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“When you wiggled in my lap for one hour, and all I could think was that in a just world, an ideal world, this thing we’re doing would have been real, and those intrusive, half-formulated, lurid fantasies I have about you wouldn’t send you screaming—” – The Adam Carlsen Hypothesis, Chapter 16, Adams POV.
Tom’s talk wasn’t supposed to start for another half an hour, and the small auditorium that the Dean had booked for his presentation was already full. The seats, all forty of them, were filled with faculty and sponsors that would already be familiar with Tom’s research. There were no spaces for students who might actually benefit from the speech.
Despite being in academia for nearly ten years, he still couldn’t understand the way Moss prioritized appearances over academics. Inviting students to presentations with leading researchers was the way to build up their network and help them connect with relevant research. Inviting local news crews wasn’t going to benefit anyone except Moss’ own credibility.
When he heard that neither Olive nor any of his research students had even heard of the presentation, it had struck a nerve. Olive was one of the most passionate people he had ever met. Her dedication to her research was refreshing, and she wasn’t being provided opportunities to meet academics in the field so that Moss can pat his ego? It had left a bad taste in Adam’s mouth.
In retaliation, he suggested that Holden send the “faculty-only” invitation to the department students’ council. He had expected them to forward it to a few representatives, maybe the phD candidates. He didn’t expect them to post it on their social media, inviting the entire campus, leading to a packed room nearly an hour early.
As another hoard of students entered the auditorium, he checked to see if Olive had arrived. He had considered warning her that however early she thought she should be, she should be even earlier. A quick text would have made the most sense, but she hadn’t given her her phone number when he had passed her his. He had considered an e-mail, but he was hesitant to overstep.
What if she fell off of that goddamn bike? He thought to himself, moving to check his phone, to e-mail her to see if she’s okay. After a breath, he put it back in his pocket. She had asked for a fake-relationship- she hadn’t asked for a personal timekeeper.
Adam knew his relationship to Olive was delicate. He wouldn’t try and fool himself on what his role was- a tool to help her untangle herself in whatever love triangle was going on between her friends.
But if being a tool meant that he got to listen to the melody of her laugh every week, and he got to see the dimples in her smile when he buys those atrocities she calls coffee, then he’d be the happiest tool in the toolbox.
“Earth to Doctor Carlsen,” Holden was cupping his hands, turning them in to a megaphone, “Come in, Doctor Carlsen.”
“What is it, Holden.” Adam sighed.
“How long do you expect me to sit here and watch you brood before acknowledging the elephant, or rather, the Olea Europea, in the room?”
“The what in the room?”
“The Olea Europea?” Holden’s face split into a grin, “You’re not familiar with the scientific name for Olive?”
Adam threw his head back as he sighed, “How long exactly have you been waiting to use that?”
“Well, I googled it when we sat down.” He flipped his phone over and checked the time, “So I’ve been waiting about six minutes.”
“I’m sure you know more about her than I do, you assisted in her-”
“Not one, not two, but all of my lab members have been asking me about you.” Holden interrupted, raising an eyebrow.
“About the newest space available in my lab, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, because everyone is scrambling to fill that space. No, not about your lab. They’ve been about this girl you’ve been dating, Olive Smith”
We’re not dating. Adam internally corrected, I offered to fake- date her as a favour, which seems to be the plot of every B-list romantic comedy on the planet. And like all those idiotic protagonists, I’m falling for a woman who already assured me she’s not interested.
“Hello?” Holden waved a hand in front of Adam’s face, “Are we in the seventh grade? You can’t just pretend I didn’t speak.”
He had to be careful. After a lifetime of friendship with Holden, Adam couldn’t lie to him without getting caught.. And the only thing that was more embarrassing than being in a fake-dating relationship, was being caught being in a fake-dating relationship. Especially since he was the one benefiting the most from the arrangement.
“Yes, I went for coffee with Olive Smith.”
“The same Olive Smith that you’ve been pining over since her interview?”
Adam shot Holden a warning glance before looking around the room. With the noise of the crowd, he doubted anyone had heard his colleagues’ words.
Yes, colleague. For the time being, Holden was demoted from friend.
