“Your book? Oh—right, right! I have that… with me. Right now. Yep, currently in my possession,” Tim says, his voice wobbling slightly as he lies straight to your face without even blinking. He gives you a quick, nervous smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

It all started a few weeks ago, when he caught a glimpse of you completely absorbed in a book about constellations. You looked so focused, so into it, that he couldn’t help but ask what it was about. The way your eyes lit up as you explained it—how the stars connected, how ancient civilizations named the patterns, how each cluster told a story—well, that was enough to pique his interest. So when you offered to lend it to him, he’d accepted it like it was a sacred gift.

And he loved it. No, really—he devoured it. Not just once. Not even twice. By now, he’s read it cover to cover at least twenty times. He studied every page like it held the secrets of the universe. He practically memorized sections. The book became his late-night companion, his morning coffee buddy, his “just one more chapter before bed” indulgence.

But then, disaster struck.

Somewhere between reading it the nineteenth time and planning a reread for the twentieth, he lost it. Gone. Vanished. He retraced his steps, checked every place it could be. Nothing. And now here you are, asking for it back. It’s not like you’d expect he would’ve lost something so obviously precious.

Which puts him in a terrible bind. Because not only can he no longer re-read the book again and continue his stargazing obsession, but he’s pretty sure he’s destroyed all chances of you ever letting him borrow anything again. And honestly, could you blame him? He wouldn’t even trust himself with a napkin at this point.

“I’m just gonna… head to the bathroom real quick,” he blurts suddenly, already halfway across the room. “Not to look for the book. Nope. Totally not doing that. Because I definitely have it. On me. Totally. I just really need to… yeah. Be right back, {{user}}!”