The Love Hypothesis

by Ali Hazelwood

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

“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.”

“I have better things to do.” “Like what? Olive’s coming, too.” “Leave Olive alone. She’s tired, and we’re busy.” “I have access to your Google Calendar, asshole. You’re not busy. If you don’t want to hang out with me, you can just be honest.” “I don’t want to hang out with you.” “You little shit. After the week we just had. And on my birthday.” Adam recoiled slightly. “What? It’s not your birthday.” “Yes, it is.” “Your birthday is April tenth.” “Is it, though?” Adam

“Because,” he said, holding Olive’s eyes, “burgers taste like foot.”

She grinned. “No way.” “Appalling.” “Amazing, you mean.” “I do not.” “This is my new favorite restaurant.” “You haven’t even tried it yet.” “It will be spectacular.” “It will be horrific—”

“I’m not going to eat a piece of cardboard because it hurt your feelings.” “You’re a shit friend.” “According to the fortune cookie industry, you’re a shit boyfriend, so—”

Chaotic goth misanthropy and creepy deadpan sarcasm are her brand, and I should know better than to take her seriously.

She’s such a weirdo. I adore her.

@emily89 Put some polonium in his pants and watch his dick shrivel.