“Olive and I have only been on a few dates.” Adam choose his words carefully, “She isn’t fully aware of how long I’ve been interested in her. When you’re sending out the newsletter on my love life, I’d appreciate it if you kept that fact to yourself.”
“A few dates?”
“Yes, a few dates.” He checked his phone. The speech would be starting any minute.
“Who asked who out first?”
“What?”
“Did you ask her out, or did Olive ask you out first?” Holden leaned forward, practically whispering into Adam’s ear.
“Does it matter?” He watched Holden nod enthusiastically, and he sighed. “Between you and me, and you do not repeat this… Olive made the first move.”
The memory brought a smile to his face. He’d recognized her walk as he came down the hallway. He’d considered introducing himself properly, they’d never had a real conversation in her years as a student. Before he had a chance, she was asking him to kiss her.
Holden broke out into a grin, mirroring the giddiness that Adam had been feeling for the past few weeks. Before Adam could stop him, he grabbed his bicep and squeezed it encouragingly.
“I’m happy for you, man.” Holden was bouncing like a teenager about to see their favourite pop star come onstage, “She’s smart, and anyone who can melt your frozen heart must be pretty special.”
“Yeah,” He agreed softly, “But can we change the subject?” He glanced around the room again, and his heart skipped a beat. Olive and Anh were at the entrance doors, pushing their way through the crowd, “We can talk about it later?”
Holden followed his gaze up the stairs, and spotted the two. He’d already gotten more out of Adam then he expected, so he jumped to his next favourite topic.
“Well, looks like Tom got quite the audience.” Holden couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice, “More young minds to manipulate and extort.”
He didn’t want to put up with Holden’s anti-Tom bullshit right now. He’d been anxious ever since he’d heard Tom considering bringing Olive into his lab. Tom was a trusted friend, a close friend, but the thought of him alone with Olive brought Adam some unnameable unease.
“His research is cutting edge,” Adam remarked neutrally, “And his lab has plenty of opportunities for young researchers.”
Opportunities for researchers like Olive, who had only just come into his life, and was already moving on without him. Which was fine. They weren’t really dating, and he wasn’t deluding himself into thinking that she ever would ever consider the possibility.
But there was a chance she would let him be her friend. Adam knew Harvard like the back of his hand. Best case scenario, after September 29th, he could show her around the campus. There was a beautiful burger restaurant a few blocks away from campus he could take her to.
“Well, unfortunately there aren’t a lot of seats for young researchers.” Holden grimaced at the wave of people coming down the steps.
“We might have overshot with the invitations.”
“That’s Moss for you.” Adam gestured around the room, “Once again underestimating the dedication of those around her.
“Or the dedication to hot young professors,” Holden rolled his eyes, “Which begs the question, why are we even here?”
Olive must have had made her way down the stairs, because Adam could hear her voice behind them. She was talking to someone, probably Anh.
“Because he’s a friend,” Adam kept his voice steady.
Adam rolled his eyes, feeling the weight as something, someone bumped into him. He turned to snarl at them, to ask them to watch where they were going. He stopped himself when he recognized Olive’s sneakers.
“Not my friend.”
After a lifetime, Adam allowed himself to look at Olive. She was stunning. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, leaving her face fully uncovered. Her eyes, possibly the most expressive eyes he’d ever seen, were wide-eyed, crinkles of a smile at the corner. She looked at him, and he fought the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.
“Hey-sorry.” She pointed to the doorway. Another twenty people had entered the room. Holden really had outdone himself with the last-minute promotions, “A bunch of new people just came in and apparently the space in this room is finite. I think it’s a law of physics, or something.”
He wanted to tell her to stop apologizing. She didn’t need to apologize for anything around him, not when every moment made him feel like his skin feel is on fire, and his tongue so tied you’d assume he’s never talked to a girl before.
“It’s okay.”
Her hand brushed his outer thigh. It wasn’t on purpose, but lightning shot through Adam’s body. God, he was pathetic.
“I’d take a step back,” She shrugs, bashful, “But….”
Dr Moss’ voice filled the auditorium, cutting through the conversations in the room. She introduced Tom, ignoring the obvious seating issue.
“Here,” Adam told Olive, “Take my seat.”
