Page 32 of The Law of Attraction
But her smile faded as another question loomed in her mind, casting a shadow over the compliment he’d just paid. She turned to him again, knowing she was inviting more pain by asking it aloud. “If you think I’m so smart, why wouldn’t you give me a reference?”
His eyes slid over to her, betraying a satisfying hint of guilt before returning to the road. He shifted in his seat again. “I told you why.”
“Are you applying to the leadership program too?” It would be easier if that was really why he’d refused. Because he didn’t want the competition. She would prefer that to the alternative: that he really didn’t respect her enough to give her a reference.
He let out a light snort as he checked the driver’s side mirror. “No.”
“Why not? With your track record, you’d be a shoo-in.” It didn’t make sense that he wasn’t applying.
His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I don’t have the people skills for management.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “No shit.”
His head swiveled her way, and his mouth curved in one of his almost-smiles. “It’s just not something that interests me. I’d rather keep my head down and do my own work.”
“I guess I can understand that.” She could see the appeal in it, but couldn’t help wanting more for herself. The thought of being stuck in the same job forever made her brain feel itchy.
Adam’s job was more exciting than hers, between the travel and the constant supply of new challenges and situations—not to mention the adrenaline rush of pulling off a miracle in the face of a looming deadline—and she could see how that might be enough for him.
Olivia’s job was slightly less exciting. Even if Gavin started handing off more off-site integrations to her, she didn’t actually love unexpected crises and flying blind into a strange situation under a tight deadline. It seemed to be Adam’s forte, but Olivia was a planner who preferred structure and having multiple contingency plans ready at hand.
Plus, she actually liked working with people. Even when she didn’t necessarily like the people, she derived some enjoyment from solving the puzzle of them. More than that, she felt like she was pretty good at it.
“So you think I’m smart, just not good enough at my job to be a manager. Is that it?” She was doing it to herself now, refusing to let it go. But she couldn’t seem to stop.
Weirdly, it didn’t hurt as much as before. She could think about it and talk about it without that sour feeling in the pit of her stomach that felt like it was trying to crawl into her throat and choke her. It was a duller sort of discomfort now, like a half-healed scar. She could poke at it gently without too much pain, as long as she was careful not to press too hard.
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” Adam said.
“You did,” she admitted, which felt like a big step. “But I’ll get over it. I accept that you’re entitled to your opinion, and I did put you on the spot by asking.”
“I really didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know.”
She hadn’t quite solved the puzzle of Adam Cortinas yet, but a picture was starting to take shape. She felt like she knew him well enough by now to believe there was no malice behind his matter-of-fact criticisms. Which was exactly what he’d just said about her.
“So we’re okay?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yeah. We’re okay. I don’t agree with you, but you’re right about one thing: I’m not good at taking feedback.”
He glanced over at her, but wisely didn’t say anything. Maybe he actually was learning.
Olivia looked down at her lap and squeezed her hands until the knuckles cracked. “Have you ever heard of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria?”
“No.”
“It’s associated with ADHD. Basically it means you can have an extreme emotional reaction to even the perception of being rejected or criticized.”
She didn’t usually talk about her ADHD, which hadn’t been diagnosed until she was in college. Before that, Olivia had just thought everyone felt anxious all the time and had trouble making decisions and executing them—that it was normal to feel that way. She’d always been a good student—not as good as her sister, but good enough—so no one had ever thought to have her tested for ADHD until the stress of college had sent her into a tailspin that had almost forced her to drop out.
Adam glanced at her. “Extreme, meaning…?”
“Mood swings, depression, sometimes rage. It varies from person to person, but with me it usually manifests as anxiety.”
“So you’re extra sensitive?” The way he said it made her sound like some sort of wimp or fragile snowflake who just needed to develop a thicker skin. As if it was that easy to overcome a chemical imbalance in your brain.
“It’s more than just that,” she said, wanting him to understand. “Simple tasks that most people wouldn’t think twice about, like texting a friend, can seem insurmountable, because RSD makes you fear rejection even when it’s unlikely or completely benign.”
