Adam’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t reply.
“Well, then. I’m going to . . . um . . .” She gestured behind her shoulders with her thumb.
“Anh?”
“Yeah. Yeah, to Anh.”
He swallowed heavily. “Okay. Yeah.”
They had kissed. They had kissed—twice, now. Twice. Not that it mattered. No one cared. But. Twice. Plus, the lap. Earlier today. Again, not that it mattered.
“I’ll see you around, right? Next week?”
He lifted his fingers to his lips, then let his arm drop to his side. “Yes. On Wednesday.”
It was Thursday now. Which meant that they were going to see each other in six days. Which was fine. Olive was fine, no matter when or how often they met. “Yep. See you Wed— Hey, what about the picnic?”
“The— Oh.” Adam rolled his eyes, looking a little more like himself. “Right. That fu—” He stopped short. “That picnic.”
She grinned. “It’s on Monday.”
He sighed. “I know.”
“You’re still going?”
He gave her a look that clearly stated: It’s not like I have a choice, even though I’d rather have my nails extracted one by one. With pliers.
Olive laughed. “Well. I’m going, too.”
“At least there’s that.”
“Are you bringing Tom?”
“Probably. He actually likes people.”
“Okay. I can network with him a bit, and you and I can show off how steady and committed we are to the department chair. You’ll look like a wingless bird. No flight risk whatsoever.”
“Perfect. I’ll bring a counterfeit marriage license to casually drop at his feet.”
Olive laughed, waved goodbye, and then jogged up to Anh. She rubbed the side of her hand against her lips, as if trying to scrub her mind clean of the fact that she had just kissed Adam—Dr. Adam Carlsen—for the second time in her life. Which, again, was fine. It had been barely a kiss. Not important.
“Well, then,” Anh said, tucking her phone into her pocket. “You really just made out in front of the biology building with associate professor Adam MacArthur Carlsen.”
Olive rolled her eyes and started up the stairs. “I’m pretty sure that’s not his middle name. And we did not.”
“But it was clear that you wanted to.”
“Shut up. Why were you looking at us, anyway?”
“I wasn’t. I happened to glance up when he was about to jump you, and I just couldn’t look away.”
Olive snorted, plugging her headphones into her phone’s port. “Right. Of course.”
“He’s really into you. I can tell from the way he stares at—”
“I’m gonna listen to music very loudly now. To tune you out.”
“—you.”
It wasn’t until much later, after Olive had been working on Tom’s report for several hours, that she remembered what Adam had said when she’d told him she’d be at the picnic.
At least there’s that.
Olive ducked her head and smiled at her toes.
Chapter Seven
HYPOTHESIS: There will be a significant positive correlation between the amount of sunscreen poured in my hands and the intensity of my desire to murder Anh.