The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

parents would be able to object to. At least, not too
strenuously. In the meantime, all he wanted was to have a grad
school experience that was as un-traumatizing as possible. Out
of everyone in Olive’s program, he was the one who best
managed to have a life outside of grad school. He did things
that were unimaginable to most grads, like cooking real food!
Going for hikes! Meditating! Acting in a play! Dating like it
was an Olympic sport! (“It is an Olympic sport, Olive. And I
am training for gold.”)
Which was why when Adam forced Malcolm to throw out
tons of data and redo half his study, it made for a very, very
miserable few months. In retrospect, that might have been
when Malcolm started wishing a plague on the Carlsen house
(he had been rehearsing for Romeo and Juliet at the time).
“Malcolm, can we please talk about this?”
“We’re talking.”
“No, you are cooking and I am just standing here, trying to
get you to acknowledge that you are mad because Adam—”
Malcolm turned away from his casserole, wagging his
finger in Olive’s direction. “Do not say it.”
“Do not say what?”
“You know what.”
“Adam Carl—?”
“Do not say his name.”
She threw her hands up. “This is crazy. It’s fake,
Malcolm.”
He went back to chopping the asparagus. “Pass the salt.”
“Are you even listening? It’s not real.”
“And the pepper, and the—”