The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“That is, I, um . . . never put two and two together, and
didn’t know that you were the Tom he always talked about.”
There, better. Kind of. “I’m sorry, Dr. Benton. I didn’t mean to
—”
“Tom,” he said, grin still in place. His shock seemed to be
settling into pleasant surprise. “Please, call me Tom.” His eyes
darted between Adam and Olive for a few seconds. Then he
said, “Hey, are you free?” He pointed at the coffee shop. “Why
don’t we go inside and chat about your project now? No point
in waiting until this afternoon.”
She took a sip of her latte to temporize. Was she free?
Technically, yes. She would have loved to run to the edge of
campus and scream into the void until modern civilization
collapsed, but that wasn’t exactly a pressing matter. And she
wanted to look as accommodating as possible to Dr. Benton—
Tom. Beggars and choosers and all that.
“I’m free.”
“Great. You, Adam?”
Olive froze. And so did Adam, for about a second, before
pointing out, “I don’t think I should be present, if you’re about
to interview her—”
“Oh, it’s not an interview. Just an informal chat to see if
Olive’s and my research match. You’ll want to know if your
girlfriend is moving to Boston for a year, right? Come on.” He
motioned for them to follow him and then stepped inside the
Starbucks.
Olive and Adam exchanged a silent look that somehow
managed to speak volumes. It said, What the hell do we do?
and How the hell would I know? and This is going to be weird,
and No, it’s going to be plain bad. Then Adam sighed, put on a
resigned face, and headed inside. Olive followed him,
regretting her life choices.