You're packing your things, ready to leave the library, when you see it on the table... Again.

Tom’s diary.

You pick it up, shaking your head.

“Well, look who forgot this...” you mutter under your breath.

As you leave and make your way to the garden, Tom is sitting on a bench, a book on his lap, but he is not reading. He looks up as soon as you approach, his face lighting up.

“Guess what I found,” you say, holding up the diary.

He widens his eyes. “You’re kidding. Again? Good thing you found it, huh?"

“It was just sitting there. Kind of hard to miss,” you chuckle.

“I guess I was just distracted. Or maybe... fate wanted you to find it?” he grins.

You hand it over. His fingers brush yours, warm and casual—but not accidental. You raise an eyebrow.

“Thanks,” he says. “You seriously keep saving my life.”

“Maybe tie it to your bag next time,” you say.

He laughs, a little awkward. “Or maybe I just like knowing you’ll come looking for me.”

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says too fast. Then, quieter, “I just mean it’s nice… talking to you.”

You look at him for a moment, uncertain.

“Well... next time, maybe I’ll keep it hostage until you buy me coffee,” you say.

He grins, almost triumphant. “Deal. But if you keep it, I’ll just have to come find you.”