“If you do it, I’ll do it.”
“What are you talking about?”
Maya picks up a pen, holding it out in front of her like an invitation. “If you do it, I’ll do it,” she repeats.
Riley takes the pen, though immediately puts it down. “And again, what are you talking about? Do what?”
“Write your essay.”
“If I write my essay, you’ll … also write my essay?”
“Yes.” Maya nods definitively, hopping off the edge of the desk and pulling up another chair. “In a show of solidarity, I will also write your essay.”
“Peaches, you know I love you, but you don’t know anything about the effects of the civil rights movement on American journalism.”
“So? I’m going to write the essay anyway, that way I can’t distract you from yours.” Maya picks up the pen again, then thinks better of it and takes out her phone instead. “I don’t have my laptop so I’m going to write it in my Notes app.”
Riley stares at her for a moment, then just shakes her head, though she’s grinning as she pulls her laptop back toward her. “Alright then, this isn’t actually due for another week so I’m just going to do as much as I can handle.”
Maya doesn’t even look up, diligently typing away. “Shh, I’m writing an essay.”
“Oh, of course.” It takes a moment for Riley to stop smiling, but then she sighs, going back to her Google Doc. Five thousand words aren’t going to write themselves.
Later, after she’s backed up her work on a different document and hit save about seven times, Riley sits back and stretches, wincing when her shoulder pops. She should really invest in some sort of chair that has lumbar support.
Next to her, Maya is still busy tapping away.
“Hey, how’s your essay going?”
Her girlfriend glances up, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. “Okay, don’t kill me, but I wrote one sentence, and then played Piffle for two hours.”
Riley huffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes even as she pulls Maya’s chair closer so she can rest her head on the other girl’s shoulder. “What did you write?”
“‘I don’t know anything about the effects of the civil rights movement on American journalism, sorry.’“
“You’re a dork.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
Maya hums happily. “I love you, too.”
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