Olive felt on the verge of a full-body cringe. Unsure of what to say, she settled for a simple, painful, awkward: “Really?”
Holden nodded. “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’s brain stuttered. Her neurons went sluggish and cold, and it took her several seconds to process that Adam had been wanting to ask her out for years. She couldn’t wrap her head around it, because . . . it was not possible. It didn’t make sense. Adam didn’t even remember Olive existed before she’d Title-IXed him in the hallway a few weeks ago. The more she thought about it, the more she grew convinced that if he’d had any recollection of their bathroom meeting, he would have said as much. Adam was famously direct, after all.
Holden must have been referring to someone else. And Adam must have feelings for that someone. Someone he worked with, someone who was in their department. Someone who was “amazing.”
Olive’s mind, half frozen until a few seconds ago, began to spiral with the knowledge. Setting aside the fact that this conversation was an utter invasion of Adam’s privacy, Olive couldn’t stop herself from considering the implications of their arrangement for him. If the person Holden was talking about was one of Adam’s colleagues, there was no chance that she hadn’t heard about Adam and Olive dating. It was possible that she’d seen the two of them get coffee together on a Wednesday, or Olive sitting on Adam’s lap during Tom’s talk, or—God, Olive slathering him with sunblock at that godforsaken picnic. Which couldn’t be good for his prospects. Unless Adam didn’t mind, because he was sure beyond any doubt that his feelings were unrequited—and oh, wouldn’t that be funny? About as funny as a Greek tragedy.
“Anyway.” Holden pushed away from the wall, his hand coming up to scratch his nape. “I think we should go on a double date one of these days. I’ve been taking a break from dating—too much heartache—but maybe it’s time to dip my toes in again. Hopefully I’ll snatch myself a boyfriend soon.”
The weight in Olive’s stomach sank even lower. “That would be lovely.” She attempted a smile.
“Right?” He grinned. “Adam would hate it with the intensity of a thousand suns.”
He really would.
“But I could tell you so many juicy stories about him, approximately aged ten to twenty-five.” Holden was delighted at the prospect. “He’d be mortified.”
“Are they about taxidermy?”
“Taxidermy?”
“Nothing. Just something Tom had said about . . .” She waved her hand. “Nothing.”
Holden’s gaze turned sharp. “Adam said you might be going to work with Tom next year. Is that true?”
“Oh . . . yeah. That’s the plan.”
He nodded, pensive. Then seemed to come to some sort of decision and added, “Watch your back while you’re around him, okay?”
“My back?” What? Why? Did this have anything to do with what Adam had mentioned—Holden not liking Tom? “What do you mean?”
“Adam’s back, too. Especially Adam’s back.” Holden’s expression remained intense for a moment, and then lightened up. “Anyway. Tom only met Adam in grad school. But I was there in his teenage years—that’s when the good stories are from.”
“Oh. You probably shouldn’t tell me. Since . . .” Since he’s faking a relationship with me and surely doesn’t want me in his business. Also, he’s probably in love with someone else.