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Since Olive Smith’s cohort started, they had this exact discussion what felt like a hundred times. Adam’s head was pounding.
“No, Holden. It’s been five years. I’m not going to mess with her life now.”
“But what about—”
“True love? Yeah. You’ve already brought that up. True love would mean Olive would have remembered me when she started at Stanford. She doesn’t. Let her live her life.”
Holden pouted. “I could ask Malcolm, if you want. I bet he knows everything. They’re best friends. Lived together for ages.”
“Leave her alone,” Adam bit out.
“But Valentine’s Day is this week,” he whined. “It’s her last year! Time is running out.”
Adam took a sip of his beer, shaking his head. He didn’t need to be reminded that his days of catching glimpses of the woman of his dreams were numbered. He and Holden were on their annual Palentine’s Day Dinner, as Holden liked to call it. He repelled the thought of Adam never doing anything on what Holden believed to be the most romantic day of the year.
“Sometimes I cannot believe our friendship has made it this long. Valentine’s Day is a consumerist holiday created by the Hallmark corporation to—”
“—to get people to confess their undying love! You’re basically their target market, dude.”
He shook his head, tamping down his smile. Holden was wrong, but Adam loved him anyway. It was impossible not to.
“Shall we run to the store now? I could buy a frilly card and write something horrid. Something…something like…” Adam mulled it over, thinking of the worst, cheesiest thing his brain could muster. “Roses are red, violets are blue…” Neither of which had anything to do with the woman in question. Over the years, he had learned that Olive Smith had no middle name. Her face donned adorable freckles, and her hair was the loveliest shade of chestnut brown, often tied in a messy bun—his favorite. Adam adored when some of the tendrils fell loose to frame her face. It was always too easy to imagine tucking one safely behind her ear, not that he’d ever get the chance. She had perfectly pink lips that were often curved into a smile. She was everything to him. Especially her green eyes. Well, green when they weren’t red and splotchy from crying.
Crying.
The day they met.
Holden was waiting on tenterhooks, as though this actually mattered. It didn’t.
“Roses are red, violets are blue, we were in my bathroom, when I fell in love with you.”
Holden gasped loud enough that the restaurant grew quiet.
“Holden,” Adam hissed.
“That is—
“Ridiculous. I was being sarcastic. I would never—”
“—the most perfect—”
“—ever put that—”
“—romantic, wonderful thing—”
“—in a card for Olive.”
“—that has ever come out of your mouth. You have to tell her.”
He snorted. “Sure. How about I call her right now?”
“I’m serious! Are you kidding? She’d love it.”
“No, Holden. We’ve been over this. Leave Olive alone.”
“I want you to be happy,” he pressed.
Adam looked him dead in the eye. “The last time you said something similar, you conned me into dating someone I didn’t realize I was dating, who then broke up with me very loudly in a coffee shop. Or have you forgotten?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Leave her alone,” he stressed. “I’m no good for Olive Smith.”
He wished he were. Adam wished for a lot of things when it came to the woman in question.
That she remembered him.
That they met at a season of life that would allow for more.
That he could stop thinking about her.
That he wasn’t a faculty member, and had the courage to say hello.
That she would smile at him, just once.
Time had always proven to be telling, though, and Adam knew better than to wish at all. She had her future ahead of her. A future that did not include him, but instead a world full of science and laughter. Friendships and relationships with people who could uplift Olive, not bring her down. Even if there were a scenario in which Olive wanted to date Adam, it would not be without its consequences.
She deserved more.
Adams throat tightened as he pushed his beer away.
It was a sobering thought.
Five years. She had been at Stanford for five years. It had become something of a home to Olive. She had made wonderful friends and memories here. Grown as a person and blossomed into her scientist shoes.
Still.
She was lonely. She had Anh and Malcolm, but there were some holes that not even the best of friendships could fill. Plus, they had their people. Anh and Jeremy were glued at the hip and lived together. Malcolm graduated and moved in with Holden. And Olive…
Olive still spent an unnatural amount of time thinking about a blurred figure from a bathroom. It made no sense to think about someone whose name she didn’t even know, whose face she never saw, as much as she did, but Olive couldn’t help it. He was her comfort blanket.
Fantasizing about meeting him again one day, hearing he had thought of her as much as she thought of him, was one of her favorite ways to pass the time when she was all alone. She lived by herself now, in a small, dark, dingy studio apartment, no Malcolm to keep the monsters at bay.
