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Yes. He’s saying yes. Olive can hardly believe it. Any of it, if she were being honest. Especially the fact that Stanford would hold Adam’s funds over his head. Everyone knows he’s a brilliant scientist. They would be insane to risk him leaving. Still. Olive can’t believe it.
The fact she kissed Adam Carlsen in the hallway.
Making it through the long hours between the night and right now.
The FBI not knocking on her apartment door to serve harassment charges.
Being in this position, where she’s agreeing to fake date Adam Carlsen and he’s agreeing to fake date her.
Dating. Olive. Dr. Carlsen. It’s happening, right here, right now. He’s a statue sitting before her in his black button-down, black pants, and black shoes. His beard is trimmed perfectly; not a hair out of place. Everything about Dr. Carlsen is precise. He might be known as Dr. Evil to the students of Stanford Biology, but Olive is sure he could date a real human woman if he wanted to. Stable job, objectively handsome, just…just a little terse, that’s all. The issue is when he speaks. His mouth opens, and he becomes objective to the point of sounding rude, but Olive wonders — she thinks he’s just concise. Appreciates clear communication and wants to give that in return.
Clear communication.
“So we’re fake dating.”
He looks confused for a moment, likely because it’s Adam Carlsen and he probably has no idea what fake dating is. She can’t imagine he watches rom-coms or reads romance novels during his spare time. Adam — Dr. Carlsen. Should she call him Adam? — holds his hands out before clapping them together.
“Ah, yes.”
Because Olive hates herself and clearly wants to make this as uncomfortable as possible, she cheers a little cheer. He doesn’t move a muscle.
“Sorry. Um, no, it’s just ah — I mean, it’s just so —”
“Unbelievable that you would date Dr. Evil?”
Olive cringes. She can’t believe she called him that to his face, let alone right after he got her out of a bind. Even worse, there’s a hint of dejection in his voice. Resignation that he be called Dr. Evil by the masses. But his eyes. They’re so — God, Olive really feels awful.
“It’s fine. Of all the nicknames I’ve heard, I think I like that one the best.”
He sounds almost sad that Olive called him Dr. Evil, but this is his way of being kind about it. She wonders what other nicknames he’s heard through the years; she’s sure they’re a dime a dozen. For someone so intelligent and straightforward, he’s probably been misunderstood as long as he’s been alive. If he softened what he had to say just a little, people might understand him better. Like Olive. She’d like to understand him better, especially why he’s going along with this. Stanford might play a game with him, but they will never let him go. He’s too important. Clearly, there’s a heart buried down there underneath all those facts.
“I have another meeting now.”
Adam doesn’t want to sit here, speaking to Olive about how he’s Dr. Evil. He doesn’t want to be. Not to her. He has a finite amount of time with Olive, and he hopes they will be friends by the end. She’s the first person to make him come up for air in months. Years. He won’t squander that, even if it means he’ll be irrevocably changed by the time it’s over. He’ll learn to cope somehow.
“Okay.”
Is she disappointed? He almost stopped to verify, but the ball was rolling now. He’s already stated he has a meeting, which is true. An unimportant meeting, but a meeting nonetheless; he can’t pretend he didn’t. The words hang between them like stale air.
Plus, he needs to get out of his office. It doesn’t seem like she’s realized that he painted it olive green three years ago after he met her. She looks like she belongs in his office, his space, in her green cardigan with that smile that does something to his gut. She’s not wearing her row of buns today, and that’s doing something to his brain, too. Her hair cascades in waves down her shoulders, and Adam can’t quite believe this is his life. He’s — what did she call it? — fake dating Olive Smith.
He’s Olive Smith’s boyfriend.
What a privilege.
Adam reaches for his jacket, letting his imagination get away with him. His jacket, being worn by Olive instead. The opportunity to hold her hand. Them going on dates. They haven’t hammered that down, actually. He wonders if he’ll have free rein. This is good, actually. He needs time to think.
What do people do for fun? Adam doesn’t date. He isn’t sure he’s ever been on a real date. If he has, it’s been so long that he doesn’t remember. When he wants to have fun, Adam works, or he goes for a run. Lifting weights gets him out of his head, but fun. The idea of doing an activity with another person for pure enjoyment is novel. He’s never been in this situation before.
He overheard Dr. Moss talking about a paint and wine sipping event, which is idiotic. That won’t be one of their dates. Adam will need to find her likes and dislikes and evaluate from there. He’ll research until he figures out the perfect activities so Olive enjoys herself.
At least one dinner, of course. Adam loves the idea of that, though he isn’t sure why. He hardly cares about food on the best of days, but he knows Olive loves it. She inhales it as if it were her last supper whenever there’s free food nearby.
