The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

Over the last week, she’d tackled all of them but the last two. She didn’t know how to tackle those. She could listen to awful music as she worked, wear perfume, take kitchen shears to the French seams of her shirts, and destroy her routines, but she couldn’t suddenly talk to people with ease, and she couldn’t not be obsessed with something she loved.

Her mind spun around and around in circles, trying to figure out how to solve the problem. While she wasn’t great at talking, she had made marked improvement over the years. If she focused and watched what she said, she was able to interact with people without making them uncomfortable—mostly. That left obsession.

How did one not obsess over something wonderful? How did one like something a reasonable amount? If she was being realistic with herself, she had to admit this simply wasn’t a possibility for her. She couldn’t like something halfway. She’d tried that with Michael and failed miserably. Did that mean she had to abstain completely from things she enjoyed?

She supposed she could give up piano, martial arts movies, and Asian dramas. But what about her greatest passion?

Econometrics?

Giving that up would be the biggest sign of her commitment. Her work was such a pivotal part of her life that if she resigned, everything would change. She really would be a new person.

She set her glasses on her desk and covered her eyes with her palm, giving up on the data on the screen. Her mind was simply too overwrought to focus. If she couldn’t do her work, maybe she should resign.

Maybe she should devote herself to something with more concrete benefits to society. Like the medical field. She could be a doctor if she tried hard enough. She didn’t love physiology and chemistry, but what did that matter? Most doctors probably focused on the end results of their labor instead of the daily reality of their work. Truth be told, it was better if the work bored her. She wouldn’t obsess over it then.

That was it. She had to quit her job.

With stiff fingers and feverish determination, she began drafting a letter of resignation to her boss.

Dear Albert,

Thank you for the past five years. Being a part of your team was an invaluable experience to me. I cherished the opportunity not only to study fascinating, real market data but to effect measurable change in the economy through the application of econometric principles. However, I must leave because

Because what? Albert would not understand any of the reasoning filling her brain right now. He was an economist. All he cared ab

out was economics.

If she told him she was autistic, he wouldn’t care. It didn’t impact her effectiveness as an econometrician in a negative way. If anything, her obsessive tendency to hyperfocus for long periods of time, her love of routines and patterns, and her extremely logical mind that couldn’t comprehend casual conversation made her a stronger econometrician.

It was a shame those same things made her unlovable.

A discreet knocking sounded against the door, and she checked the clock before turning around to see Janie walk into her office. Right on schedule. She hurried to minimize the letter of resignation and stood up to face her internship candidate.

Janie smiled, and though her lips trembled with nervousness, the action still reminded Stella so much of Michael that her heart squeezed.

Belatedly, she shook Janie’s hand. “I’m so glad to see you. Please, have a seat.”

Janie brushed her hands over her black skirt suit and sat. She tapped her toes for several seconds before she crossed her ankles. “Good to see you, too, Stella.”

In the awkward silence that ensued, Stella absently scratched her neck. The opened seams of her shirt felt like lines of ants crawling on her skin.

“How are you?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the itching.

“Me? Er, I’m fine.” Janie wore her long hair loose today, and she tucked a dark brown tendril behind her ear as she looked down at her leather portfolio on Stella’s desk. “Michael is not fine.”

Stella’s chest tightened, and the skin on her face prickled. “Oh no, why? What happened? Is your mom okay?”

“My mom is fine. Don’t worry,” Janie said, making calming gestures with her hands. “Well, she’s upset with Michael. She wants him to quit coming to the shop, but he won’t. On top of that, he’s been intolerably grouchy lately, and he’s working nonstop. It’s like he’s possessed. We’re all worried and annoyed.”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why he should be unhappy.” He couldn’t possibly be unhappy for the same reason she was. Hopelessness mixed with the abrasion of open seams on her skin, making her want to tear her shirt off and scream.

“It’s you. He misses you.”

She shook her head. That was impossible. Hearing her deepest desire said out loud filled her with bitterness that verged on anger. “How about we get this interview started?” She gathered up the case study documents she’d prepared and handed them to Janie.

Instead of looking at them, Janie set the papers on top of her portfolio. “Why did you two break up?”

Because they’d never really been together to start with. Because she’d only ever been a charity case to him.