Infinite Cashback: My Wealth Rebate System

Five minutes stretched into ten, nobody complaining, and when Nadia finally called time everyone slid their cards toward the center in a small overlapping pile.

"Random draw," Nadia said, already shuffling. "Nobody picks their own trap. That defeats the purpose."

She dealt three cards to each of them face down, and Jason flipped his first one over to find Vivian’s handwriting, looping and confident, the question itself somehow both simple and clearly built to detonate.

A study finds that doctors recommend a treatment more often when survival rates are framed positively rather than mortality rates framed negatively, even though the numbers are mathematically identical. Name the effect and explain why raw statistics alone don’t fix it.

"Framing effect," he said out loud, working through it.

"And raw statistics don’t fix it because the bias isn’t about the numbers themselves, it’s about how the numbers get processed emotionally before the logic even kicks in. You can hand someone the exact same data twice and get two different decisions depending on which version hits their gut first."

Vivian’s eyebrows went up slightly. "Okay. That’s actually right."

"You sound disappointed."

"I’m a little disappointed. I wanted you to struggle." She said it cheerfully, already reaching for his second card to see what waited there instead.

Bree, working through one of Nadia’s cards, went quiet for a long moment, tapping her pen once against the table before setting it down. "I don’t know this one."

"Good," Nadia said, entirely without sympathy. "That means it’s working. Explain your reasoning anyway. Wrong answers still teach you where the gap is."

Bree talked through her attempt slowly, methodically, and Jason found himself listening closely, the same quiet, careful cadence she’d used writing that note yesterday now applied out loud to a question she was actively failing, and somehow it still landed as more competent than half the confident answers he’d heard from other people all semester.

"Close," Nadia said when she finished. "You’re overcomplicating the mechanism. It’s simpler than that."

They kept trading, the room settling into a rhythm that felt more like a game than a study session, Vivian occasionally leaning over to peek at Jason’s cards under the thin pretense of checking his work, her shoulder pressing against his each time in a way that had stopped being subtle sometime around the second round.

"Stop looking at my answers," he said finally, not moving his card away.

"I’m not looking. I’m supervising."

"That’s not a real distinction."

"It’s a very real distinction." She leaned in closer anyway, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her against his arm, clearly testing exactly how far she could push before he reacted.

He didn’t move away. Instead he turned his head slightly, voice low enough that only she’d really catch it. "You know, if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked. Didn’t need the whole performance."

That landed exactly the way he expected it to. Vivian sat back fast, a flush creeping up her neck that she immediately tried to cover with a scoff. "I wasn’t performing anything."

"Sure you weren’t."

"I genuinely wasn’t."

"Uh huh." He went back to his cards, entirely unbothered, and across the table Bree was watching the exchange with open, delighted interest, a small smile tugging at her mouth like she’d just confirmed something she’d already suspected. Nadia, for her part, glanced up once, assessed the situation with the same brisk efficiency she applied to everything, and apparently filed Jason under a slightly different category than she had an hour ago.

They wrapped up nearly an hour later, the last of the trap cards exhausted, everyone’s understanding of the Chapter noticeably sharper for the exercise even if nobody wanted to admit how much the competitive edge of it had actually helped.

"I’ve got somewhere to be," Vivian said, already packing up fast, checking her phone. "Family thing. Can’t miss it. Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time," Nadia confirmed, already gathering her own things, standing to leave in the opposite direction from where Jason usually walked.

That left Bree, closing her book slowly, unhurried the way she did everything, and Jason found himself falling into step beside her as they left the library, the direction happening to align with his own walk home without either of them commenting on the coincidence.

"You handle pressure well," she said, once they were outside, the evening air cool against his face.

"I don’t think that’s true."

"It is. Vivian was testing you the whole session and you never once looked rattled." She glanced sideways at him, that same slow, thorough attention from yesterday. "That’s rare. Most people perform confidence. You actually have it."

"Careful. That almost sounds like a compliment."

"It was one." She said it simply, no embarrassment attached, and Jason found himself genuinely curious about her, the quiet, deliberate way she said things that other people would’ve dressed up or softened first.

"Can I ask you something," he said.

"Depends what it is."

"That note yesterday. You said you write those to everyone. Is that actually true, or was that just something you said to make it less weird."

She considered the question seriously, the same way she considered everything, taking her time before answering. "Both, kind of. I do write them a lot. But not to everyone. Just people I think are worth reading correctly the first time, before other people’s opinions of them get in the way."

"That’s a pretty specific filter."

"I’m a specific person." She glanced at him, something quietly amused in her expression. "You’re not what Vivian described, by the way. She said you were quiet and broody. You’re not really either of those things. You’re just careful about when you talk."

"Is there a difference."

"A big one. Broody people don’t have anything to say. You clearly do. You just decide when it’s worth saying." She said it plainly, like she was reading off a page rather than offering an opinion, and something about the certainty of it struck Jason as different from the way anyone else had ever described him.

They walked another block, the conversation drifting easily between the study group, the class, a professor she’d apparently had trouble with last semester, and Jason found himself asking more questions than he usually bothered with, genuinely curious about the answers rather than just making conversation.

They reached the corner where their paths apparently split, and Jason slowed, glancing at her. "This is you?"

"This is me." She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, and something in her posture shifted slightly, a small hesitation that hadn’t been there the rest of the walk.

"You’re good at this, you know," he said, holding her gaze steadily. "Reading people. But you should know, I’m reading you back just as carefully. And so far, I like what I’m finding."

Bree’s mouth opened slightly, no response arriving fast enough, a visible flush rising along her cheeks that she clearly hadn’t planned for.

"I have to go," she said abruptly, already turning, her usual unhurried calm entirely abandoned in favor of a quick, uneven exit down the side street.

"See you tomorrow," Jason called after her, mildly amused, watching her go.

She didn’t answer. Just kept walking, faster than the moment probably warranted, and Jason stood there for a second, genuinely confused, before shrugging it off and continuing on toward his own apartment.

Huh.

He turned it over as he walked.

Didn’t expect that reaction. Guess even the girl who reads everyone doesn’t love being read back.

He thought about Nadia’s brisk efficiency, Vivian’s chaotic warmth, Bree’s careful, quiet precision, three completely different people somehow occupying the same study room without any of them overlapping in personality at all.

He reached his building, let himself in, and dropped his bag by the door, still turning the afternoon over.

His phone buzzed.

Sarah: you home?

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