The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

“Adam, I’m pretty sure that if we were to ask anyone to
describe you with one word, ‘brutal’ would come up one or
ten times.”
She saw him stiffen before she was even done speaking,
the line of his shoulders suddenly tense and rigid, his jaw tight
and with a slight twitch to it. Her first instinct was to
apologize, but she was not sure for what. There was nothing
new to what she’d just told him—they’d discussed his blunt,
uncompromising mentoring style before, and he’d always
taken it in stride. Owned it, even. And yet his fists were
clenched on the table, and his eyes were darker than usual.
“I . . . Adam, did I—” she stammered, but he interrupted
her before she could continue.
“Everyone has issues with their advisers,” he said, and
there was a finality to his tone that warned her not to finish her
sentence. Not to ask What happened? Where did you just go?
So she swallowed and nodded. “Dr. Aslan is . . .” She
hesitated. His knuckles were not quite as white anymore, and
the tension in his muscles was slowly dissolving. It was
possible that she’d imagined it. Yes, she must have. “She’s
great. But sometimes I feel like she doesn’t really understand
that I need more . . .” Guidance. Support. Some practical
advice, instead of blind encouragement. “I’m not even sure
what I need, myself. I think that might be part of the problem
—I’m not very good at communicating it.”
He nodded and appeared to choose his words carefully.
“It’s hard, mentoring. No one teaches you how to do it. We’re
trained to become scientists, but as professors, we’re also in
charge of making sure that students learn to produce rigorous
science. I hold my grads accountable, and I set high standards
for them. They’re scared of me, and that’s fine. The stakes are
high, and if being scared means that they’re taking their
training seriously, then I’m okay with it.”