The Love Hypothesis

by Ali Hazelwood

It never occurred to Olive that Dr. Adam Carlsen—known ass—had called her by her name.

“Fine. We can say that you broke up with me.” “Because that sounds credible,” he said drily, almost below his breath.

“Zero. But I am familiar with the trope.” “The…what?” He blinked at her, confused.

“Should we just kiss, then?” she heard herself blurt out. And then she instantly wished a stray meteorite would hit the exact spot where she was standing, because—had she just asked Adam Carlsen for a kiss? Was that what she’d done? Was she a lunatic all of a sudden?

When she eased back on her heels, it seemed like for a fraction of a moment Adam followed her, trying to fill the gap between their mouths.

“Adam, did you just offer me a used tissue?” “I…maybe.” He pressed his lips together. “I panicked.”

And then, when he walked past her, she had the impression of knuckles brushing against the back of her hand. “Good night, Olive.”

HYPOTHESIS: If I fall in love, things will invariably end poorly.

“Yep. I’m so glad he finally scrounged up the courage to ask you out. He’d been going on and on about this ‘amazing girl’ for years, but he was concerned about being in the same department, and you know how he is…” He shrugged and waved his hand. “I’m glad he finally managed to pull his head out of his ass.”

“Olive,” Dr. Aslan interrupted her with a stern tone. “What do I always tell you?” “Um…‘Don’t misplace the multichannel pipette’?” “The other thing.” She sighed. “ ‘Carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man.’ ”

HYPOTHESIS: Approximately two out of three fake-dating situations will eventually involve room-sharing; 50 percent of room-sharing situations will be further complicated by the presence of only one bed.

“Adam.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “There will be only one bed.” He frowned. “No, as I said it’s a double—” “It’s not. It won’t be. There will be only one bed, for sure.” He gave her a puzzled look. “I got the booking confirmation the other day. I can forward it to you if you want; it says that—” “It doesn’t matter what it says. It’s always one bed.”

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when she was sitting on her bed staring at the Boston skyline and chewing on her lunch, that Olive realized that the protein bar Adam had given her was covered in chocolate.

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

“You are not mediocre, Olive. You were not invited to speak because people think that you are my girlfriend—there is no such thing, since SBD’s abstracts go through a blind review process. I would know, because I’ve been roped into reviewing them in the past. And the work you presented is important, rigorous, and brilliant.” He took a deep breath. His shoulders rose and fell in time with the thudding of her heart. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

It nearly made her lose her balance, the way he tugged at her wrist and pulled her hand to himself, pressing her palm flush to his groin to show her that…Oh. Oh. Yeah. His jaw rolled as he held her gaze. “You have no fucking idea what I want.”

HYPOTHESIS: Despite what everyone says, sex is never going to be anything more than a mildly enjoyable activi— Oh. Oh.

“You’re so big.” He groaned into her neck. His entire body was vibrating with tension. “You can take it.” “I can,” she told him,

HYPOTHESIS: A heart will break even more easily than the weakest of hydrogen bonds.

Because I’m starting to wonder if this is what being in love is. Being okay with ripping yourself to shreds, so the other person can stay whole.

HYPOTHESIS: People who cross me will come to regret it.

“I’m going to kill you,” he gritted out, little more than a growl. “If you say another word about the woman I love, if you look at her, if you even think about her—I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“I am going to take care of this,” he told her. There was something determined, earnest in his eyes. Olive had never felt safer, or more loved. “And then I’ll come find you, and I’ll take care of you.”

You can fall in love: someone will catch you.

“Ik hou van jou, Adam.”

RESULTS: Careful analyses of the data collected, accounting for potential confounds, statistical error, and experimenter’s bias, show that when I fall in love…things don’t actually turn out to be that bad.

“May I kiss you, Dr. Carlsen?”