The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“I worked.”
They got in line to order, and it was all Olive could do to
stop herself from sighing. “Weather’s been nice, right? Not too
hot.”
He grunted in response.
It was starting to be a bit much. There was a limit to what
Olive would do for this fake-dating relationship—even for a
free mango Frappuccino. She sighed. “Is it because of the
haircut?”
That got his attention. Adam looked down at her, a vertical
line deep between his eyebrows. “What?”
“The mood. Is it because of the haircut?”
“What mood?”
Olive gestured broadly toward him. “This. The bad mood
you’re in.”
“I’m not in a bad mood.”
She snorted—though that was probably not the right term
for what she just did. It was too loud and derisive, more like a
laugh. A snaugh.
“What?” He frowned, unappreciative of her snaugh.
“Come on.”
“What?”
“You ooze moodiness.”
“I do not.” He sounded indignant, which struck her as
oddly endearing.
“You so do. I saw that face, and I immediately knew.”
“You did not.”
“I did. I do. But it’s fine, you’re allowed to be in a bad
mood.”