Worst?
Today was Valentine’s Day.
Olive was a strong believer that if you were fortunate enough to love someone, you should tell them thoroughly and often. Not everyone had that opportunity, and it could be taken in an instant. But Valentine’s Day. The day when everyone had hearts in their eyes and declarations on their tongue. The day Olive had never done anything on. The day that forced her to look her loneliness in the eye, and ask it if it would like to have a drink with her.
She froze, staring at her bench. There was a pink frappuccino sitting atop it. A Valentine’s Day special—strawberry shortcake. Was it placed there by accident? Or maybe Anh did this? Malcolm, perhaps, if he had time during his lunch hour?
It had her name on it.
There was nothing else. No note. No card. No receipt. No fuss. Just a random act of kindness. It was a quiet show of support, a small ‘I’ve got you.’
Her smile was a mile wide.
“Thank you, kind stranger.”
The room was empty, but hopefully the universe would relay her message. She had a small skip in her step when she bounded into the hallway. Not even the class she was TAing for Bio 1010 would get her down this afternoon. In fact, Olive downright enjoyed it, given the pink drink in her hand that warded off evil spirits.
Delicious.
“Later, Ms. Smith!”
“See ya!”
It wasn’t until she neared the break room that Olive realized people were looking at her strangely. She rounded the threshold, stopping dead in her tracks for a second time. On the break room table was the largest bouquet of flowers she had ever seen.
Roses.
Dahlias.
Peonies.
Ranunculus.
Various greenery.
So. Many. Flowers.
It was stunning, and very nearly larger than Anh.
“Jeremy outdid himself!”
“No way, chica. Nu-uh. Spill the beans. And I mean all of them, Olive Louise.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend! That’s like, against the number one rule of friendship!”
Dr. Carlsen and Dr. Rodrigues walked in behind her. They were an odd duo that Olive often saw together. Dr. Rodrigues was always beaming, and Dr. Carlsen…not so much. His scowl was nowhere to be seen now, though. He stared at the flowers as though his own heart were being ripped from his chest. Dr. Rodrigues nudged him.
“I don’t have a boyfriend! Those aren’t for me.”
“Uh, yeah, they are.”
“C’mon, Ol! Don’t be shy,” Jeremy said. “Who’s the fella?”
“There’s no fella. Why do you think those are for me, anyway?”
Anh plucked a card from the middle of the bouquet. “Unless there’s another Olive, it’s for you.”
Olive blinked. Then blinked again. “That’s my name.”
“It sure is. Now do us all a favor and open it because all of my willpower has gone toward not opening it, and I’ve had enough.”
Her eyes widened and narrowed just as quickly. Heat flooded her cheeks. The front of the card read: ‘We have Chemistry’ in a cute font, and ‘Be Mine’, with the periodic table.
“Oh. My. God. That is so cute. Jer! Why don’t you get me shit like this?”
Olive ignored their bickering, holding the card close. Her heart thudded to a stop, knees weak. She was dizzy. Actually dizzy. Her breath caught in her throat, leaving her winded.
“Oh my—”
“What the—sit down. You’re like, white white. What does it say?”
It was him. The Guy. He was still here. Olive was half convinced she had made up the words when Anh snatched the card from her grasp. She felt like she was floating, surveying the people around her.
Dr. Rodrigues with his knowing smile.
Jeremy’s confused expression.
Other grads who had no clue how monumental this was for her.
Anh’s eyes widening to the size of saucers.
Dr. Carlsen’s pale face and the way he was looking at Olive with worry and a hint of devastation, like this card was breaking him in two.
“Oh. MY. I am calling Malcolm RIGHT NOW,” Anh squealed, jumping up and down. “OH MY LANTA OLIVE LOUISE!!!!”
“Is this supposed to mean something?” Jeremy asked.
“Mean somethi—mean something?! You’re not a sloth, Jeremy! Keep up!”
“Roses are red, violets are blue, we were in my bathroom, when I fell in love with you,” Jeremy recited. “Did you fuck someone in a bathroom then?”
Dr. Carlsen choked on his water, sputtering it into the sink.
“Excuse us,” Dr. Rodrigues said, clapping his back.
“No, I didn’t fuck someone in a bathroom! You know I’m not—that I don’t—no!”
