The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“I thought you were my girlfriend.”
Olive smiled up at him. “Not quite.” But, since we’re on
the topic: why exactly don’t you have one? Because it’s getting
harder and harder for me to figure that one out. Except that
maybe you just don’t want one. Maybe you just want to be on
your own, like everything about your behavior suggests, and
here I am, annoying the shit out of you. I should just pocket my
chips and my candy and go back to my stupid protein samples,
but for some reason you are so comfortable to be around. And
I am drawn to you, even though I don’t know why.
“Do you plan to stay in academia?” he asked. “After you
graduate.”
“Yes. Maybe. No.”
He smiled, and Olive laughed.
“Undecided.”
“Right.”
“It’s just . . . there are things that I love about it. Being in
the lab, doing research. Coming up with study ideas, feeling
that I’m doing something meaningful. But if I go the academic
route, then I’ll also need to do a lot of other things that I
just . . .” She shook her head.
“Other things?”
“Yeah. The PR stuff, mostly. Write grants and convince
people to fund my research. Network, which is a special kind
of hell. Public speaking, or even one-on-one situations where I
have to impress people. That’s the worst, actually. I hate it so
much—my head explodes and I freeze and everyone is looking
at me ready to judge me and my tongue paralyzes and I start
wishing that I was dead and then that the world was dead and
—” She noticed his smile and gave him a rueful look. “You
get the gist.”