He wonders if he’ll be allowed to learn more about her. Adam has always been curious about her background and what made her want to study pancreatic cancer. If she has a favorite holiday, or would be interested in hiking with him. Maybe she enjoys being outside, or would want to visit national parks. The possibilities are endless, but most of all, Adam wants to help her. That’s all he wanted ever since they met.
“So, if you’ll excuse —”
Adam hadn’t realized Olive moved toward him until she was right there. She’s right here. Close enough to touch — to kiss, even. He hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t prepared for it. She smells of vanilla and everything he never knew he wanted, but everything he needs. She caught him off guard that night, too. The night of the kiss when Adam thought he’d been dreaming. Yet, here she is again, so close that if Adam were to dip his head, he could recreate those few magical moments.
It ends all too soon.
Olive’s eyes widen as she realizes her mistake. Probably because Adam is a deer in the headlights. Are they already on kissing terms? Is he ready for that? Kissing Olive Smith whenever the situation calls for it is not something he thought about. Of course he wants to kiss her, but he needs to be concerned about self-preservation. He already can’t stop thinking about the singular kiss they shared. He needs to prepare emotionally.
Him.
Preparing his emotions for something.
What has the world come to?
“Oh, I thought you were going in for a hug.”
“No. I was —”
Adam’s brain short-circuits.
She —
A hug.
Olive wanted to hug him. As in, she wanted to touch Adam. Willingly. When was the last time someone openly, consciously touched him of their own accord? Not because they had to shake his hand or required pleasantries, but because they wanted him that close? To have a connection with Adam?
His parents certainly didn’t want that with him. He had so few friends he could count them on one hand. A girlfriend is something that…no. Then Olive happened. She appeared like a hurricane, and Adam — he just denied her a hug because he doesn’t understand normal human interaction. Because no one has wanted to hug him in years, if ever.
“Sorry —”
“ — getting my jacket.”
“Okay.”
“It —”
“We can —”
“A — should I —? Is it good to —?”
“ — work on this.”
“Call you Adam?”
Olive is speaking at the same time as he is, and she thinks he’s asking if she should call him Adam. Which, yes. She should. His name falling from her lips is making Adam’s head spin. What a meeting this has been. It might ruin him by the time its over.
Olive wanted to hug him.
“Okay so we can work on this — the spec —”
She shakes his hand firmly, as if she isn’t sure how to reconcile his blunder either. Her skin is soft and warm against his, and again, Adam can’t believe they’re touching. They’re shaking hands. He’s flustered over a handshake.
Three years, and nothing has changed.
Olive like the tree made him flustered then, too. Dazed and confused was how he spent the rest of his day. He wondered repeatedly if she’d accept the position at Stanford, and spent the passing hours hoping she would. He spent his nights trying to understand why he was even thinking about her; this mysterious woman who had him in a chokehold. Then, he spent the next few years thinking wonderful, horrible things about how perfect and intelligent and beautiful she is. Adam thought he’d need to wait years until after she graduated to strike up a conversation, if he could manage to think of anything other than math or science, and now…
Now Olive wanted to hug him.
“Specifics.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
She leaves him with a quiet goodbye, and much like all his other interactions with Olive Smith, Adam isn’t entirely sure what happened. They should work out the specifics. Ground rules, dates, expectations — all of it. He wishes he had more experience with people, let alone women. Maybe this meeting would’ve gone differently. Maybe he wouldn’t have been stiff and awkward, stuck in his head about the fact that this is happening. Someone else would have known that she wanted to touch him, to hug him. They would’ve leaned forward and pulled her into them, but to Adam the idea was unfathomable.
He remembers meeting her all those painstaking days ago. The way she flipped his world upside down with red eyes and a smile. His skin burned that day, too. An electric hum that started in his fingertips and ran through his nerve-endings until it lit his brain like the firework shows he hated growing up. A small spark that turned into a wildfire.
Adam stares at his hand, willing the burn to go away and praying it never does. It’s a stark reminder that the few minutes they shared in his lab’s bathroom were real. Olive is real and so lovely, his chest aches.
And now she’s his fake girlfriend.
He looks at the door to where she’s walking down the hall, wondering if this was a dream, too. His skin still tingles, so he knows it’s not.
I thought you were going in for a hug.
Olive wanted to hug him; to wrap her arms around Adam and pull him into her. She’d been open to hugging him. To willingly touch him when he assumed she never would. Disappointment is a fickle thing. It settles in his gut as realization dawns.
He missed a chance at hugging Olive Smith.
Adam knows he’ll spend the rest of the day, the week ruminating over her words and how much they mean to him. Never again. He’ll never miss the opportunity to hug Olive Smith ever again.