When Your Name Found Mine
Chapter Twelve — All the Words We Never Said
The silence in my dorm room felt like it had weight.
Dave stood near the door, his hand still on the knob like he might need to escape at any second. I sat at my desk, staring at the closed laptop, the video replaying in my head no matter how hard I tried to block it out.
"I need you to start talking," I said finally, my voice low.
He exhaled slowly, letting go of the doorknob. "Alright. You deserve the whole story."
---
He took a step closer, then another, until he was standing right in front of me.
"Maya and I were friends," he began. "And for a while, I thought it might be more. But I realized I didn't feel the way she wanted me to feel. When I told her… she didn't take it well. She kept finding excuses to talk to me — group projects, coffee, even just bumping into me on campus."
He ran a hand through his hair. "The café photo? That was her asking for advice about transferring to another school. The lounge video? She came to me upset after failing a midterm. She put her hand on my knee for like two seconds — and that's probably the exact two seconds someone filmed."
---
I wanted to believe him. I really did. But there was still a knot in my stomach.
"Why didn't you just… step back?" I asked.
"I tried. But every time I pulled away, she'd find some way to pull me back in. And honestly? I didn't want to be cruel. I thought if I was just patient, she'd move on."
He looked at me, his voice soft. "But then I met you. And suddenly it wasn't just about avoiding hurting her feelings — it was about protecting you. I didn't want drama to spill over into what we had."
---
The knot loosened just a little. I could see it in his face — the regret, the way his shoulders slumped like he'd been carrying this for too long.
"She sent the photos, didn't she?" I asked.
He hesitated. "I think so. Or maybe a friend of hers. Either way… it doesn't matter. What matters is you and me."
---
Jenna poked her head in then, like she'd been listening outside the whole time.
"You might want to see this," she said, holding up her phone.
The Campus Confessions page was open — but instead of another damning post, there was an anonymous one that read:
To the couple I hurt — I'm sorry. I took things out of context to get attention. It was wrong. I hope you're happy together.
---
We didn't need a signature.
Dave let out a breath, and I realized I'd been holding mine too.
Jenna slipped out quietly, closing the door behind her.
"It's over," Dave said softly.
---
I stood and crossed the room until I was right in front of him. "It's over if we decide it is."
He looked at me like he was trying to memorize every part of my face. "Then let's decide."
And then his arms were around me, pulling me against him, his hand warm against the small of my back.
For a second, everything — the rumors, the whispers, the videos — all faded into nothing.
---
We sat on the edge of my bed, still holding hands.
"You know," he said with a half-smile, "this is not how I pictured our first semester going."
"Me neither," I admitted. "But maybe it's better. We know we can survive campus gossip. Which, according to Jenna, is harder than surviving midterms."
---
Later that week, we walked across the quad together for the first time since everything had blown up. People still looked. A few whispered. But most just moved on — because there was nothing left to feed the rumor mill.
Maya passed us once, her eyes flicking to mine before she looked away. I didn't feel anger anymore. Just… relief.
---
The semester rolled forward. We studied together in the library, shared late-night coffee runs, and slowly built something steady out of the chaos.
One evening, we ended up on the old stone bench behind the student center, the same place we'd first talked about more than just classes.
"You ever think about next year?" he asked.
"All the time," I said. "Why?"
"Because I'm thinking about how I don't want it to be just 'you and me on campus.' I want it to be… you and me. Period."
---
It was cheesy. It was exactly what I needed to hear.
I leaned in and kissed him, the kind of kiss that wasn't about proving anything to anyone — not the people walking past, not the phone cameras that might still be out there — just us.
---
On the last day of the semester, after our final exam, Dave pulled me toward the quad where the big oak tree stood.
There, hanging from one of its lower branches, was a small wooden sign painted in messy letters:
When your name found mine.
I blinked at it, my heart suddenly too full. "Did you—"
"Made it in woodshop," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's cheesy, I know. But it's ours."
I touched the letters, the rough edges catching against my fingertips. "It's perfect."
---
We sat under the oak tree until the sun went down, the air cool and smelling faintly of cut grass.
And for the first time since the whole mess began, I realized I wasn't waiting for the next problem, the next rumor, the next test of what we had.
Because we'd already been tested — and we'd passed.