The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

—
WHEN SHE RECEIVED the email, she initially thought it must be
an error. Maybe she’d misread—she hadn’t been sleeping well,
and as it turned out, having an unwanted, unreciprocated crush
came with all sorts of scatter-headedness—though after a
second look, then a third and a fourth, she realized that wasn’t
the case. So maybe the mistake was on the SBD conference’s
side. Because there was no way—absolutely no way—that
they’d really meant to inform her that the abstract she’d
submitted had been selected to be part of a panel.
A panel with faculty.
It was just not possible. Graduate students were rarely
selected for oral presentations. Most of the time they just made
posters with their findings. Talks were for scholars whose
careers were already advanced—except that when Olive
logged into the conference website and downloaded the
program, her name was there. And out of all the speakers’
names, hers was the only one not followed by any letters. No
MD. No Ph.D. No MD-Ph.D.
Crap.
She ran out of the lab clutching her laptop to her chest.
Greg gave her a dirty look when she almost crashed into him
in the hallway, but she ignored him and stormed inside Dr.
Aslan’s office out of breath, her knees suddenly made of jelly.
“Can we talk?” She closed the door without waiting for an
answer.
Her adviser looked up from behind her desk with an
alarmed expression. “Olive, what is—”
“I don’t want to give a talk. I can’t give a talk.” She shook
her head, trying to sound reasonable but only managing panic-