When Your Name Found Mine
Chapter Ten — The Edge of Something
The days after that kiss felt like stepping into sunlight after a week of rain.
Dave and I didn't label anything — there was no "we're dating now" conversation — but everything was different. His hand found mine in the hallway between classes. He started saving me a seat in the library's quiet corner. He brought me coffee before early lectures, the lid scribbled with a little "E <3."
It wasn't loud or showy. It was warm. Steady.
But warmth has a way of making you forget that storms still exist.
---
Friday afternoon, the campus was buzzing. It was the weekend before midterms, but no one was studying yet — the quad was full of music from someone's portable speaker, and the dining hall line wrapped out the door.
Dave had promised to meet me after my Literature seminar so we could grab dinner off-campus.
I found him leaning against a lamppost outside the humanities building, hands in his jacket pockets, looking every bit the kind of boy you were supposed to fall for at nineteen.
"Hey," I said, smiling.
"Hey," he echoed, but something in his tone made the smile fade a little.
---
We walked toward the parking lot, the air crisp with the smell of autumn leaves.
"You okay?" I asked.
He hesitated, then glanced at me. "I need to tell you something before you hear it from someone else."
That sentence never meant anything good.
"What is it?"
He exhaled, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "Maya and I… we've been friends for a while. Before the project, before you. And last night, she told me she has feelings for me."
The words landed like a stone in my stomach.
"And what did you say?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
"I told her I'm with you. That I want you. But she didn't take it well."
---
We reached his car, but I stopped before he could unlock it.
"So, what does that mean for us?"
"It means nothing changes," he said quickly. "Unless you decide it does. I just… didn't want you to hear gossip and think I'd been hiding something."
I believed him — or at least, I wanted to. But my mind kept replaying the scene I'd seen in front of the library: her hand on his, both of them laughing like they shared a secret.
---
Dinner was quieter than usual. We tried to keep things light — he told me about his sociology professor's rant about smartphones, I told him about a kid in my seminar who thought Shakespeare was "too mainstream" — but there was an invisible thread pulling our thoughts back to Maya.
When he dropped me at my dorm, he leaned across the console, brushing a kiss against my lips. It was soft, careful, like he wasn't sure how much he was allowed to take.
---
That night, I dreamed of letters again — but this time, they weren't from him. They were from her. And every one of them started with Dear Dave.
---
Saturday afternoon, Jenna convinced me to go to the football game. "Campus royalty will be there," she teased, dragging me through the crowd.
She wasn't wrong. It felt like the entire student body had crammed into the bleachers.
Halfway through the second quarter, my eyes wandered — and landed on Dave. He was leaning against the railing near the entrance, talking to Maya.
My chest tightened.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I made my way down the steps.
---
"Hey," I said when I reached them.
Dave's face lit up in relief. "Evelyn. I was just—"
"Making weekend plans?" I cut in.
Maya's lips curved in a faint smile. "Just finishing our project notes. Relax."
I wanted to tell her I was relaxed. I wanted to tell her I trusted him. But the truth was, I wasn't sure if I trusted her.
---
Dave touched my arm. "Let's get out of here."
We ended up walking to the edge of campus, where the noise of the stadium faded into the rustle of leaves.
"I meant what I said yesterday," he told me. "I'm with you. But I can't control who talks to me, or who wants something from me."
"I know," I said, my voice softer now. "I just… I've never been the kind of girl guys choose."
His gaze was steady. "Then let me be the first to prove you wrong."
---
He stepped closer, his hands sliding into mine. "Evelyn, I don't care how many people want me. You're the one I'm choosing. Every time."
And before I could respond, his lips were on mine — not careful this time, but certain.
The kiss deepened, his thumb brushing my cheek, his other hand pulling me closer. The air between us hummed, warm despite the cool breeze.
When we finally pulled apart, my heart was racing, my head dizzy with more than just autumn air.
---
"I think," I whispered, "we might be standing on the edge of something."
He smiled, brushing his forehead against mine. "Then let's jump."