And Olive had just kissed him.

She wasn’t sure how long the silence lasted—only that he was the one to break it. He stood in front of Olive, ridiculously intimidating with dark eyes and even darker hair, staring down from who knows how many inches above six feet—he must have been over half a foot taller than she was. He scowled, an expression that she recognized from seeing him attend the departmental seminar, a look that usually preceded him raising his hand to point out some perceived fatal flaw in the speaker’s work.

Adam Carlsen. Destroyer of research careers, Olive had once overheard her adviser say.

It’s okay. It’s fine. Totally fine. She was just going to pretend nothing had happened, nod at him politely, and tiptoe her way out of here. Yes, solid plan.

“Did you . . . Did you just kiss me?” He sounded puzzled, and maybe a little out of breath. His lips were full and plump and . . . God. Kissed. There was simply no way Olive could get away with denying what she had just done.

Still, it was worth a try.

“Nope.”

Surprisingly, it seemed to work.

“Ah. Okay, then.” Carlsen nodded and turned around, looking vaguely disoriented. He took a couple of steps down the hallway, reached the water fountain—maybe where he’d been headed in the first place.

Olive was starting to believe that she might actually be off the hook when he halted and turned back with a skeptical expression.

“Are you sure?”

Dammit.

“I—” She buried her face in her hands. “It’s not the way it looks.”

“Okay. I . . . Okay,” he repeated slowly. His voice was deep and low and sounded a lot like he was on his way to getting mad. Like maybe he was already mad. “What’s going on here?”

There was simply no way to explain this. Any normal person would have found Olive’s situation odd, but Adam Carlsen, who obviously considered empathy a bug and not a feature of humanity, could never understand. She let her hands fall to her sides and took a deep breath.

“I . . . listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is really none of your business.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then he nodded. “Yes. Of course.” He must be getting back into his usual groove, because his tone had lost some of its surprise and was back to normal—dry. Laconic. “I’ll just go back to my office and begin to work on my Title IX complaint.”

Olive exhaled in relief. “Yeah. That would be great, since— Wait. Your what?”

He cocked his head. “Title IX is a federal law that protects against sexual misconduct within academic settings—”

“I know what Title IX is.”

“I see. So you willfully chose to disregard it.”

“I— What? No. No, I didn’t!”

He shrugged. “I must be mistaken, then. Someone else must have assaulted me.”

“Assault—I didn’t ‘assault’ you.”

“You did kiss me.”

“But not really.”

“Without first securing my consent.”

“I asked if I could kiss you!”

“And then did so without waiting for my response.”

“What? You said yes.”

“Excuse me?”

She frowned. “I asked if I could kiss you, and you said yes.”

“Incorrect. You asked if you could kiss me and I snorted.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you said yes.”

He lifted one eyebrow, and for a minute Olive let herself daydream of drowning someone. Dr. Carlsen. Herself. Both sounded like great options.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. It was a weird situation. Can we just forget that this happened?”

He studied her for a long moment, his angular face serious and something else, something that she couldn’t quite decipher because she was too busy noticing all over again how damn towering and broad he was. Just massive. Olive had always been slight, just this side of too slender, but girls who are five eight rarely felt diminutive. At least until they found themselves standing next to Adam Carlsen. She’d known that he was tall, of course, from seeing him around the department or walking across campus, from sharing the elevator with him, but they’d never interacted. Never been this close.

Except for a second ago, Olive. When you almost put your tongue in his—

“Is there something wrong?” He sounded almost concerned.

“What? No. No, there isn’t.”

“Because,” he continued calmly, “kissing a stranger at midnight in a science lab might be a sign that there is.”

“There isn’t.”

Carlsen nodded, thoughtful. “Very well. Expect mail in the next few days, then.” He began to walk past her, and she turned to yell after him.

“You didn’t even ask my name!”

“I’m sure anyone could figure it out, since you must have swiped your badge to get in the labs area after hours. Have a good night.”

“Wait!” She leaned forward and stopped him with a hand on his wrist. He paused immediately, even though it was obvious that it would take him no effort to free himself, and stared pointedly at the spot where her fingers had wrapped around his skin—right below a wristwatch that probably cost half her yearly graduate salary. Or all of it.

She let go of him at once and took one step back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“The kiss. Explain.”

Olive bit into her lower lip. She had truly screwed herself over. She had to tell him, now. “Anh Pham.” She looked around to make sure Anh was really gone. “The girl who was passing by. She’s a graduate student in the biology department.”

Carlsen gave no indication of knowing who Anh was.

“Anh has . . .” Olive pushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear. This was where the story became embarrassing. Complicated, and a little juvenile sounding. “I was seeing this guy in the department. Jeremy Langley, he has red hair and works with Dr. . . . Anyway, we went out just a couple of times, and then I brought him to Anh’s birthday party, and they just sort of hit it off and—”

Olive shut her eyes. Which was probably a bad idea, because now she could see it painted on her lids, how her best friend and her date had bantered in that bowling alley, as if they’d known each other their whole lives; the never-exhausted topics of conversation, the laughter, and then, at the end of the night, Jeremy following Anh’s every move with his gaze. It had been painfully clear who he was interested in. Olive waved a hand and tried for a smile.

“Long story short, after Jeremy and I ended things he asked Anh out. She said no because of . . . girl code and all that, but I can tell that she really likes him. She’s afraid to hurt my feelings, and no matter how many times I told her it was fine she wouldn’t believe me.”

Not to mention that the other day I overheard her confess to our friend Malcolm that she thought Jeremy was awesome, but she could never betray me by going out with him, and she sounded so dejected. Disappointed and insecure, not at all like the spunky, larger-than-life Anh I am used to.

“So I just lied and told her that I was already dating someone else. Because she’s one of my closest friends and I’d never seen her like a guy this much and I want her to have the good things she deserves and I’m positive that she would do the same for me and—” Olive realized that she was rambling and that Carlsen couldn’t have cared less. She stopped and swallowed, even though her mouth felt dry. “Tonight. I told her I’d be on a date tonight.”

“Ah.” His expression was unreadable.

“But I’m not. So I decided to come in to work on an experiment, but Anh showed up, too. She wasn’t supposed to be here. But she was. Coming this way. And I panicked—well.” Olive wiped a hand down her face. “I didn’t really think.”

Carlsen didn’t say anything, but it was there in his eyes that he was thinking, Obviously.

“I just needed her to believe that I was on a date.”

He nodded. “So you kissed the first person you saw in the hallway. Perfectly logical.”