“She fell in love with this guy the day she interviewed for Stanford. Total ghost. Sixth-year grad student. We couldn’t find him anywhere. I mean anywhere, Jer.”
“Were your eyes glued shut? How do you not know what he looks like?”
“I was crying, so I never saw him. Everything was blurry. It’s a long story. I didn’t get his name. But he had to have graduated. I thought he graduated!”
“I’m at work,” Malcolm said. “Gotta be quick.”
“This is DEFCON. Get this. Olive got this bouquet of flowers—”
“Why is all of this happening the year I’m gone?” Malcolm whined.
“—a mystery frappuccino, and a card that says—you’re gonna want to sit down for this one—roses are red, violets are blue, we were in my bathroom, when I fell in love with you.”
Malcolm gasped. “OH MY—Kalamata!”
“Olive can’t speak right now. She’s out of commission.”
It was true. Olive was catatonic on the couch, and Dr. Carlsen was still choking in the corner. He looked like he might be sick.
“What else does it say? We have to figure this out. Kalamata is gonna ride into the sunset with her man, hell or high water.”
“Yes!” Anh hissed.
“Ol. Tell us everything you remember. Start from the beginning.”
Adam dragged Holden out of the breakroom and into his office. They stared at each other. Adam tilted his head, eyes narrowing. You’d better start speaking right fucking now, Rodrigues. Holden nodded.
“That’s fair. I probably should go first. I—”
“What have you done?”
“—helped you out, brother. I cannot stand another day of you torturing yourself like this. Did you see her face?” Holden looked so, so happy. Adam wanted to punch his smile off and into the ether.
The room was spinning, and for the first time, Adam wasn’t sure he wouldn’t snap. He might kill his best friend. For real. And then he’d end up in jail, and he still wouldn’t be with Olive. He wouldn’t even be able to read her future research.
“She remembers you, Adam!” He continued excitedly. “Five years! She’s thought about you, too, and—”
“And what’s she going to think when she finds out it’s me? Hmm? Did you think about how stalkerish this seems?”
“Pfft. You’re focusing on the wrong parts. She’s excited. She wants to know who you are. You heard Anh and Malcolm. You meant something to her!”
“She’s not going to find out.” Adam would dig his heels in. He wasn’t good for Olive. Still…
She fell in love with this guy the day she interviewed for Stanford.
He didn’t dare believe it. Adam rubbed his chest. Hope. It was hope blooming deep in his core. He needed to kill it.
Holden straightened his spine. “I’m not letting you out of this one. She wants you, too. I didn’t create this Valentine Vortex for you to skate your way out of it. We are diving headfirst into the madness, my friend.”
“You shouldn’t have created it at all.”
“Well, strap in. Because there’s another hint coming her way.”
They looked at each other, then at his door. It was the only way out. A moment passed between them; just a beat, then another. It was like they were kids again, prepping for a race—Adam bolted for the exit, but Holden was just as fast. Fueled by some sort of bullshit Valentine’s Day magic, huffing as he pulled Adam to the ground.
“You are so fucking annoying, you little—let go of me!” Adam snapped. Holden bolted upright, taking a stance in front of the door, forcing Adam to stay put. “You really want me to punch you. I’ll do it, Holden. Try me.”
“You are fighting fate!”
Olive’s head was still spinning. They had gotten nowhere in terms of finding out who the Guy was. Jeremy and Anh left for their date, and Olive hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch in the breakroom. The flowers were her new best friend. She couldn’t stop looking at them.
There was a knock at the door.
“You Olive?”
“I am.”
“I was asked to give you this.”
It was another card, attached to a box of chocolates.
“A haiku?!”
“She’s on a scavenger hunt!”
“Leading to where, Holden? What the fuck is wrong with you!”
“Your heart, obviously. How have you not figured this out yet? Say it with me. Valentine’s Da—”
“I’m going to go slow,” Adam snapped. “Make your death painful.”
Holden waggled his brows. “And when she gets there, there’s hopefully an invitation for something else. Love, perhaps?”
He said it so simply. As though this were no big deal. As though he weren’t imploding Adam’s life, and Olive’s life.
“I don’t have permission to date her. Did you forget about that?”
Holden shifted guiltily.
