That Adam would pretend to be in a relationship with someone to get themout of a miserable situation? “Nope.”

“We held hands. We slow-danced. We made Richie spit out his punch and regret every single one of his wretched choices. Then we went home and played even more Final Fantasy. It was the shit.”

“It was surprisingly fun,” Adam conceded, almost reluctantly.

Olive looked at him, and a realization dawned on her: Holden was Adam’s Anh. His person. It was obvious that Adam and Tom were very close, too, but the relationship Adam had with Holden was something else, and . . .

and Olive had no idea what to do with this piece of information.

Maybe she should tell Malcolm. He’d either have a field day or go completely berserk.

“Well,” Holden said, standing up. “This was fantastic. I’ll go get coffee, but we should hang out soon, the three of us. I can’t remember the last time I had the pleasure of embarrassing Adam in front of a girlfriend. For now, though, he’s all yours.” He followed the word “yours” with a smirk that had Olive blushing.

Adam rolled his eyes when Holden left for the coffee counter. Fascinated, Olive followed him with her gaze for several moments. “Um, that was . . . ?”

“Holden for you.” Adam seemed barely annoyed.

She nodded, still a little dazed. “I can’t believe I’m not your first.”

“My first?”

“Your first fake date.”

“Right. I guess prom qualifies.” He seemed to mull it over. “Holden has had some . . . bad luck with relationships. Undeserved bad luck.”

It warmed her chest, the protective concern in his tone. Made her wonder if he was even aware of it.

“Did he and Tom ever . . . ?”

He shook his head. “Holden would be outraged if he knew you asked.”

“Why doesn’t he want to drive Tom to the airport, then?”

Adam shrugged. “Holden has always had a very deep, very irrational dislike of Tom, ever since grad school.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Not sure. Not sure Holden knows, either. Tom says he’s jealous. I think it’s just a personality thing.”

Olive fell silent, absorbing the information. “You didn’t tell Holden about us, either. That it’s not real.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Adam looked away. “I don’t know.” His jaw tensed. “I think I just didn’t

. . .” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head before giving her a smile, small and a little forced. “He speaks very highly of you, you know?”

“Holden? Of me?”

“Of your work. And your research.”

“Oh.” She had no idea what to say to that. When did you talk about me?

And why? “Oh,” she repeated uselessly.

She wasn’t sure why now, in this very moment, but the possible ramifications of their arrangement on Adam’s life hit her in full for the first time. They had agreed to fake-date because they both had something to gain from it, but it occurred to her that Adam also had significantly more to lose.

Out of all the people she loved, Olive was only lying to one, Anh, and that was absolutely unavoidable. She could not care less about other students’

opinions. Adam, though . . . he was lying on a daily basis to his colleagues and his friends. His grads interacted with him every day believing that he was dating one of their peers. Did they think him lecherous? Had his relationship with Olive changed their perception of him? And what about other faculty members in the department, or in adjacent programs? Just because dating a grad student was allowed, it didn’t mean that it wasn’t frowned upon. And what if Adam met—or had already met—someone he actually liked? When they’d struck their deal, he’d said he wasn’t going to date, but that had been weeks ago. Olive herself had been convinced that she’d never be interested in dating anyone at the time—and didn’t that make her want to laugh now, in a remarkably unfunny way? Not to mention that she alone was benefitting

from their arrangement. Anh and Jeremy had bought her lie, but Adam’s research funds were still frozen.

And yet, he was still helping her despite all of this. And Olive was repaying his kindness by getting ideas and developing feelings that were sure to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Do you want to get coffee?”

Olive looked up from her hands. “No.” She cleared her throat against the burning sensation lodged behind her sternum. The idea of coffee made her nauseous. “I think I need to go back to the lab.”

She bent down to retrieve her backpack, meaning to stand and leave immediately, but halfway through, a thought swept over her, and she found herself staring at him. He was sitting across from her with a concerned expression, a slight frown creasing his brow.

She attempted a smile. “We are friends, right?”

His frown deepened. “Friends?”

“Yes. You and I.”

He studied for a long moment. Something new passed through his face, stark and a little sad. Too fleeting to interpret. “Yes, Olive.”

She nodded, unsure as to whether she should be feeling relieved. This was not how she’d thought today would go, and there was a strange pressure behind her eyelids, which had her sliding her arms through the straps of her backpack that much quicker. She waved him goodbye with a tremulous smile, and she’d have already been out of this damn Starbucks, if he hadn’t said with that voice of his: “Olive.”

She paused right in front of his chair and looked down at him. It was so odd, to be the taller one for once.

“This might be inappropriate, but . . .” His jaw shifted, and he closed his eyes for a second. As if to collect his thoughts. “Olive. You are really . . .

You are extraordinary, and I cannot imagine that if you told Jeremy how you feel he wouldn’t . . .” He trailed off and then nodded. A punctuation of sorts, as his words and the way he’d said them brought her that much closer to tears.

He thought it was Jeremy. Adam thought Olive had been in love with Jeremy when they’d begun their arrangement—he thought she was still in

love with him. Because she’d just told a half-assed lie that she was too afraid to take back and—

It was going to happen. She was going to cry, and what she wanted most in the world was to not do it in front of Adam.

“I’ll see you next week, okay?” She didn’t wait for his response and walked briskly toward the exit, her shoulder bumping into someone she should have apologized to. Once she was outside, she took a deep breath and marched to the biology building, trying to empty her mind, forcing herself to think about the section she was slated to TA later today, the fellowship application she’d promised Dr. Aslan she’d send by tomorrow, the fact that Anh’s sister would be in town next weekend and had made plans to cook Vietnamese food for everyone.

A chilly wind weaved through the leaves of the campus trees, pushing Olive’s sweater against her body. She hugged herself and didn’t look back to the café. Fall had finally begun.