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"It's delicious, Carlsen," she countered, sticking her tongue out at him. "Your drink tastes like burnt dirt and misery."

She had grabbed the nearest tall, broad-shouldered man standing by the water fountain, pulled him down by his lapels, and pressed her lips to his.

"That isn't coffee, Smith," he muttered, though he dutifully paid for it with his faculty credit card. "That is a diabetic crisis in a paper cup." "That is a diabetic crisis in a paper cup

But as the night wore on, the weight of the lie became too heavy for Olive to bear. September 29th was only a week away. Soon, the experiment would be over. Adam would go back to being the untouchable professor, and she would go back to being just another student in the hallways.

Immediately, Adam was removing his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders. It was warm from his body, heavy and comforting. Adam would go back to being the untouchable

To her absolute shock, the corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn't a full smile—Adam Carlsen didn't do full smiles—but it was a distinct, undeniable softening of his features.

At first, Olive was terrified. Adam was massive, brooding, and spoke mostly in blunt, unyielding facts. Adam was massive

It was Anh’s meddling that had landed Olive in her current, utterly ridiculous predicament.