Always Not Enough

The bouquet was beautiful.

Delicate lilies and deep red roses wrapped in cream paper, tied with a soft golden ribbon. They sat on my desk like a promise—vivid and perfect against the chaos of my half-graded assignments and paint-stained brushes.

"Cedric strikes again," my coworker Lisa teased as she passed by the classroom door.

I smiled, my fingers brushing over the soft petals. "He's persistent, I'll give him that."

Lisa poked her head in, her eyes narrowing as she inspected the flowers. "Persistent? Girl, if my boyfriend sent me flowers this gorgeous during lunch, I'd call that winning."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Yeah, well, I'm keeping him around for a reason."

Lisa wiggled her eyebrows. "You'd better. Guys like that don't grow on trees."

She disappeared down the hall before I could respond, leaving me alone with the scent of fresh blooms and a warmth spreading across my chest.

Cedric really was one of a kind.

The bouquet wasn't the only surprise.

Ten minutes later, Cedric himself showed up at my door, his ever-polished appearance earning a few appreciative glances from the students lingering in the hallway.

"Miss Acostia," he said, knocking playfully before stepping inside. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"You're not," I said, smiling as he walked toward me.

He held up a brown paper bag. "I figured you might need actual food to go with those flowers."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you calling my granola bar lunch inadequate?"

"Absolutely," he said with a grin, setting the bag on my desk.

It wasn't until I opened it that I realized he'd gone to my favorite deli.

"Cedric," I said softly, shaking my head. "You didn't have to—"

"Stop," he interrupted, leaning casually against the desk. "Let me spoil you a little, Jove. It makes me happy."

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to my cheek. "And yet, you still put up with me."

I looked up at him, unable to stop the warmth in my chest from spreading further. Cedric had this way of making everything feel simple, easy. Like the rest of the world didn't matter when he was around.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"For what?"

"For this. For being... you."

His smile softened, his hazel eyes searching mine for a moment before he straightened. "Alright, enough mushy stuff. Eat your lunch before your students stage a protest about their underfed art teacher."

I laughed as he grabbed his coat, pulling it back on with practiced ease.

"I'll see you later tonight?" he asked, pausing by the door.

"Of course."

With one last smile, he was gone, leaving the scent of lilies and the weight of quiet in his wake.

It was during my free period that I heard his voice.

Cedric's.

It drifted faintly from the hallway, along with the familiar hum of another voice—a lower, rougher one that made my heart drop before I could even process why.

I stepped out of my classroom just in time to catch Cedric and Malyen standing near the lockers.

Cedric was holding the door for someone and clearly about to leave, but the two men were talking, their postures both casual and awkwardly tense.

My breath caught in my throat.

"Malyen Raynes," Cedric said with polite curiosity, gesturing lightly toward him. "My niece is obsessed with your music. You've got quite the talent."

Malyen nodded, his blue eyes fixed on Cedric. "Thanks. You, uh, work here?"

Cedric laughed lightly, shaking his head. "No, no. I'm just here visiting my girlfriend, Miss Acostia."

The words landed like a punch, though I wasn't sure for whom. Cedric said them so casually, but Malyen stiffened almost imperceptibly, his expression unreadable.

Girlfriend.

Malyen's gaze flickered for a fraction of a second—just long enough for me to recognize the storm brewing behind his eyes. But he recovered quickly, his voice steady as he replied. "She's a good teacher. Ellie's always saying how much she loves her classes."

"That's Jove," Cedric said warmly. "She has a way of making people feel inspired. I'm lucky to have her."

Another blow.

Malyen didn't flinch this time, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the slight clench of his hands at his sides.

"Yeah," Malyen said quietly. "She's special."

Their conversation ended after a few more pleasantries, Cedric tipping his head toward Malyen before walking toward the parking lot.

I didn't move, staying rooted in place as Malyen turned toward my classroom.

He saw me instantly, his eyes locking onto mine like a predator spotting its prey.

I was watering the flowers by the windowsill when he stepped into the room. The sun was pouring in, turning the space golden, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I wondered if that glow made me look untouchable.

Because that's what I needed to be right now. Untouchable.

My heart was pounding.

The second his knuckles rapped on the doorframe, something in me froze. I turned slowly, already knowing who it was.

And there he was. Malyen Grayson.

His six-foot frame leaned casually against the doorframe, though the tension in his jaw betrayed how un-casual he actually felt. His sharp features, shadowed by the golden sunlight pouring into the room, made him look every bit the tortured artist he was known to be. But it wasn't his fame or his reputation that made me falter."Mr. Grayson," I replied, turning to face him.

His lips twitched—not quite a smile, not quite anything at all.

"You're hard to track down," he said, stepping further into the room.

"I wasn't aware I was being tracked," I said lightly, trying to maintain the calm, composed air of a teacher addressing a visitor.

It was his eyes. Those striking blue-green irises that had always seen more of me than I ever wanted anyone to.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice low but commanding.

