Olivia didn't like emotions very much.

Because, unlike equations, experiments, and graphs, emotions were something she couldn't predict.

It started small. A smile across the centrifuge. A shared laugh over mislabeled samples. Olivia tried not to notice. Really. But the data was undeniable: every time you were in the room, her pulse ticked higher. Her workflow slowed by approximately 14%. Once, she nearly miscalculated an assay concentration.

There had to be a rational explanation.

Pheromones, maybe. Or some sort of stress-induced dopamine spike. Lack of sleep, definitely. Olivia had three active experiments, a grant proposal due next week, and zero time to be emotionally compromised. And yet, every morning, her first thought was whether you had brought that stupid little insulated mug with the badly drawn cat again.

And horrifically, she felt like you were starting to notice. The way your eyes followed her, how your hand lingered when you passed her a pipette. These were all signs that she had blown her cover. Olivia was sure of it.

The two of you were in the lab again, watching the centrifuge turn for a few seconds to make sure it was all well equilibrated. Vaguely, she remember the other experiment that she wanted to talk to you about. The little issue that would slow your work.

"I'm experiencing a variable--" her cheeks suddenly went red as she realised what it sounded like. No, this was not the time for a love confession. Serious work time. "--In-in the experiment. The genetic sequencing of the spider came back different after we put it through the collider."