The Love Hypothesis (Love Hypothesis #1)(72)

He sighed.

“Okay, maybe . . . maybe I’m not fine right now, but I will be.” She accepted the tissue that he plucked for her and blew her nose. “I just need a while to . . .”

He studied her and nodded, his eyes unreadable again.

“Thank you. For what you said. For letting me snot all over your hotel room.”

He smiled. “Anytime.”

“And your jacket, too. Are you . . . Are you going to the department social?” she asked, dreading the moment she would have to get out of this chair. Of this room. Be honest, that sensible, ever-knowing voice inside her whispered. It’s his presence that you don’t want to be out of.

“Are you?”

She shrugged. “I said I would. But I don’t feel like talking to anyone right now.” She dried her cheeks once more, but miraculously the flow had stopped. Adam Carlsen, responsible for 90 percent of the department’s tears, had actually managed to make someone stop crying. Who would’ve thought? “Though I feel like the free alcohol could really help.”

He stared at her pensively for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. Then he nodded, seeming to reach some sort of decision, and stood with his hand held out to her. “Come on.”

“Oh.” She had to crane her neck to look up at him. “I think I’m going to wait a bit before I—”

“We’re not going to the social.”

We? “What?”

“Come on,” he repeated, and this time Olive took his hand and didn’t let go. She couldn’t, with the way his fingers were closing around hers. Adam looked pointedly at her shoes, until she got the hint and slipped them on, using his arm to keep her balance.

“Where are we going?”

“To get some free alcohol. Well”—he amended—“free for you.”

She almost gasped when she realized what he meant. “No, I—Adam, no. You have to go to the department social. And to the opening ceremony. You’re the keynote speaker!”

“And I keynote-spoke.” He grabbed her red duffle coat from the bed and pulled her toward the entrance. “Can you walk in those shoes?”

“I—yes, but—”

“I have my key card; we don’t need yours.”

“Adam.” She grabbed his wrist, and he immediately turned to look at her. “Adam, you can’t skip those events. People will say that you—”

His smile was lopsided. “That I want to spend time with my girlfriend?”

Olive’s brain stopped. Just like that. And then it started again, and—

The world was a little different.

When he tugged her hand again, she smiled and simply followed him out of the room.





Chapter Fifteen



HYPOTHESIS: There is no moment in life that cannot be improved by food delivered by conveyor belt.



Everyone saw them.

People whom Olive had never met before, people whom she recognized from blog posts and science Twitter, people from her department who’d been her teachers in previous years. People who smiled at Adam, who addressed him by his first name or as Dr. Carlsen, who told him “Great talk” or “See you around.” People who completely ignored Olive, and people who studied her curiously—her, and Adam, and the place where their hands were joined.

Adam mostly nodded back, only stopping to chat with Holden.

“You guys skipping the boring shit?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“Yep.”

“I’ll make sure to drink your booze, then. And to extend your apologies.”

“No need.”

“I’ll just say you had a family emergency.” Holden winked. “Perhaps future-family emergency, how does that sound?”

Adam rolled his eyes and pulled Olive outside. She had to hurry to keep up with him, not because he was walking particularly fast, but because his legs were so long, one of his strides was worth about three of hers.

“Um . . . I’m wearing heels, here.”

He turned to her, his eyes traveling down her legs and then rapidly moving away. “I know. You’re less vertically challenged than usual.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, I’m five-eight. That’s actually pretty tall.”

“Hm.” Adam’s expression was noncommittal.

“What’s that face?”

“What face?”

“Your face.”

“Just my regular face?”

“No, that’s your ‘you’re not tall’ face.”

He smiled, just a smidge. “Are the shoes okay for walking? Should we go back?”

“They’re fine, but can we slow down?”

He feigned a sigh, but he did. His hand let go of hers and pushed against her lower back to steer her to the right. She had to hide a small shiver.

“So . . .” She stuffed her fists in the pockets of her coat, trying to ignore how the tips of her fingers were still tingling. “Those free drinks you mentioned? Do they come with food?”

“I’ll get you dinner.” Adam’s lips curved a little more. “You’re not a cheap date, though.”

She leaned into his side and bumped her shoulder against his biceps. It was hard not to notice that there was no give. “I really am not. I fully plan to eat and drink my feelings.”