Always Not Enough

The rain fell in steady streams against the windows, soft and soothing, muffling the city noise below. My loft apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of my heater and the occasional scratch of my pencil against the textured paper in my lap.

I sat cross-legged in my oversized chair, the fabric worn and comfortable, angled perfectly to face the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the city. The rain blurred the twinkling lights of downtown Seattle, turning them into smudges of gold and silver against the dark sky.

My curls were tied up in a messy bun, a pencil tucked behind my ear as I hunched over my sketchpad, not even aware of what I was drawing until I pulled back to look at it.

It was a hand—a man's hand, to be exact.

Strong, with long fingers and faint scars across the knuckles. It looked almost unfinished, like the lines had spilled out of me before I even knew what I was doing.

I exhaled heavily, flipping to a fresh page, but my mind betrayed me again.

Malyen.

The sound of his voice, that low, accented tone that seemed to wrap around me like a warm scarf, echoed in my head. "Say my name, Jupe." The way he'd said it, practically begging, made my heart race just thinking about it.

My hands tightened on the pencil.

And his eyes—those stupid, gorgeous blue-green eyes that had always been my weakness. The way they'd looked at me in my classroom, full of fire and pain and something I didn't dare name.

My breath hitched as my mind replayed the way his hands had felt on my waist, the heat of his palms seeping through the fabric of my sweater, grounding me and setting me on fire all at once.

I shook my head, trying to push the memory away, but my gaze fell to the sofa beside me.

There it was—the sweater I'd worn that day.

Without thinking, I reached for it, pulling the soft fabric into my lap. My fingers brushed over the threads, and before I knew what I was doing, I lifted it to my face, inhaling.

The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon was faint now, but it was there.

And with it came the memories.

The bass reverberated through the walls, shaking the picture frames and rattling the floorboards beneath my feet. The house was packed, a mix of freshly graduated seniors and a few underclassmen who'd managed to sneak their way in. Neon lights flickered in the living room, casting a pink-and-purple glow over the sea of faces as the scent of spilled beer and cheap cologne hung heavy in the air.

The energy was electric, the kind that only came with being young and feeling invincible.

Inaya and I stood near the kitchen, leaning against the counter as we watched the chaos unfold. She had a drink in one hand and a devilish grin on her face, her other hand casually flipping her sleek, dark hair over her shoulder.

"Tell me why they always play the same five songs at these things," she said, nodding toward the speaker blasting a remixed version of some old hip-hop track.

"Because they're easy to dance to," I said, sipping my own drink.

"Yeah, but where's the creativity? The imagination? The flair?" She waved her free hand dramatically, nearly spilling her drink.

I laughed, the sound light and carefree. "We're not exactly surrounded by creative geniuses here, Inaya. Just be glad they didn't put on country music."

She wrinkled her nose. "Fair point."

I glanced around the room, my gaze drifting over the familiar faces of our classmates. Most of them were red-faced and sweaty, shouting over the music or taking selfies to immortalize the night. It was bittersweet, in a way. We'd spent four years together, but after tonight, most of us would scatter—off to college, off to work, off to chase whatever dreams we had.

It felt like the end of something.

"Jupe!"

The sound of my name cut through the noise, and I turned just in time to see Malyen weaving through the crowd, a crooked grin on his face. His dark hair was slightly messy, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows, and he looked like he'd just stepped out of a movie.

He always did.

"Where've you been?" I asked as he reached us, his accent cutting through the air like a melody.

"Talking to some guys about a gig," he said, his grin widening, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "But they were boring, so I came to find you."

Inaya raised an eyebrow, giving me a knowing look before slipping away into the crowd.

Malyen leaned against the counter beside me, his blue-green eyes scanning the room. "This place is a zoo."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I said, bumping his hip with mine.

"You good?" he asked, leaning down so I could hear him over the music.

"Better now," I said, grinning up at him.

He laughed, his arm still draped over me. "Come dance with me."

I hesitated, glancing at the living room where bodies were pressed together, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

"Come on," he said, grabbing my hand. "You're not gonna make me dance alone, are you?"

I rolled my eyes but let him pull me toward the makeshift dance floor. The music thumped louder as we squeezed our way into the crowd, the lights flashing in time with the beat.

At first, we danced like idiots, laughing and spinning each other around like we were at a middle school prom instead of a senior party. Malyen's moves were ridiculous—half-dad dancing, half-rockstar flailing—and I couldn't stop laughing.

But then the music shifted.

The bass slowed, the beat turning sensual, and the crowd around us seemed to change with it.

Malyen's hands found my hips, steadying me as we swayed together. My arms drifted up, wrapping loosely around his neck, and suddenly we were closer than we'd ever been.

The laughter faded, replaced by something heavier, something unspoken.

His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the whole world disappeared.

The scent of him—sandalwood and cinnamon—wrapped around me, familiar and intoxicating.

"Jupe," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

My heart pounded in my chest, my fingers brushing the back of his neck as the space between us disappeared. His forehead dipped toward mine, our noses brushing, and I could feel his breath warm against my lips.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as my body leaned toward his, drawn like a magnet.

