Page 212 - The Love Hypothesis
P. 212

“You  don’t  think  I  accepted  you  into  my  lab  because  you  are  good,  do

                you?”
                    Slack-jawed,  she  took  one  more  step  back.  One  of  her  heels  almost
                caught in the carpet, and she had to hold on to the table to avoid falling.

                    “A girl like you. Who figured out so early in her academic career that
                fucking well-known, successful scholars is how to get ahead.” He was still

                smiling.  The  same  smile  Olive  had  once  thought  kind.  Reassuring.  “You
                fucked Adam, didn’t you? We both know you’re going to fuck me for the

                same reason.”
                    She was going to vomit. She was going to vomit in this room, after all,

                and it had nothing to do with her talk. “You are disgusting.”
                    “Am I?” He shrugged, unperturbed. “That makes two of us. You used
                Adam to get to me and to my lab. To this conference, too.”

                    “I didn’t. I didn’t even know Adam when I submitted—”
                    “Oh,  please.  You’re  telling  me  you  thought  your  pitiful  abstract  was

                selected  for  a  talk  because  of  its  quality  and  scientific  importance?”  He
                made a disbelieving face. “Someone here has a very high opinion of herself,

                considering  that  her  research  is  useless  and  derivative  and  that  she  can
                barely put together two words without stuttering like an idiot.”

                    She  froze.  Her  stomach  sank  and  twisted,  her  feet  cemented  to  the
                ground. “It’s not true,” she whispered.
                    “No? You think it’s not true that scientists in the field want to impress

                the great Adam Carlsen enough to kiss the ass of whoever he’s fucking at
                the moment? I certainly did when I told his very mediocre girlfriend that

                she could come work for me. But maybe you’re right,” he said, all mocking
                affability. “Maybe you know STEM academia better than I do.”

                    “I’m going to tell Adam about this. I’m going to—”
                    “By all means.” Tom widened his arms. “Go ahead. Be my guest. Do

                you need to borrow my phone?”
                    “No.” Her nostrils flared. A wave of icy anger swept over her. “No.” She
                turned  around  and  marched  to  the  entrance,  fighting  the  nausea  and  bile

                climbing up her throat. She was going to find Adam. She was going to find
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