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“I have a great spam filter.”
Olive frowned. “Does it block Stanford emails, too? Because it shouldn’t. It might end up filtering out important messages from admin and students and—”
Adam arched one eyebrow.
“Oh. Right.”
Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. He doesn’t need to know how much he makes you laugh.
“Well, we should go get our flu shots.”
“I’m good.”
“You got one already?”
“No.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s mandatory for everyone.”
The set of Adam’s shoulders clearly broadcasted that he was, in fact, not everyone. “I never get sick.”
“I doubt it.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Hey, the flu is more serious than you might think.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It is, especially for people like you.”
“Like me?”
“You know . . . people of a certain age.”
His mouth twitched as he turned into the campus parking lot. “You smart-ass.”
“Come on.” She leaned forward, poking his biceps with her index finger. They had touched so much at this point. In public, and alone, and a mixture of the two. It didn’t feel we
ird. It felt good and natural, like when Olive was with Anh, or Malcolm. “Let’s go together.”
He didn’t budge, parallel parking in a spot that would have taken Olive about two hours of maneuvering to fit into. “I don’t have time.”
“You just agreed to go get coffee. You must have some time.”
He finished parking in less than a minute and pressed his lips together. Not answering her.
“Why don’t you want to get the shot?” She studied him suspiciously. “Are you some kind of anti-vaxxer?”
Oh, if looks could kill.
“Okay.” She furrowed her brow. “Then why?”
“It’s not worth the hassle.” Was he fidgeting a little? Was he biting the inside of his lip?
“It literally takes ten minutes.” She reached for him, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. “You get there, they scan your university badge. They give you the shot.” She felt his muscles tense under her fingertips as she said the last word. “Easy peasy, and the best part is, you don’t get the flu for a whole year. Totally— Oh.” Olive covered her mouth with her hand.
“What?”
