“I was . . . I was afraid you might be mad at me. For ruining things. Your relationship with Tom, and maybe . . . maybe you won’t be able to move to Boston anymore.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care. I couldn’t care less about any of it.” He held her eyes for a long moment, his mouth working as though he was swallowing the rest of his words. But he never continued, so Olive nodded and turned around, starting to walk again.
“I think I’ve found another lab. To finish my study. Closer, so I won’t have to move next year.” She pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at him. There was something intrinsically enjoyable in having him next to her, so physical and undeniable. She felt it on some primal, visceral level, the giddy happiness that always came with his presence. Suddenly, Tom was the last thing she wanted to discuss with Adam. “Dinner was nice. And you were right, by the way.”
“About the pumpkin sludge?”
“No, that was amazing. About Holden. He really is insufferable.”
“He grows on you, after a decade or so.”
“Does he?”
“Nah. Not really.”
“Poor Holden.” She huffed out a small laugh. “You weren’t the only one who remembered, by the way.”
He glanced at her. “Remembered what?”
“Our meeting. The one in the bathroom, when I came to interview.”
Olive thought that maybe his step faltered for a split second. Or maybe it didn’t. Still, there was a tinge of uncertainty in the deep breath he took.
“Did you really?”
“Yup. It just took me a while to realize that it was you. Why didn’t you say anything?” She was so curious about what had been going on in Adam’s head in the past few days, weeks, years. She was starting to imagine quite a bit, but some things . . . some things he’d have to clear up for her.
“Because you introduced yourself like we’d never met before.” She thought maybe he was flushing a little. Maybe not. Maybe it was impossible to tell, in the starless sky and the faint yellow lights. “And I’d been . . . I’d been thinking about you. For years. And I didn’t want to . . .”
She could only imagine. They’d passed each other in the hallways, been at countless department research symposiums and seminars together. She hadn’t thought anything of it, but now . . . now she wondered what he had thought.
He’d been going on and on about this amazing girl for years, but he was concerned about being in the same department, Holden had said.
And Olive had assumed so much. She had been so wrong.
“You didn’t need to lie, you know,” she said, not accusing.
He adjusted the strap of her suitcase on his shoulder. “I didn’t.”
“You sort of did. By omission.
”
“True. Are you . . .” He pressed his lips together. “Are you upset?”
“No, not really. It’s really not that bad a lie.”
“It’s not?”
She nibbled on her thumbnail for a moment. “I’ve said much worse, myself. And I didn’t bring up our meeting, either, even after I made the connection.”
“Still, if you feel—”
“I’m not upset,” she said, gentle but final. She looked up at him, willing him to understand. Trying to figure out how to tell him. How to show him. “I am . . . other things.” She smiled. “Glad, for instance. That you remembered me, from that day.”
“You . . .” A pause. “You are very memorable.”
“Ha. I’m not, really. I was no one—part of a huge incoming cohort.” She snorted and looked down to her feet. Her steps had to be much quicker than his to keep up with his longer legs. “I hated my first year. It was so stressful.”