"Also, sorry, I'm late, I was having a hot sex," Mason starts as he sits down on the grass, enjoying the shade from the tree. 

"Ew, I definitely did not need to know that," Daphne grimaces while Mason just laughs it off. "Sure you did, we're studying sexual psychology, after all."

It annoys Daphne that he has such a misunderstanding of the subject, commenting, like, sexual psychology merely studies about sex. She is reminded of the people that think psychology students only study about mental health and they all graduate to become psychologists. Daphne looks away, reflecting, he's just joking, he's just joking.. What a dumb joke. 

An awkward silence falls upon them as Mason can be heard making rustling noise by taking off his leather jacket and hoodie, revealing the t-shirt he is wearing underneath. She wonders if he does not sweat at all with all those layers of clothing. Daphne soon realizes that she never got to look at him, like, really look at him. She realizes that, first and foremost, he is a jerk. A hot jerk. Look at his chiseled jaw, his curly hair, funny butt chin, and muscles. He's the template. He's a blueprint for all hot fuckboys, for one to become a fuckboy, they do not need to be hot, but Mason is a hot one. Daphne has only seen him with Mia, though. Committed fuckboy, do they exist? Is he even one?

Mason is smart, he doesn't wanna be tied down but still gets sex, so an FWB, Daphne muses, no STD just S. I mean that's not only limited to Mason, I guess... 

Surprisingly, Mason does not realize Daphne is staring, there is some distance between them that Daphne is out from his line of vision, not even his peripheral, he is also hunching down, squinting his eyes to work on his laptop. Daphne wants to laugh at his posture, she never thought that someone would have a worse spine than hers. She fails to stifle her laugh, Mason snaps his neck towards Daphne, "what?"

Pursing her lips, Daphne answers, "nothing." She goes back to working on the presentation for next sexual psychology class. Mason narrows his eyes on Daphne in suspicion, he moves closer, too close for Daphne's comfort, she starts to sweat from the sudden close proximity, damn you social anxiety! or sexual frustration! Daphne curses in her head. 

"What?"

"I just want to see what you're working on."

"I'm working on the same thing you're working on."

Mason stares at Daphne's face for what it seems to be at least 1 hour when in reality he bores his eyes in hers for 10 seconds and watches her expression turns from neutral to a slowly distressed one. Mason smirks, "I know you have a crush on me, Daphne, just admit it."

"No! What the heck?"

Crossing his arms, Mason falls back to his previous position, his expression not believing Daphne's answer, "well, I don't believe you."

"I don't care if you believe me or not," Daphne bites, tries to maintain eye contact to show how sure she is with her statement, but she falters and breaks it first to turn back to her laptop. There is tingling in her body from what she thinks is a mixed of anxiety and anger. She hopes that the deodorant she wears never gets washed off by her sweat and make her stinky. She adjusts her sitting position to not show that her legs are slightly trembling.

Thankfully, Mason is not exactly the best at reading others' body language, when he is able to read Daphne, it is because she is just that, readable. He can sort of tell what she is thinking by observing the changes in her features, or when she gulps, as much as she tries to not do it, a lot of times, especially when she is with Mason, she cannot help it. Mason laughs, much to Daphne's dismay. Her cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

Ten minutes later and they are done with the presentation, Daphne exhales, releasing the tension of doing an assignment so that she can relax, "done." She looks over to Mason who does not seem to feel the same tension as she did. She picks up the lunch box she has brought and eat the pancakes. She changes her mind about sharing Mason her pancakes because first of all, he was late. Second of all, he was being a jerk.

Mason checks his phone when the both of them are not getting up to leave, Daphne is already focused on a different thing entirely after she finishes her pancakes, Mason asks, "aren't you leaving?" Daphne realizes he has not leave yet, "oh, hey, you're still here, I thought you left already."

Mason watches in amusement, she seems to be focused on something that is not academically related. Upon further inspection, he sees the title of the page she is scribbling on, 'budget planner'. Daphne pulls back her iPad, "don't peek! Just go home already!"

Chuckling, Mason backs away. He is still not leaving. He does not know what it is that makes him not wanting to leave. Maybe it is the unknown force of not wanting to listen to what she says. Maybe it is because he is still curious, "hey, what is that?"

