Page 127 of The Love Hypothesis

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“WE SHOULD START by addressing the obvious,” Holden said, chewing on the complimentary appetizers, and Olive tensed in her seat. She wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss the Tom situation with Malcolm and Holden before talking about it with Adam alone.

As it turned out, she shouldn’t have worried.

“Which is that Malcolm and Adam hate each other.”

Next to her in the booth, Adam frowned in confusion. Malcolm, who was sitting across from Olive, covered his face with his palms and groaned.

“I am reliably informed,” Holden continued, undeterred, “that Adam called Malcolm’s experiments ‘sloppy’ and ‘a misuse of research funds’ during a committee meeting, and that Malcolm took offense to that. Now, Adam, I’ve been telling Malcolm that you were probably just having a bad day—maybe one of your grads had split an infinitive in an email, or your arugula salad wasn’t organic enough. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Uh . . .” Adam’s frown deepened, and so did Malcolm’s facepalm. Holden waited pointedly for an answer, and Olive watched it all unfold, wondering if she should take out her phone and film this car crash. “I have no recollection of that committee meeting. Though it does sound like something I would say.”

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nbsp; “Great. Now tell Malcolm it wasn’t personal, so we can move on and have fried rice.”

“Oh my God,” Malcolm muttered. “Holden, please.”

“I’m not having fried rice,” Adam said.

“You can have raw bamboo while the normal people have fried rice. But as of right now, my boyfriend thinks that his BFF’s boyfriend and my own BFF has it out for him, and it’s cramping my double-dating style, so please.”

Adam blinked slowly. “BFF?”

“Adam.” Holden pointed at a grimacing Malcolm with his thumb. “Now, please.”

Adam sighed heavily, but he turned to Malcolm. “Whatever I said or did, it was not personal. I’ve been told that I can be needlessly antagonistic. And unapproachable.”

Olive didn’t get to see Malcolm’s reaction. Because she was busy studying Adam and the slight curl on his lips, the one that became an almost smile when he looked at Olive and met her eyes. For a second, the brief second she held his gaze before he looked away, it was just the two of them. And this sort-of-past they shared, their stupid inside jokes, the way they’d teased each other in the late-summer sunlight.

“Perfect.” Holden clapped his hands, intrusively loud. “Egg rolls for appetizer, yes?”

It was a good idea, this dinner. This night, this table, this moment. Sitting next to Adam, smelling the petrichor, watching the dark splotches on the gray cotton of his Henley from the storm that had started just as they’d slipped inside the restaurant. They would have to talk, later, have a serious conversation about Tom and many other things. But for now it was the way it had always been between Adam and her: like slipping into a favorite dress, one she’d thought lost inside her closet, and finding that it fit as comfortably as it used to.

“I want egg rolls.” She glanced at Adam. His hair was starting to get long again, so she did what felt natural: reached out and flattened his cowlick. “I’m going to take a wild guess and assume that you hate egg rolls, just like everything else that’s good in the world.”

He mouthed smart-ass right as the waiter brought their waters and set the menus on the table. Three menus, to be precise. Holden and Malcolm each took one, and Olive and Adam exchanged a loaded, amused look and grabbed the remaining one to share. It worked perfectly: he angled it so that the veggie section was on his side and all manner of fried entrées were on hers. It was serendipitous enough that she let out a laugh.

Adam tapped his index finger on the drink section. “Look at this abomination,” he murmured. His lips were close to her ear—a chuff of hot air, intimate and pleasant in the blasting AC.

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—”

A throat cleared, reminding them that they were not alone. Malcolm and Holden were both staring—Malcolm with a shrewd, suspicious expression, and Holden with a knowing smile. “What’s all that about?”