“Right.” Don’t ask, Olive. Do not ask. “Do you like me?”
A millisecond of hesitation as he pressed his lips together. “Nope. You’re a smart-ass with abysmal taste in beverages.” He traced the corner of his iPad, a small smile playing on his lips. “Send me your slides.”
“My slides?”
“For your talk. I’ll take a look at them.”
Olive tried not to gape at him. “Oh—you . . . I’m not your grad. You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“You really don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he said, voice pitched low and even as he looked into her eyes, and Olive had to avert her gaze because something felt too tight in her chest.
“Okay.” She finally managed to snap out the loose thread on her sleeve. “How likely is it that your feedback will cause me to cry under the shower?”
“That depends on the quality of your slides.”
She smiled. “Don’t feel like you have to hold back.”
“Believe me, I don’t.”
“Good. Great.” She sighed, but it was reassuring, knowing that he was going to be checking her work. “Will you come to my talk?” she heard herself ask, and was as surprised by the request as Adam seemed to be.
“I . . . Do you want me to?”
No. No, it’s going to be horrible, and humiliating, and probably a disaster, and you’re going to see me at my worst and weakest. It’s probably best if you lock yourself into the bathroom for the entire duration of the panel. Just so you don’t accidentally wander in and see me making a fool of myself.
And yet. Just the idea of having him there, sitting in the audience, made the prospect seem like less of an ordeal. He was not her adviser, and he wasn’t going to be able to do much if she got inundated by a barrage of impossible questions, or if the projector stopped working halfway through the talk. But maybe that wasn’t what she needed from him.
It hit her then what was so special about Adam. That no matter his reputation, or how rocky their first meeting, since the very beginning, Olive had felt that he was on her side. Over and over, and in ways that she could never have anticipated, he had made her feel unjudged. Less alone.
She exhaled slowly. The realization should have been rattling, but it had an oddly calming effect. “Yes,” she told him, thinking that this might very well turn out to be all right. She might never have what she wanted from Adam, but for now at least, he was in her life. That was going to have to be enough.
“I will, then.”
She leaned forward. “Will you ask a long-winded, leading question that will cause me to ramble incoherently and lose the respect of my peers, thus forever undermining my place in the field of biology?”
“Possibly.” He was smiling. “Should I buy you that disgusting”—Adam gestured toward the register—“pumpkin sludge now?”
She grinned. “Oh, yes. I mean, if you want to.”
“I’d rather buy you anything else.”
“Too bad.” Olive jumped to her feet and headed for the counter, tugging at his sleeve and forcing him to stand with her. Adam followed meekly, mumbling something about black coffee that Olive chose to ignore.
Enough, she repeated to herself. What you have now, it will have to be enough.
Chapter Fourteen
HYPOTHESIS: This conference will be the worst thing to ever happen to my professional career, general well-being, and sense of sanity.
There were two beds in the hotel room.