"Nunya," Daphne answers. Mason tilts his head, "nunya?"

"Nunya buzinezz," she flatly says. Mason holds back a laughter, he is even more amused. "You're annoying, you know that? I saw what it is, a 'budget planner'."

For a few more seconds, Daphne still ignores him, silently hoping for him to just leave her alone. Mason sighs and gets up. When he does it, Daphne feels a weight has been lifted off her chest. She did not want to, but she looks up, anyway. Turns out he is looking at her too, they both stare at each other for a little bit before he holds up his hand for a wave and bids her goodbye, "see ya." Daphne only hums.

A little bit of guilt starts to creep its way up to her chest, she starts to realize that she feels so much when Mason is around. The feelings are never good. They are either anxiety, annoyance, anger, or guilt. Anxiety because he is intimidating; annoyance because, well, he is annoying; anger because, well..., he is anger inducing; and guilt because every time he riles her up and makes her blood boil, she responds in what she considers to such an immature way, and it may hurt his feelings. Frowning at him, clicking her tongue, angry at him, and many more to show her resentment towards him. They are all pretty valid at surface level considering he is the one who starts his antics, but she wishes that she could control what she feels more and respond to him in better ways that maybe he will start to think that she is not worth the bother. 

She begins to wrap up her note-taking in her budget planner, finishing moving what she has bought yesterday on a receipt that she took a picture of, to her 'monthly expenses' page. She sees if anything she has bought with her money ever go out of her budget. While she does this, she feels a tapping on her shoulder, she rapidly turns her head back to the person behind her. It's Mason.

"Gosh, you scared me, what are you still doing here?"

"What? You don't like my company? I'm pretty sure you have blushed, like, 100 times already whenever I talk to you, you do have a crush on me, I know," Mason laughs. His cheery face turns into smirk while watching her face shapes into something he is becoming very familiar with, lately. Blushing in annoyance. He is starting to grow to like it.

"Here," he holds out an ice cream that is starting to melt, "for you."

With the ice cream he offered to Daphne still in his hand, he sits down next to her, "come on, take it. You don't owe me anything, just take it." Daphne still hesitates, gosh, do I want that ice cream, though. 

Impatiently, Mason shoves the ice cream to Daphne's lips, just enough for it to smear around her lips, but not make a whole mess on her face, Daphne gasps, "oh my god! What would you do that!?"

"Now, the ice cream is yours, come on, just take it!" Daphne finally yields and takes the ice cream. She only eats it when Mason is turned away from looking at her. Soon enough, she finishes the ice cream, her fingers feels sticky from the ice cream that had melted and dripped down onto her hand. She curses underneath her breath and searches for tissues in her bag, when Mason hands her one. She eyes him in suspicion, "Mason, why are you so nice all of a sudden? What do you want from me?"

Kicking his head back from laughter, Mason grins sheepishly, "you caught me."

May it only be her imagination but he seems like he is hesitating about something while licking his own ice cream. He is looking away and seems to be in a trance. Who knows what he's thinking in that brain of his which if you knocked on it, it would sound hollow. And if you shook it, it would sound like there would be three things juggling inside it, they are words: horny, alcoholism, and annoying. He bites his lips before he looks at Daphne who has been observing his face, perhaps, trying to psychoanalyze him.

"Listen, I have a proposition," Mason starts, smiling innocently, "but I think you might not like it at first, but!" Mason pauses between his words, "..but you will be paid handsomely. With money, no doubt, and also my handsome face, of course."

"What are you talking about?"

"Listen, all it takes for me to offer it to you is if you say 'yes'. Are you interested?"

Daphne shakes her head no. Mason groans, "oh my god, please just say yes! I promise you don't have to agree right away!"

It has been at least five minutes of Mason trying to convince Daphne about his so-called proposal. Daphne does not want to anything that could possibly be a hassle in the long run, even if Mason is offering a very generous offer by paying her actual money. Daphne is getting more and more bored as this thing goes on, she has no idea how to make him give up, so, she says, "fine, what is it."

Clenching his fist in victory, his usual annoying expression comes back, and with a sultry voice and a growing trepidation on Daphne's face, he says, "I'm proposing to be your..." 

"...sugar daddy."