The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“I have, haven’t I? Did I ever tell you about the serious
flirting that happened between us at the undergrad research
fair? I’m pretty sure he winked at me multiple times from the
other side of the room. Now, some say he just had something
in his eye, but—”
“Me. I said that he probably had something in his eye. And
you tell me about it every other day.”
“Right.” He sighed. “You know, Ol, I would have fakedated
you myself in a heartbeat, to spare you from goddamned
Carlsen. I would have held hands with you, and given you my
jacket when you were cold, and very publicly gifted you
chocolate roses and teddy bears on Valentine’s Day.”
How refreshing, to talk with someone who’d watched a
rom-com. Or ten. “I know. But you also bring home a different
person every week, and you love it, and I love that you love it.
I don’t want to cramp your style.”
“Fair.” Malcolm looked pleased—whether at the fact that
he really did get around a fair bit or at Olive’s thorough
understanding of his dating habits, she wasn’t sure.
“Can you please not hate me, then?”
He tossed the kitchen cloth onto the counter and stepped
closer. “Ol. I could never hate you. You’ll always be my
kalamata.” He pulled her into his chest, hugging her tight. At
the beginning, when they’d just met, Olive had been
constantly disoriented by how physical he was, probably
because it had been years since she’d experienced such
affectionate contact. Now, Malcolm’s hugs were her happy
place.
She laid her head on his shoulder and smiled into the cotton
of his T-shirt. “Thanks.”
Malcolm held her tighter.