I swallowed hard, clutching the watering can in my hands as if it could somehow anchor me. "Unless it's about Ellie, I don't think there's anything to talk about," I said, keeping my tone even.

His jaw tightened. "Jupe—"

"Don't," I interrupted, the nickname hitting me like a blow. "Don't call me that."

His eyes softened, but his stare didn't waver. "We need to talk," he repeated, this time almost pleading.

I fought against the battle raging inside me—the part of me that wanted to keep him at arm's length and the part of me that still ached for him after all these years.

"Close the door," I said finally, my voice quiet but firm.

His brow furrowed, like he hadn't expected me to agree, but he stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft click.

I turned away from him, setting the watering can on the windowsill and grabbing the rag from my desk. "Start talking," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Why did you leave?" he asked, cutting straight to the heart of it.

My grip on the rag tightened, the fabric bunching in my fist. "We're not doing this," I said, shaking my head.

"Why didn't you say goodbye?" he pressed, his voice rising slightly.

I started wiping down the desk, the rag moving in quick, aggressive circles. "I don't owe you an explanation, Mr. Raynes."

He flinched at the formality, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Stop calling me that."

I ignored him, my focus locked on the desk as if cleaning it would somehow make him disappear.

"Where did you go?" he asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense.

"Does it matter?" I shot back, finally looking at him. "I went where I needed to go. Where I could breathe again."

He stepped closer, the space between us shrinking. "You didn't even tell me. You just left. Do you know what that did to me?"

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head as I returned to wiping down the desk. "What it did to you? That's rich."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I slammed the rag onto the desk, my chest heaving as I turned to face him. "It means you chose the bottle over everything, Malyen. Over me. Over yourself."

His eyes burned with something I couldn't quite name—anger, guilt, pain. Maybe all three. "You know damn well it was more than friendship between us," he said, his voice raw.

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, all I could do was stare at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said finally, my voice faltering.

He stepped closer, his tall frame towering over mine. "Yes, you do."

I backed up, the edge of the desk digging into my hips as I struggled to maintain my composure. "I have Cedric. I'm happy. You have your women, your... whatever it is you've been doing to fill your bed."

He stiffened at that, his jaw clenching. "You think any of them mattered?"

"I don't know," I snapped, tears burning in the corners of my eyes. "Did they? Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you didn't waste any time replacing me!"

His face twisted in pain, and for a moment, I thought he might actually walk away. But instead, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I didn't replace you," he said, his tone heavy with something that sounded like desperation.

I shook my head, the dam inside me starting to crack.

"You don't even remember, do you?" I said, my voice trembling.

He froze, confusion flashing across his face. "What are you talking about?"

My chest tightened, the tears now burning my eyes in earnest. "You don't remember the night everything fell apart. The night that ruined everything."

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The silence stretched, and I could see it in his eyes—he didn't know. He didn't remember.

The dam broke.

"You left me!" I shouted, the words tearing from my throat. "You left me alone! You pushed me away! How could you do that?!"

His expression shattered, his blue-green eyes glistening as he closed the remaining distance between us.

"Jupe," he said softly, his hands reaching for me.

"Don't touch me," I said, my voice trembling as I backed up further.

"Jupiter," he whispered, his voice breaking as his hands hovered near my waist.

I shook my head, but he didn't stop. He didn't touch me, but his presence alone was enough to set my skin on fire.

"Don't," I said again, my voice barely a whisper as my back hit the wall.

He was so close now, his broad frame blocking out everything else. My nails dug into my palms as I struggled to keep my breathing steady.

"You're the only person who's ever made me feel like I could be something better," he said quietly, his forehead lowering until it rested against mine.

"Ma-," I started, but my voice cracked, his name catching on my lips.

He closed his eyes, his breath warm against my face. "Say my name," he whispered.

I froze, my heart pounding so loudly I thought it might burst.

"Please," he said, his voice breaking. "Just say my name."

For what felt like an eternity, I stayed silent, the war inside me raging louder than ever.

And then, finally, the dam broke.

"Malyen," I whispered, his name slipping past my lips like a confession.

His eyes snapped open, and for a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he leaned in, his lips so close to mine that I could feel his breath. But before he could close the distance, I pushed him away, tears streaming down my face as I shook my head.

"No," I said firmly, my voice trembling.

"Jupe—"

"No," I repeated, turning away from him as I struggled to catch my breath.

For a moment, he stayed frozen, his pain etched into every line of his face. But then he nodded, stepping back.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. "I'll prove it to you. I'll prove that you can trust me again."

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

He hesitated for a moment longer before turning and walking out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

I collapsed against the desk, my sobs finally breaking free as I buried my face in my hands.

"Miss Acostia?"

I looked up sharply, my vision blurred with tears. Ellie stood in the doorway, her expression wide-eyed and hesitant.

"I—I was just..." she trailed off, glancing at the now-empty room before looking back at me.

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. But then she walked over, wrapping her arms around me in a hug that felt like it might just hold me together.

"I've got you," she said softly, echoing the words her brother used to say.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself be held.