Arnold couldn't focus on the code. After yesterday's lunch incident, he'd spent the evening trying to work on the sharing protocols, but every comment he wrote seemed to turn into some unconscious reference to Helga. He'd had to delete an entire function called validateEmotionalBoundaries because it felt too on the nose.

"You're brooding," Gerald's voice came from the doorway. "And before you deny it, Phoebe made me come check on you."

Arnold didn't look up from his laptop. "I'm working."

"Right. That's why you've been staring at the same line of code for ten minutes." Gerald dropped into the chair Helga usually sat in. "Want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Man, we've been best friends since preschool. I watched you figure out your feelings for Helga back in high school, even though you tried to play it cool. And now?"

Arnold finally looked up. "Now what?"

"Now you're worse at hiding it than she used to be." Gerald leaned forward. "You know why? Because back then, she was a kid dealing with her first love. You're an adult who knows exactly what he wants but is hiding behind professionalism."

"It's not that simple," Arnold protested. "The app—"

"Is amazing. You two are doing great work. But don't pretend that's all this is."

Arnold ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "What am I supposed to do, Gerald? Walk into her office and tell her I can't stop thinking about how she looks when she's excited about the project? How watching her with those kids yesterday made my heart feel like it was going to explode. How every time she calls me 'Football Head,' I want to—" He stopped, face warm.

"That would be a start," Gerald said dryly.

"We have to work together. Funding meetings are coming up, testing phases, development deadlines..."

"And you're going to keep slipping up because you're trying to pretend you don't feel what everyone can see you feel."

Arnold's phone buzzed—a message from Helga: New test group tomorrow. Bringing in older kids, 12-13 range. Need to review protocols first. Your office or mine?

Gerald read the message over his shoulder. "Man, even her work-related texts sound like she's trying too hard."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Gerald stood up. "Just remember—you're not nine anymore, pretending not to notice how she feels. And she's not nine anymore, hiding behind anger. You're both adults who are terrible at maintaining 'formal interactions.'" He made air quotes around the phrase.

After Gerald left, Arnold stared at Helga's message. Finally, he typed: Your office. More professional.

The response came quickly: Right. 4 PM?

Arnold looked at his laptop screen, where the sharing protocols still needed work. At this rate, he was going to have to rename every function to remove accidentally revealing variable names like handleHiddenFeelings and processUncertainEmotions.

4 PM works; he sent back. Professionally speaking.

He could almost hear her snort of laughter at that one.

His screen lit up with rapid-fire notifications:

A private text from Gerald: "Man, you're not fooling anyone with this business partner act."

Then Phoebe, calling rather than texting: "The data analysis is ready, though I suspect you're more interested in certain variables than others."

Finally, an email from Rhonda with the subject line: "Color Psychology and Other Things You're In Denial About"

Arnold muted the chat and clicked off everyone to turn back to his code. He had six hours to make sure nothing in it revealed just how much he thought about her while writing it.

He was definitely going to have to rename that suppressStrongFeelings function.

Helga's office felt smaller than Arnold remembered from their first meeting. Maybe because this time he was hyperaware of everything—the way she'd cleared her desk of patient files, how she'd left her doctor's coat on the hook by the door, the pink bow among her degrees seemed to catch his eye no matter where he looked.

"The older kids will need different prompts," Helga was saying, her glasses sliding down her nose as she reviewed his notes. "Twelve to thirteen is when they start getting self-conscious about expressing emotions."

"Speaking from your research?" Arnold asked, then added quickly, "As a child psychologist."

She shot him a look. "Yes, Foot—Dr. Shortman." She pushed her glasses back up. "The sharing protocols need to be especially secure for this age group. They're more likely to..."

"Hide things?" The word hung between them.

"Project their feelings into creative outlets," she corrected, though her cheeks colored slightly. "The interface needs to support that while maintaining appropriate boundaries."

Appropriate boundaries. Arnold wondered if she was thinking about their lunch yesterday, too. "I adjusted the privacy settings," he said, pulling up the code on his laptop. "Each user controls their visibility levels, like you suggested."

She leaned over to look at his screen, then frowned. "Did you name this function processUnspokenFeelings?"

"That's... a placeholder," Arnold said, feeling his face warm. "For technical purposes."

"Mmhmm." She straightened, putting careful distance between them again. "And this one? hideSecretPoetry?"

"I was thinking about your research," he tried. "The therapeutic applications of..."

"Arnold." Her voice was soft but firm. "We need to talk about—"

A knock at her door saved him. "Dr. Pataki? Your four-thirty is here early."

Helga stood quickly. "Send me the updated protocols. We can discuss the... technical nomenclature another time."

Arnold gathered his things, very aware of her presence by the door. As he passed her, she said quietly, "Maybe choose less revealing variable names next time."

He turned to look at her and caught the slight smile she was trying to hide. "Whatever you say, Dr. Pataki."

In the elevator, Arnold let out a long breath. His phone already had messages waiting:

Gerald: Man, you named your functions WHAT? Phoebe: The code review was quite revealing. Rhonda: Darling, even your variables aren't maintaining professional distance.

Tomorrow, they'll test with the older kids. He'll have to sit in meetings and pretend he isn't thinking about the way she smiled when she saw his coding confessions. Then, they'll go back to maintaining appropriate professional boundaries.

But tonight, he had a lot of function names to change.