The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

Stella busied herself digging through her file drawer as her eyes glassed over. After several precarious moments of furious blinking, the danger of tears passed. She swallowed, cleared her throat, and said, “That’s not relevant for this interview. I’ll give you five minutes to read the case study and then we can talk about it.”

“I think you two need to talk.”

“We had a lengthy talk.” One Stella didn’t want to go through again. If she heard him say she wasn’t enough again, she’d lose it.

“Well,” Janie said. “Being apart clearly isn’t working for either of you. You need to talk again.”

Stella rubbed her temple, caught a concentrated whiff of the perfume she’d sprayed on her wrist, and felt her lunch crawl up her throat. She yanked her hand away from her face and breathed through her mouth. “I can’t.”

“Come on, Stella. I know he probably screwed up somehow, but give him another chance. He’s crazy about you.”

“It wasn’t Michael who screwed up. It was me.” She’d screwed up by being herself.

“I have a hard time believing that. Michael is really bad at relationships. He has issues.”

That gave Stella pause. She was the one with the issues. Wasn’t she? “What kind of issues?”

“Are you kidding me? He hasn’t told you this stuff?” Janie looked up at the ceiling, muttering to herself before she said, “My dad made him feel like crap for turning down all the engineering schools he got into. He said Michael would amount to nothing, said he’d be poor and he’d have to earn a living off his pretty face because he was good for nothing else. He cut Michael off and made him pay for his fashion degree himself. Michael is super talented, and he acts confident. But you’re the first girl he’s dated who is actually good enough for him.”

After Stella absorbed that information and set it aside for later consideration, she forced her lips into a smile. “That’s a really nice thing to say. I appreciate it.”

“Oh my God, you, too? Clearly, you guys are made for each other. Well, my reason for coming here was an entire flop, then. I’ll head out.” Janie prepared to get up.

“You don’t want to interview?”

Janie tucked her hair behind her ear again. “Isn’t it nepotism since we know each other?”

Stella smiled. “You’ll be speaking with six of us, and the decision to hire you has to be unanimous. I think that should eliminate your concerns regarding fairness. Also, even if we don’t hire you, I think you’ll learn something from the interviewing process. There are some really brilliant people here. Take some time to read the case study, won’t you?”

“All right.” Janie hunkered down over the papers, reading with an intent expression that reminded Stella very much of Michael.

As the interview progressed, Janie nailed question after question, even displaying unique, out-of-the-box thinking that would aid her in the future. Though she’d stumbled during her freshman year, it was clear she’d brushed herself off and hit the ground running.

“One last question,” Stella said. “Tell me why you chose to pursue a career in economics and math as opposed to other fields.”

Janie’s eyes sparked as she leaned forward. “That’s easy. Math is the single most elegant thing in the universe, and economics is what drives the human world. If you want to understand people in a sophisticated manner, I believe economics is the way.”

“But why do you want to understand people better? You have a large family and, I assume, lots of friends.”

“I do have lots of friends and family.” Janie shrugged. “But they’re just a small subset of society, not entire markets or nations. And, frankly, they’re not that interesting. They don’t fascinate me. They don’t make the world fall away. I would die for them, but I can’t live for them. I can live for economics. It’s my calling, just like it’s yours.”

Watery-eyed and emotional for reasons she didn’t understand, Stella got up and shook Janie’s hand. “I think everyone here is going to like you quite a bit.”

Janie grinned, and Stella walked her to the next interview and wished her luck. When she returned to her office, she stared at the last, unfinished sentence in her letter of resignation: However, I must leave because

Why was she thinking of giving up her life’s calling?

Because of Michael. Because of a man.

She swiped her nails through her hair, tearing strands from the tie. There was no point in working to snare a man who didn’t love her as she was. No one benefited from that, least of all her. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t honest. It wasn’t her.

This crusade to fix herself was ending right now. She wasn’t broken. She saw and interacted with the world in a different way, but that was her. She could change her actions, change her words, change her appearance, but she couldn’t change the root of herself. At her core, she would always be autistic. People called it a disorder, but it didn’t feel like one. To her, it was simply the way she was.

She had to accept the fact that she and Michael simply didn’t fit. Sawing away at herself to force a match was pure foolishness. Quitting her job was pure foolishness, and she wasn’t going to do it. Setting her jaw, she closed the letter of resignation without saving it.

She gathered her things and prepared to leave early. She needed to get out of this ruined shirt and wash the perfume off. Her behavior of the past week disgusted her.

Yes, she was lonely. Yes, she had a broken heart. But at least she had herself.