He ignored Holden, who was staring a hole into his back, as he made his way out of his seat. She’d responded to the invitation at nearly three in the morning last night, so he knew that she’d barely slept the night before. He wouldn’t let Olive stand for the next hour, not if she needed rest.
“Thank you, but-” Olive’s dismissal is halfway out of her mouth, and Adam has already conjured his retort, when Anh interrupts them both.
“Actually, that would be a terrible idea,” She gave him a look that showed that she was terrified, but continued anyways, “No offense, Dr. Carlsen, but you’re three times larger than Olive. If you stand, the room’s going to burst.”
He wasn’t sure if he should take the comment as a compliment to his physique, or as an insult to his size. Regardless, he had to hand it to Anh. She was fearless.
“But,” She continued, “it’d be great if you could do me a solid and sit on your boyfriend’s lap, Ol. Just so I don’t have to stand on my toes?”
Wow. Adam realized that he very much liked Anh, regardless of if she insulted him or not.
Olive’s face contorted, and internally smacked himself for being hopeful. Olive wouldn’t want to sit on his lap. She barely knew him. She barely liked him. Even if she thought he was nice, she wouldn’t want to sit on some older, moody, unattractive professors lap.
He kept his face as neutral as possible, so not to pressure Olive, while she quietly argued with Anh why that would be a terrible idea. He chewed his inner lip, desperate not to let her see his disappointment when she inevitably said no. Internally, he was chanting “Please, Please Please Please.”
Holden’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and he was nearly standing in his chair as he tried to eavesdrop on Anh and Olive’s conversation. If she actually sat on his lap, he’d never let Adam hear the end of it.
She turned to him, eyes wide, already sucking on her lip. He gave her a small nod, letting her know he wouldn’t be upset when she said no.
I already offered you my seat. He thought to himself, Holden hates Tom, and I’ve heard this speech half-a-dozen times, we don’t have to stay. Don’t make yourself uncomfortable on my behalf, even if I’ve been dreaming about this exact scenario for nearly three years.
She took a step towards him, probably to let him know she was leaving and that fake-dating situation was too much. He prepared himself for the rejection, the reminder that she never meant to kiss him and this whole situation was a mistake.
Instead, she sat down on his lap.
For ten whole seconds, Adam blacked out. Olive Smith, beautiful, quirky, intelligent, kind Olive Smith, was sitting in his fucking lap. His ears roared, and his heart pounded in his chest so hard he had a vague concern it might burst, or worse, she could feel it.
His brain simply stopped functioning. He was vaguely aware of Dr. Moss listing off Tom’s accomplishments. Out of his peripheral, Holden gawked. He assumed that Anh was doing the same.
Luckily, Olive sat on his right thigh, and not directly between his legs, because in the ten seconds between her sitting down and him processing it, he’d gotten hard. Embarrassingly hard.
Jesus Christ, she smelled fucking incredible. Sweet, like the candied drinks that were probably rotting her teeth. There was something else, something floral beneath the sweetness, a soft scent that seemed to linger on her clothes. He had noticed it before, when she’d kissed him, before he knew her as anything more than a distant crush. In only a few short weeks, he’d already associated the smell with happiness.
“I’m sorry.” She shifted her weight so she could whisper into his ear, “So, so sorry.”
Her breath in his ear sent shivers down his spine. Adam Carlsen was never a fan of physical intimacy, being single for your entire adult life does that to a person-but having her so close was dizzying. Sure, he hugged Holden when he asked, but it was nothing like this. The weight of her felt like the sun shining on his body after swimming in the ocean- warm, radiant, and calm.
“It’s okay.” He lied. The woman of his dreams was sitting in his lap, and instead of enjoying it, he was trying to fight off a boner.
Meanwhile, she seemed completely uncomfortable. Her back and limbs were completely rigid, cardboard against Adam’s frame. She was leaning as far away from him as she possibly could. Still, she was squirming. The squirming was not helping the situation in his pants.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea she would suggest this,” She moved again, so she could look him in the eye, “and I couldn’t think of a way to-”
He felt bad. He didn’t fully understand the dynamic between her and her ex, but he knew she wanted him to move on peacefully. Her methods might have been convoluted, but she didn’t sign up to be forced to sit on an old man’s lap.
