Olive looked up at him, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes. "I'm just thinking about the end of the month. About ending the agreement."
His proximity was overwhelming. He smelled like cedarwood, expensive soap, and espresso. Olive's brain, usually so sharp and analytical, turned to absolute mush.
The hypothesis had been thoroughly disproven. She was no longer faking. She was wildly, desperately, and hopelessly in love with her fake boyfriend.
It was only after she pulled back, gasping, that she realized she had just non-consensually kissed Dr. Adam Carlsen.
"You're squinting at your data," Adam said one rainy Tuesday evening, leaning over her shoulder to look at her computer screen.
"Fiercely," Adam replied, his voice thick with emotion. "With every fiber of my being. Always."


















