When Your Name Found Mine
Chapter Seven — The Letter Between Us
The rain hadn't stopped. It drummed against my window all afternoon, steady and insistent, like it was trying to push me toward a decision I'd been avoiding.
I sat at my desk, staring at the letter. My fingers traced the edge of the envelope. I'd read it so many times I could recite it from memory, every word etched into me now.
I couldn't pretend anymore. I knew Dave had written it.
And if I didn't ask him why, the question would keep eating at me.
---
By the time I made it to the library, night had settled over campus. The tall glass windows glowed against the dark, and inside, everything smelled faintly of paper and rain.
Dave was there. Alone, at a table near the corner, his notebook open in front of him. His hair was slightly damp, curling at the ends.
When he saw me, his eyes lit up — but something in them flickered, like he was weighing what to say.
I didn't give him the chance. I walked straight to his table.
"Hey," he said, closing the notebook. "Braving the weather again?"
I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. "We need to talk."
That got his attention. His smile faded, and he leaned forward slightly. "About what?"
I pulled the envelope from my bag and set it on the table between us.
The way his gaze fixed on it told me everything I needed to know.
---
"You wrote it," I said quietly.
He didn't deny it. His jaw tightened, and after a long pause, he nodded once.
"I did."
"Why?" The word came out sharper than I'd intended.
He looked down at his hands. "Because… I didn't know how else to say it. I've been wanting to tell you for weeks, but every time I tried, it didn't come out right."
I stared at him. "So you wrote a letter to… what? Test me? See if I'd figure it out?"
"No." His eyes finally met mine, and there was no teasing in them now. "I wrote it because I wanted you to read it without me standing there, waiting for a reaction. I wanted you to take your time with it. To feel it."
The library seemed to grow quieter around us.
I leaned back in my chair, my pulse racing. "And what exactly did you want me to feel?"
He hesitated, then reached across the table, his fingers brushing the edge of the letter. "The truth. That I like you. More than I should, maybe. That I notice the way you look when you're trying not to laugh in class. The way you hold your coffee like it's the only thing keeping you awake. The way you…" He stopped himself, a small, self-conscious smile tugging at his lips. "The way you make me want to say things I didn't think I'd ever say to anyone."
---
I swallowed, unsure if it was the words or the way he was looking at me that made my chest feel too tight.
"You could've just told me," I said softly.
"I thought about it," he admitted. "But I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You barely knew me. A letter felt… safer."
I let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "For who? You or me?"
His smile grew faint. "Both."
---
We sat there for a moment, the rain still pattering against the windows. I realized my hands were trembling slightly under the table.
"I kept it," I admitted. "The letter."
"I hoped you would."
"I didn't know why at first," I said, looking down at it. "But I think… I didn't want to lose it. Like if I threw it away, I'd be throwing away something important."
His gaze softened. "Evelyn…"
He didn't say anything else — he didn't have to.
---
I don't know who moved first, but suddenly we weren't just sitting across from each other anymore. He'd come around the table, kneeling so we were at eye level. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
"I'm not going to pretend I didn't hope you'd figure it out," he said, voice low. "And I'm not going to pretend I don't want to know what you think. Right now. About me."
I should have answered. I should have put it into words. But the truth was, I didn't have words for it — not the rush in my chest, not the heat in my cheeks, not the way the library and the rain and the world seemed to fall away until there was only him.
So instead, I leaned forward.
He froze for half a second, just long enough for me to catch the way his breath hitched, and then he closed the space between us.
---
The kiss was gentle at first — a question more than an answer. But when I didn't pull away, his hand slid lightly to the side of my face, and the question became something warmer, something that made my fingers curl in the fabric of his sweater.
When we broke apart, I realized my hands were shaking for a different reason now.
"That… was an answer," he said, smiling faintly.
I managed a breathless laugh. "Good. Because I'm terrible at speeches."
---
We stayed there longer than we probably should have, talking in low voices about everything and nothing — the fair, classes, the stupid weather. And when we finally left the library, the rain had slowed to a soft drizzle, the kind that felt more like a secret than a storm.
As we walked back toward the dorms, our shoulders brushed more than once.
When we reached my building, he stopped. "I know that was a lot," he said, looking almost shy now. "But I meant every word in that letter. And every word tonight."
"I know," I said. "And I'm glad you wrote it."
He smiled, and for a moment, it felt like something had shifted in the air between us — like the campus, the rain, and the whole messy world were holding their breath for whatever came next.