This was dangerous. Stupid.

But God, it felt so right.

And then, just as his lips were about to brush mine, someone bumped into us, jarring me backward.

The moment shattered like glass, and I stumbled, laughing awkwardly to cover my embarrassment.

"Guess we should—"

"Yeah," he said quickly, his hands dropping to his sides. "Let's get another drink."

We moved apart, the tension still crackling in the air between us, and I felt the familiar pang of regret settle in my chest.

This wasn't the first time we'd come close to crossing that line.

And it wouldn't be the last.

A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.

"Jove?" Cedric's voice came through, muffled by the rain pattering against the windows.

I stood, smoothing down my graphic tee as I crossed the room to let him in.

When I opened the door, he was standing there in his usual clean-cut way, holding a brown takeout bag in one hand and a bright smile on his face. His hair was neatly styled, his hazel eyes warm but searching as they scanned my face.

"Thought you might be hungry," he said, stepping inside.

"You're the best," I said, shutting the door behind him as the smell of Thai food filled the room.

He set the bag on the counter and started unpacking containers without hesitation, like he'd done it a hundred times before.

"How was your day?" he asked casually, glancing at me as I leaned against the counter.

"Busy," I said vaguely, avoiding his gaze.

He nodded but didn't press, handing me a container of pad see ew and chopsticks before settling into one of the barstools.

We ate mostly in silence, Cedric filling the occasional gap with stories about his workday—something about a marketing pitch gone wrong and a colleague accidentally hitting "Reply All" on a chain email. I smiled and nodded at the right moments, but my mind was somewhere else.

His voice trailed off eventually, the weight of the unspoken tension settling between us. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my focus on my food, pretending not to notice.

"Jove," he said gently, setting his chopsticks down. "Can we talk?"

I froze, my stomach twisting.

"You've been... different lately," he continued, his voice calm but firm. "You're not calling or texting as much. When we're together, you seem distracted. And the other night—when we..."

His words hung in the air, unfinished but heavy. I didn't need him to say it—I knew exactly what he meant.

The night he'd kissed me, his hands warm and steady against my skin, and I'd flinched like he'd burned me.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Is something going on? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," I said quickly, my voice shaking slightly. "It's not you, Cedric. I promise."

"Then what is it?" he asked, his hazel eyes soft but insistent. "I feel like I'm losing you, Jove. And I don't even know why."

My chest tightened, the guilt rising like a wave.

"It's... complicated," I said, setting my container down.

"Then uncomplicate it for me," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

I took a deep breath, my hands gripping the edge of the counter. "There's something I haven't told you."

He straightened slightly, his brows furrowing. "Okay..."

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. But the way he was looking at me—patient, concerned, desperate for an answer—pushed me forward.

"Malyen Raynes," I said finally, the name tasting strange on my tongue. "He used to be my best friend."

Cedric's eyes narrowed slightly, the warmth in his expression cooling just a fraction.

"We grew up together," I continued, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "We were inseparable—fifteen years of friendship. And then... something happened. Something that changed everything."

"What happened?" Cedric asked, his voice steady but tinged with an edge I hadn't heard before.

I shook my head, staring down at the counter. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that it broke us. And I left. I moved to Europe to get away from him, from everything. And... that's when I met you."

The silence that followed felt deafening.

Cedric leaned back slightly, his hazel eyes searching mine. "So, let me get this straight. This guy—this Malyen—is the reason you left? The reason you..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

I nodded slowly, the guilt settling heavier on my shoulders.

"And now he's back," Cedric said, more to himself than to me.

"Yes," I said softly.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair again. "Jove, are you... are you still in love with him?"

The question hit me like a punch to the gut.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Back then... I don't know how I felt. But now... now I know I love you."

His expression softened slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing.

"You sure about that?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

I nodded, stepping closer and taking his hand. "I'm sure, Cedric. I love you. And I don't want you to doubt that."

He stared at me for a long moment before squeezing my hand gently. "Okay," he said finally, his voice steady but laced with something I couldn't quite place.

The conversation lingered between us, unresolved but momentarily at rest.

After we finished eating, Cedric pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me tightly. "I just want you to be honest with me, Jove. That's all I ask."

"I will," I said, my voice muffled against his chest.

After Cedric left, the apartment felt impossibly quiet, the rain outside softening to a faint drizzle.

I was sitting back at my window, sketchpad in hand but untouched, when a knock startled me.

Frowning, I stood and crossed the room, opening the door to find a teenage girl standing there, her dark hair damp from the rain, clinging to her pale cheeks.

"Ellie?" I said, startled.

Her brown eyes, sharp and bright, locked onto mine with an intensity that reminded me so much of Malyen it hurt. She had the same air about her—strong, observant, like she knew exactly what you were thinking before you even said it.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, stepping aside to let her in.

Ellie crossed her arms as she stepped inside, her boots leaving faint puddles on the hardwood floor. She glanced around the apartment briefly before turning her full attention back to me.

"We need to talk," she said, her tone serious and far too mature for her seventeen years. "About the other day. About my brother."

My stomach dropped.