fact that a lab full of people who thought that she and Carlsen
were dating had just seen them enter a private room. Alone.