The Love Hypothesis

by Ali Hazelwood

He nodded. “I’ll walk you to your car.” “I’m not that distraught.” “In case Anh’s still around.”

THIS MAN IS SO IN LOVE WITH HER

She would have loved to have someone in her life, but she doubted it was in store for her. Maybe she was unlovable.

“It’s me.” His hands halted, hovering half an inch or so above the keyboard. Then he turned his chair toward her. “Olive.” There was something about the way he talked. Maybe it was an accent, maybe just a quality of his voice. Olive didn’t quite know what, but it was there, in the way he said her name. Precise. Careful. Deep. Unlike anyone else. Familiar—impossibly so.

“Ol. I could never hate you. You’ll always be my kalamata.”

The three dots at the bottom of the screen bounced for ten seconds, twenty, thirty. A whole minute. Olive reread her last text and wondered if this was it—if she’d finally gone too far. Maybe he was going to remind her that being insulted over text at 9:00 p.m. on a Friday night was not part of their fake-dating agreement. Then a blue bubble appeared, filling up her entire screen.

THIS MAN WANTS TO HAVE DEEP CONVERSATIONS WITH HER CON VERSATIONS WITH SUBSGTANCE ICNNOT

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

Adam: Probably. There are no bike lanes to my house. Do you need a ride? I can pick you up.

HES SO FREAKING THOUGHTFUL

Olive threw herself at him and hugged his torso as tight as she could. She closed her eyes when, after a few seconds of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her. “Congratulations,” he whispered softly against her hair. Just like that Olive was on the verge of tears all over again.

I CANT FRRAKING REAX THIS ANYMORE