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“Sssh.” His arm slid around her waist, his hand coming to rest on her hip in a gesture that should have been unpleasant but just felt reassuring. His voice was low when he added, “It’s fine.” The words vibrated in her ear, rich and warm. “More material for my Title IX complaint.”
Shit. “God, I’m so sorry—”
“Olive.”
She lifted her eyes to catch his and was shocked to find him . . . not smiling, but something like it.
“I was kidding. You weigh nothing. I don’t mind.”
“I—”
“Ssh. Just focus on the talk. Tom might ask you questions about it.”
This was just . . . Seriously, this whole business, it was completely, utterly . . .
Comfortable. Adam Carlsen’s lap was one of the most comfortable places on earth, as it turned out. He was warm and solid in a pleasant, soothing way, and he didn’t seem to mind too much having Olive half draped over him. After a short while she realized that the room was truly too full for anyone to be paying attention to them, except for a quick glance from Holden Rodrigues, who studied Adam for a long moment and then smiled warmly at Olive before focusing on the talk. She stopped pretending to be able to hold her spine upright for more than five minutes and just let herself lean into Adam’s torso. He didn’t say anything but angled himself a little, just to help her fit more comfortably.
Somewhere halfway through the talk she realized that she had been sliding down Adam’s thigh. Or, to be fair, Adam realized and lifted her up, straightening her in a firm, quick pull that made her feel like she really didn’t weigh anything. Once she was stable again, he didn’t move his arm from where it was snaked around her waist. The talk had been happening for thirty-five minutes going on a century, so no one could blame Olive if she sank into him a little bit more.
It was fine. It was more than fine, actually. It was nice.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he murmured. She felt his lips move against the tendrils of hair above her temple. It should have been Olive’s cue to straighten, but she couldn’t quite make herself.
“I’m not. Though you’re so comfy.”
His fingers tightened on her, maybe to wake her up, maybe to hold her closer. She was about to melt off the chair and start snoring.
“You look like you’re about to take a nap.”
“It’s just that I’ve read all of Tom’s articles. I already know what he’s saying.”
“Yeah, same. We cited all this stuff in our grant proposal.” He sighed, and she felt his body move under hers. “This is dull.”
“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. “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?”
Adam seemed to think about it. “No.” He hesitated. “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.”
They fell quiet and listened to the last few minutes of the talk in silence. In front of them, Olive could see at least two professors taking a nap, and several surreptitiously working on their laptops. Next to Adam, Dr. Rodrigues had been playing Candy Crush on his phone for the past half an hour. Some people had left, and Anh had found a seat about ten minutes ago. So had several of the students who had been next to Olive, which meant that she could have technically stood up and left Adam alone. Technically. Technically, there was an open chair somewhere in the third-to-last row. Technically.
Instead she brought her lips to Adam’s ear once more and whispered, “It’s working out well for me, I have to say. This whole fake-dating thing.” More than well. Better than she ever thought it would.
Adam blinked once and then nodded. Maybe his arm tensed a little around her. Maybe it didn’t, and Olive’s mind was playing tricks on her. It was starting to get late, after all. Her last coffee had been too long ago, and she wasn’t fully awake, her thoughts fuzzy and relaxed.
“What about you?”
“Mmm?” Adam wasn’t looking at her.
“Is it working for you?” It came out a little needy. Olive told herself that it was only because of how low she had to pitch her voice. “Or do you maybe want to fake–break up early?”
