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Moderate: Sexism
Minor: Misogyny, Sexism, Sexual assault
Olive is a perfectly likable protagonist—plucky, flustered, and one lab accident away from being a walking OSHA violation. She’s meant to be a STEM heroine for the anxious girlies, and to her credit, she delivers. But she’s also so self-effacing that by chapter five, I wanted to shake her by the shoulders and say, You have a spine. Use it. Adam is your textbook broody academic: tall, mysterious, and somehow manages to be intimidating and endearing while speaking five words per page. But the depth? Meh. He’s hot. He has abs. He pushes trucks. That’s 90% of his character sheet. The side characters? Serviceable, but not exactly fighting for screen time. Anh’s entire personality is “good friend with sunscreen.” Malcolm is “gay friend with one-liners.” It’s giving ensemble cast, but on a budget.
If you’ve ever been to a research university, congratulations—you’ve been to the setting of this book. Hazelwood captures the general chaos of grad school (fluorescent lights, free food hoarding, labs that smell like stress and ethanol), but it’s all pretty surface-level. The “STEM-ness” is largely aesthetic—this is more about pretend relationships than pipettes. And don’t get me started on the random farm picnic, because who knew academia was such a hotbed for Ultimate Frisbee and poorly supervised PDA?
Hazelwood’s writing is fast, fluffy, and designed to be inhaled in one sitting while procrastinating real work—appropriately meta for a book set in academia. The tone is very fanfic-adjacent, in both good and bad ways: snappy inner monologue, chaotic hijinks, and lots of italics for emphasis. It’s not particularly polished, and occasionally Olive’s thoughts read like they were lifted from an undergrad’s group chat, but there’s charm in the mess. It’s like that lab partner who never shows up on time but somehow gets the job done.
This plot is built on a house of lies, which would be fine—except they’re very dumb lies. The whole “I kissed a random dude and now we’re fake dating to help my friend date my ex who I don’t even like” thing? Absolutely bonkers. And yet I went along with it, mostly because I was too busy watching Olive flounder around trying to pretend she wasn’t falling for the very large man she keeps accidentally kissing. The pacing dips a bit in the middle, and the Big Misunderstanding™ is resolved with all the urgency of a lab tech restocking pipette tips, but it gets to where it needs to go.
I wasn’t exactly on the edge of my seat, but I was solidly invested. The fake-dating tension builds in predictable but satisfying ways, and the chemistry between Olive and Adam—despite the fact that they have about three shared interests and two functioning communication skills—kept me turning pages. It’s basically a slow burn where “slow” means everyone but them knows they’re into each other, and “burn” means somehow Adam ends up shirtless at a picnic and Olive loses higher cognitive function.
Let’s call this what it is: a deeply impractical fantasy that relies on nobody in the Stanford biology department having common sense or HR guidelines. The romance works emotionally but not logistically. Adam is a professor, Olive is a grad student—it’s not unethical by the book, but it’s definitely yikes if you squint. And the whole “everyone believes they’re together” thing is held together by vibes and wishful thinking. The friendships are sweet but undercooked, and most of the character interactions revolve around pretending not to notice Olive dating the department’s most terrifying faculty member.
Listen. Was this book occasionally ridiculous? Yes. Did I roll my eyes? Frequently. But did I devour it like free conference snacks and immediately want to talk about it with someone? Absolutely. It’s comfort food for STEM nerds who want a splash of romance with their imposter syndrome. I had fun. I laughed. I cringed. I swooned a little when Adam lifted Olive onto his lap during a seminar like it was a completely normal thing to do in front of your colleagues. It’s rom-com cotton candy with a side of pipettes—and I ate the whole thing.
Graphic: Sexual content
Moderate: Emotional abuse, Sexism, Sexual harassment
Minor: Cancer, Cursing, Misogyny, Alcohol
Moderate: Sexism, Sexual harassment
Minor: Cursing, Death of parent
Graphic: Misogyny, Sexism, Sexual content, Sexual harassment
Moderate: Cancer, Emotional abuse, Grief, Death of parent, Toxic friendship
Minor: Body shaming, Cursing
Graphic: Cancer, Cursing, Misogyny, Sexual assault, Sexual content, Sexual harassment
Moderate: Bullying, Death, Sexism, Medical content, Death of parent, Gaslighting, Toxic friendship
Minor: Panic attacks/disorders, Violence, Vomit, Grief, Medical trauma, Alcohol
Graphic: Sexual content
Moderate: Cancer, Death of parent
Minor: Sexism, Sexual harassment
Moderate: Sexual content
Minor: Sexism, Sexual assault, Abandonment
Graphic: Sexism, Sexual harassment
Graphic: Sexual content
Moderate: Sexism, Sexual harassment
Minor: Grief, Death of parent