“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
Holden held his hands up. “Not everything. I wanted this to be kosher for you. I thought it would help ease your anxiety. The dean is fully on board with you asking her on a date. She thought you’d be—”
Adam lunged.
Five years, I’ve wondered
If you mistook my silence.
I never forgot you.
Olive touched the paper. If she were being honest, none of this felt like her Guy. She wanted it to be him, but it didn’t feel like him. Her Guy was…practical. Resourceful. No-nonsense. Dry and laconic. Straight to the point.
Not a haiku writer or a bouquet wielder. He didn’t think free dinners were worth the small talk, but somehow knew where to buy expensive European chocolate? It made no sense.
“And for the grand finale—” Holden wheezed. Adam had him in a headlock. “—dinner, where you confess your love. I made you reservations somewhere nice.”
They were wrestling on the floor of Adam’s office, like they used to when they were kids. Except this time, Adam really, really, wanted to win. The problem was, he had a soft spot for his dumbass of a best friend, whose neck was turning a concerning color. Adam released him. Holden was already grinning again.
“This is fun, am I right?”
“I hate you.”
Adam hadn’t felt this dejected in a long time. There was no way to fix this without telling Olive the truth, which meant that he was going to have to stand Olive up because the truth was not an option. He’d have to make her hate him. It would be the worst Valentine’s Day she’d ever had.
“You’ll have fun tonight. I promise. Now, I’ve gotta run and get ready for my man.”
Olive hadn’t moved from the couch. Everyone else was long gone; the windows were dark, and the lights were turned off. They had all left for dates or whatever else people did on Valentine’s Day. She was so fixated on the soft petals of the flowers, warm colors blending together in harmony, that she hadn’t noticed a tall figure walk in. Not until the couch dipped next to her.
“Hey, Dr. Carlsen.”
He looked tired. Worn. Maybe he hadn’t recovered from his coughing fit.
“Hey, Olive.”
“Are you feeling better? The choking on water thing?”
Olive didn’t know why she asked. She had hardly spoken to him before now, but his shirt was torn, his hair askew. He looked haggard. In need of some kindness.
He snorted. “Hardly.”
“Are you telling me it’s all downhill when you hit 30?”
A ghost of a chuckle. “Sorry to report, but yes.”
She hummed, plucking one of the roses from the arrangement. “For you. Maybe it’ll help, unless you’d like some chocolate, too?”
He held the flower as if it were his personal salvation, sending Olive an uneven smile. It was nice to be able to share with someone.
“What’s that?”
“A cake.” She scooted it toward him.
“The decoration is…”
A lot. It was very ornately decorated, with intricate piping and perfectly smooth buttercream. Edible glitter dusted the top.
“I was asked on a date. Or something. I’m not sure. The frosting just says Madera. 8 PM. Nothing else.”
“Sounds ominous.”
She nodded. “Could be a hit, you know?”
His lips twitched. “A hit?”
“Yeah. Like…mafia stuff or whatever. I’m an accomplice, and everything that happened today was a ruse. I need to be ready at 8 PM to be the getaway driver, or slip a poison into a fancy pants drink as payback for crimes against grad students.”
“About that.” Dr. Carlsen sighed, running his hands through his hair. He was an oddly handsome man, glowing in dimly lit shadows. Unqiue in a way Olive could appreciate. Young. Younger than most faculty member rockstars.
“Yeah. That. The thing is, I thought it was this guy.”
He stilled. “Thought?”
“It doesn’t feel like him, though, you know what I mean?”
He stared at her.
“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s Valentine’s Day. You should go. You’re married, right? I feel like everyone is.”
“No. Not married.” He tapped his foot. “Are you going to go? To Madera?”
“I’m not sure. Probably not.”
His foot stilled. “Why?”
“Like I said, it doesn’t feel like him.”
“But if it was him?”
His brow was furrowed, lips tilted in a frown. This seemed to be a sticking point for him. Like he really wanted to know. Of course. He probably thought—
“I’m not the kind of person to stand people up, I swear. I don’t even date. It’s just…this doesn’t feel like him. I can’t explain it. But if it were him, yeah, I’d go.”
He softened. “You would?”
“I’d love to meet him. This is all beautiful, don’t get me wrong—I’m totally going to demolish that cake later, and if that box of chocolates had legs I’d tell it to run. The flowers are stunning—but it almost seems too…too…” She bit her lower lip. “It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been. He was straight to the point. Practical. He didn’t give me the vibe that he’s ostentatious, only factual. Kind of deadpan, in a good way. No bullshit, but all quiet support.”
