“I think she’s right,” Anh said. “I’ll help you practice. We’ll make sure you know it by heart. And it will be fine.”
“Yeah.” Or it won’t. “Also, the conference is in less than two weeks. We should book the hotel—or are we doing Airbnb?”
Something odd happened the moment she asked the question. Not with Anh—she was still peacefully sipping on her coffee—but Malcolm’s cup froze halfway to his mouth, and he bit his lip while studying the sleeve of his sweater.
“About that . . . ,” he began.
Olive frowned. “What?”
“Well.” Malcolm shuffled his feet a little, and maybe it was accidental, the way he seemed to be drifting away from Olive—but she didn’t think so. “We already have.”
“You already booked something?”
Anh nodded cheerfully. “Yes.” She didn’t appear to notice that Malcolm was about to have a stroke. “The conference hotel.”
“Oh. Okay. Let me know what I owe you then, since—”
“The thing is . . .” Malcolm seemed to move even farther away.
“What thing?”
“Well.” He fidgeted with the cardboard holder of his cup, and his eyes darted to Anh, who seemed blissfully oblivious to his discomfort. “Jeremy’s hotel room is paid for because of that fellowship he’s on, and he asked Anh to stay with him. And then Jess, Cole, and Hikaru offered for me to stay with them.”
“What?” Olive glanced at Anh. “Seriously?”
“It will save all of us a lot of money. And it will be my first trip with Jeremy,” Anh interjected distractedly. She was typing something on her phone. “Oh my God, guys, I think I found it! A location for the Boston event for BIPOC women in STEM! I think I’ve got it!”
“That’s great,” Olive said weakly. “But I thought . . . I thought we’d room together.”
Anh glanced up, looking contrite. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I told Jeremy, but he pointed out that you . . . you know.” Olive tilted her head, confused, and Anh continued, “I mean, why would you want to spend money on a room when you could stay with Carlsen?”
Oh. “Because.” Because. Because, because, because. “I . . .”
“I’ll miss you, but it’s not as if we’ll be in the rooms for anything other than sleeping.”
“Right. . . .” She pressed her lips together, and added, “Sure.”
Anh’s grin made her want to groan. “Awesome. We’ll get meals together and hang out for poster sessions. And at night, of course.”
“Of course.” It was all Olive could do not to sound bitter. “I look forward to it,” she added with as good a smile as she could muster.
“Okay. Great. I gotta go—the Women in Science outreach committee is meeting in five. But let’s get together this weekend to plan fun activities for Boston. Jeremy said something about a ghost tour!”
Olive waited until Anh was out of earshot before turning to face Malcolm. He was already raising his hands defensively.
“First of all, Anh came up with this plan while I was monitoring that twenty-four-hour experiment—worst day of my life, I cannot graduate soon enough. And after that—what was I supposed to do? Inform her that you’re not going to stay with Carlsen because you’re fake-dating? Oh, but wait—now that you’ve got a huge crush on him maybe it’s sort of real—”
“Okay, I get it.” Her stomach was starting to ache. “You still could have told me.”