“Sssh.” He slid an arm around her waist, touching her hip to still her. He left it there for a moment, expecting her to flinch or throw his hand away. When she didn’t, he relaxed his grip and joked, “It’s fine. More material for my Title IX complaint.”
“God, I’m so sorry-” Her voice was so beautiful. She called it rambling, but he’d use the term passionate.
He loved how her voice sped up when she was passionate about a topic. The way her cheeks would redden, and she couldn’t help but smile as she worked her way through a problem. She was direct in her communication, no matter how awkward she might feel. He thought it was adorable.
But right now, he needed her to quiet down.
“Olive.” He reassured her, “I was kidding. You weight nothing. I don’t mind.”
“I-”
“Ssh,” He hoped that his tone was reassuring, and not condescending, “Just focus on the talk. Tom might ask you questions about it.”
The fear of Tom silenced her. Slowly, like ice melting off a glacier, her body loosened. She rolled her shoulders, and he flinched at the noise when her spine cracked. He felt her shuddering breath, and he tried to time his exhalations with hers until it slowed down. Finally, she leaned against him.
He kept quiet, moving only to accommodate her more comfortably. Without thinking, his thumb began rubbing small circles on the skin above her waist. He nearly stopped, until she sighed and tucked her head neatly into his shoulder.
With the proximity he could smell the mint on her breath. He inhaled and caught the smell of honey. That was the sweet smell he’d caught earlier, she used a honey-based shampoo. Knowing her, it was probably an all-natural brand, with a cute picture of a bumblebee on a flower or something. She was cute like that.
Even when they’d kissed, it hadn’t been this intimate. Her entire torso was pressed to his chest, breathing in time, and they seemed to fit together perfectly.
He tried not to imagine her sitting on his lap in any other circumstance. He tried not to imagine her coming home after a long day in the lab, climbing into his lap while he graded papers in their living room. He tried not to imagine himself holding her just like this, watching fireworks on a holiday. He tried not to imagine her sitting in his lap for, other reasons, letting her take care of him in a way he rarely allowed anyone to do.
No. He pushed the fantasies from his mind, remembering the way her eyes welled as Tom asked about her mother. Remembering the way she had spoken to Adam so earnestly, so trusting, about her research. She didn’t need some pervert chasing after her. She deserved someone who didn’t think of her when he was alone at night.
Don’t kid yourself, Adam. His internal monologue was cruel, If she wanted to date someone, she’d find someone her own age. Someone charismatic. Someone who knows how to talk to other people without making them cry. You saw her face when she realized you’re the one she kissed. This isn’t about you.
But if I’m lucky, I could be her friend.
She’d been slowly sliding down his thigh for the past few minutes. Nearly asleep, she wasn’t supporting herself, and afraid to overstep, and he wasn’t holding her firmly enough to keep her still. She’d drifted away.
Despite how happy it made him to be holding her, even under the circumstances, he didn’t want her to fall asleep. Not if it could hinder her relationship with Tom.
He tightened his grip on her hip and slid her closer. Feeling bold, he wrapped his other arm around her, seatbelting her in place. He was ready to let go if she squirmed, or gave any indication she wanted out, but she didn’t give one. Instead, she tucked her head right into the space above his heart.
“Don’t fall asleep,” His voice was barely above a whisper, and his nose brushed her hair as he said it. She was so beautiful like this, sleepy and cozy. A curl of her hair had fallen from the elastic, and he fought the urge to tuck it behind her ear.
“I’m not.” She sighed, nestling closer into his embrace, “Though you’re so comfy.”
Adam’s stomach flipped and he felt like he’d just stepped into a warm bath. She thought he was comfy? She trusted him enough to feel comfortable sitting with him? It was a bit sad how much he wanted bite his fist and squeal. He was absolutely fucked for this woman.
“You look like you’re about to take a nap.” He teased. He felt drunk, dizzy off the high of her proximity.
“It’s just that I’ve read all of Tom’s articles. I already know what he’s saying.”
Tom was charismatic, and his speeches were always well-presented. But Olive was right, he wasn’t presenting anything she wouldn’t have already read.
“Yeah, same. We cited all this stuff in our grant proposal.” He sighed, “This is dull.”
