pressure

"You want to talk about me?" Amber asked, raising her eyebrows. "Okay, let’s talk about me. I want you to finish this assignment. I want you to get a good grade on it. I think you should get to work,” she said, pushing the paper in front of him. “Well, I meant more like an answer to the question, but congratulations on knowing today’s date.”

Mason huffed, crossing his arms against his chest as he rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was continue working and studying. "That's not exactly what I had in mind, y'know," he informed her, flashing her a playful glare, "I thought we'd talk about your day, what you're up to lately, maybe if you're free this weekend? That sort of thing, Dixon. None of this school mumbo jumbo. But hey, it's a good thing you care so much about my grade! One of us has to."

Amber rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so boring if you were actually on the right page,” she replied, flipping the pages in his textbook to the correct one. “Mason, we’ve only been here for twenty minutes,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “You can take a break when you’ve done more than write your name on the paper.”

Mason groaned, forcing himself to raise his head off the table and hide his face in his palms as he did so. Peaking through the gaps between his fingers, he said, "You know what's not boring? You. Let's talk about you. I'd rather do that than study. You should tell me about your day or something." A playful smile tugged at his lips as he glanced down at his paper. "I have the date written, too, Dixon," he pointed at the top left corner, "Gosh, give me some credit!"