“You really do remember him.”
“I do. What he said meant a lot to me.”
He rolled his neck and sat up a touch straighter. “All of this wasn’t him. It was his best friend.”
“What?”
“Holden did all of this.”
“But Holden is your best friend.”
He looked at her earnestly, like he knew this could go one of two ways, either of which could break him.
Olive’s lips parted. Holden is his best friend.
“I didn’t know he was doing this, Olive. I’m sorry. This isn’t how I ever wanted you to find out.”
“You.”
“Me.”
“It wasn’t you!”
“It was not.”
“I knew it. I knew I wasn’t wrong about him.”
She knew the Guy. His cheeks flushed, and if Olive weren’t mistaken, he seemed bashful.
“But you’d want to go to dinner with him?”
“I would.”
“After all of this?”
Olive tapped the haiku. “I’m assuming there’s some truth here, given Holden is your best friend?”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Yes.”
“I never forgot either.”
His shoulder sagged. “You’re a student, and I was worried. I thought you didn’t remember.”
“I never saw you, and before you go on another health and safety rant, I’d like it to be known that I have new contacts. Someone once told me that eyes are expensive.”
His lower lip quivered. “You never saw me.”
Olive softened her tone. “I tried to find you.”
“Do you want to go to Madera?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look a little worse for wear, and I don’t own any nice going-out-for-dinner clothes. I highly doubt they’d allow leggings.”
“I wanted to kill Holden in my office.”
Olive bit down her smile. “What are your thoughts on fine dining establishments, Dr. Carlsen?”
“Adam. And I’m happy to go if you want to.”
“You really want to have dinner with me?”
He nodded.
“I’m not going to lie. I thought I’d never meet the Guy, but I definitely didn’t think it would be like this. The whole day has been unlike anything else. Was any of it you?”
He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Why do you ask?”
“The frappuccino. It was sitting on my bench. No notes. No fuss. Just a frappuccino. It was the best surprise.”
“I always liked the idea of getting a coffee with you. It’s dumb, but I wanted to do something for you. Holden was in my head, and I…” He rolled his lips together. “I overheard you tell your friend the other day how much you wanted to try that one.”
“It made my day. Thank you.”
Silence fell over them like a weighted blanket. Olive wasn’t sure what to think. She had never considered that this would be how she would find out who the Guy was. She didn’t blame him for keeping his distance; he was trying to be respectful, even now. But…Adam Carlsen. Destroyer of research careers, and bashful boy on Valentine’s Day.
She stood to her feet. “C’mon.”
Olive could set the rumors aside. He deserved a real chance. He was the Guy. That counted for a lot in her book.
“Where are we going?”
“My place has cockroaches and no couch or table. What’s yours like?”
“No cockroaches, and there’s a couch and a table.”
“How do you feel about pizza, shitty TV, and getting to know each other? And cake, of course.”
“That sounds perfect.”
He seemed too happy for words, especially when Olive entwined their fingers. She had no idea what she was doing. This was Adam Carlsen, but it was also her Guy, and now Olive was holding his hand. It was still dry and warm, like it had been all that time ago, large in the way it enveloped Olive’s. It was pleasant, sending a zing that spread from her fingertips all the way down her spine.
It really was him.
Finally.
Olive tugged on his hand when they reached his Prius. She should have asked. Made sure he was okay with what she was about to do. Instead, Olive stepped on her toes while her courage was high and pressed her lips against his. It was evident from his sharp inhale and the way he froze that he hadn’t expected it, but he thawed just as quickly, bending his head to accommodate their height difference and leaning into the kiss. The heat radiating from him through her clothes when he pulled her closer served as a stark reminder that he was very much real, and not a figment of Olive’s imagination. He was gentle. Passionate and more than willing to let Olive take the lead. She wasn’t sure if he consciously realized he was following her lips as she pulled away, trying to keep the gap between them closed, like he didn’t want her to go. Ever.
It made the moment all the sweeter.
He was searching her eyes, waiting for a signal that what happened was okay, as though Olive wasn’t the one to initiate the kiss in the first place. His lips parted when he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as though that were the most precious thing he had ever done. Olive couldn’t wait to know his secrets.
She beamed at him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Adam.”