We could leave. Sneak out and get coffee? You might remember that our last fake-dating Wednesday was interrupted. You might be surprised to hear, but it’s actually the highlight of my week, and I’d love to make up for lost time.
“Maybe you should ask a question. To liven this up.”
Adam turned slightly to her. “Me?”
She angled her head to speak in his ear, her mouth deliciously close to his ear. “I’m sure you can come up with something. Just raise your hand and make a mean observation with that tone of yours. Glare at him. It might devolve into an entertaining outbreak of fisticuffs.”
His cheek curved. “You are such a smart-ass.”
Olive looked back to the slides, smiling. “Has it been weird? Having to lie to Tom about us?”
He considered her question. Tom has slept with probably every third woman between here and Harvard, and Adam had gone on a total five dates, three of them fake-dating Wednesdays, in the past six years. Tom had asked about it, but upon seeing Adam’s bashful, blushing expression, determined that he wouldn’t get anything out of “the fucking prude.”
Holden, on the other hand, had been so giddy about our relationship there was a chance that he might be making merchandise, and Adam was already planning to rehash every date in detail with him. Obviously omitting the fact that they were fictional dates.
“No.” He lied, then changed the subject, “It looks like your friends are buying that we’re together.”
“I think so. I’m not exactly a convincing liar, and sometimes I worry that Anh might get suspicious. But I walked in on her and Jeremy making out in the grad lounge the other day.”
He didn’t have a response to that. He adored how far she was willing to go to spare Anh’s feelings. Even if he thought the idea sounded like it came straight from a romance novel. He just didn’t want to get overinvolved in whatever history Olive had with Jeremy. He doubted her story that she never cared for the guy, and Adam didn’t want to bring up any emotions.
Olive didn’t speak again for a while, seemingly interested in Tom’s statistical analysis.
If she was interested, she was the only one. A quick glance around and Adam counted three people sleeping, half-a-dozen empty seats, and fifteen people playing on their phones. He ignored Holden’s small fist pump as he beat whatever level of candy crush he was on.
“It’s working our well for me, I have to say.” Olive’s breath tickled the hair at the base of his neck, and a shiver went down Adam’s spine, “This whole fake-dating thing.”
Right, because this was all a lie. Olive wouldn’t be sitting in his arms if she wasn’t trying to be a good friend. She must have been completely oblivious, thankfully, that his heart had been pounding in his chest for the past forty minutes.
He nodded, jaw tense. Against his better judgement, he tightened the grip around her waist. If this was it for them, a handful of intimate moments in the public eye, he wanted to be able to remember them when they were done.
“What about you?”
“Mmm?” Adam wasn’t looking at her. He couldn’t look at her. If he looked into those eyes, those beautiful, expressive, eyes, there was a chance he might break and tell her everything. She didn’t need him to break. Olive needed him to quit his whining and play the role of the perfect fake-boyfriend.
“Is it working for you?” Her voice needy. Or maybe it wasn’t. Adam’s mind wanted her to sound like she wanted him, like he was playing more than this role in her life.
Is this working for me? Well, I’ve been hornier than I’ve been since high school, thinking about you letting me touch you, taste you, love you. Every morning, I wake up half-tangled in bedsheets, and there’s a split second where I forget that none of this is real, hoping that I’ll roll over and you’ll be there. I spend each weekend waiting for fake-dating Wednesday just so I can spend fifteen minutes buying overpriced coffee to see your dimples when you smile.
Is it working for me? I’m watching the world’s next leading geneticist find her footing. You’re a star, Olive Smith, and I’m lucky enough to catch you shine for just a few, brilliant, moments.
“Or do you maybe want to fake-break up early?” Olive sounded nervous.
Is it working for me? Is fake dating working for me? No, Olive. Fake dating isn’t working. I want to be by your side as you rewrite your abstract for the one-hundredth time. I want to kiss you in hallways and hold your hand on the sidewalk. I want to put you on my health insurance, so you never put a goddamn expired contact in your eye again.
“No.” He waited for Dr Moss to open the question period before continuing, “I don’t want to fake break up.”
It’s not working for me.
She settled back into his lap, seemingly satisfied by his answer. Gingerly, he tilted his face to take one last look at her, to memorize her face from this angle.
But it will have to be enough.