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The door to the supply closet clicked shut behind you, a dull, forgettable thud that vanished beneath the buzz of fluorescent lights. Outside, second graders shrieked, offering a surreal soundtrack to your latest act of professional misconduct.
“Two minutes,” you whispered, chest tight with urgency and something sweeter. Melissa’s hand found your waist, tugging you close.
“Plenty of time,” she murmured. That voice, low, smooth always bypassed your brain and went straight for your pulse. Her lips brushed yours, light and deliberate, like she was stealing minutes from the clock itself.
It was always like this. Stolen affection wedged between dusty reams of copy paper and bulletin board scraps. Stale disinfectant. Every touch, every whisper, felt like quiet rebellion.
You kissed her. Familiar. Practiced. Necessary. And still, every time, it knocked the breath out of you. Your fingers clutched the collar of her red blazer, pulling her closer, hungry for warmth, for confirmation. For the reason you put up with all this hiding.
Then the hallway bell rang.
Melissa pulled back, slow and reluctant, her eyes soft with that look, resignation and something unsaid.
“Duty calls.”
“Yeah,” you said, already missing her.
You exited separately. Always separately. A quiet, practiced paranoia threaded through everything.
At first, the secrecy felt thrilling. Strategic. Practical. The kind of game you told yourself was necessary. Especially for Melissa, who guarded her privacy like a dragon its hoard. She locked up affection, sentiment, everything vulnerable, and only you knew the combination. That was part of the pull.
But this week? That logic was falling apart, brick by brick.
“Melissa!” Janine’s voice rang out like a fire drill in the teacher’s lounge. “I was thinking, hear me out, what if I set you up with someone?”
Melissa didn’t even glance up from her lasagna. Her fork scraped plastic like a threat. “No.”
“But you don’t even know who it is yet! He’s perfect for you!”
“Still no,” she said, deadpan.
You sipped lukewarm coffee, pretending interest in the motivational quotes on the bulletin board while gripping your mug tight enough to crack porcelain. Each word out of Janine’s mouth hit like a jab to your ribs.
“He volunteers at the rec center! And he’s super into structure. You two could bond over discipline. Like, classroom management. Or maybe just… discipline in general.”
You nearly choked. A fine mist of coffee sprayed into the nearest fern.
Melissa flicked a desperate glance your way. A silent scream for help. You shrugged, useless.
“Sounds like a… strong match,” you mumbled. The glare she sent you could’ve melted steel.
Traitor. You absolute coward.
The next day, he appeared. A clean-cut slab of overly chipper energy, standing outside Melissa’s classroom with a designer coffee cup. Her name was scrawled on it in suspiciously cheerful handwriting.
You saw him first. Your gut alarm blared. Melissa, of course, noticed your reaction before she noticed him.
You leaned against your own doorway, arms crossed, stomach sinking as he handed her the cup. She took it with a smile so tight it looked painful. He laughed, booming and confident. She barely twitched.
You wanted to throw him down the stairs.
Later, by the printer you cornered her.
“You took the coffee?”
“It was free,” she replied coolly. “Am I supposed to waste caffeine to make a point?”
“Maybe the point should be you’re not available. Not even for free coffee.”
It came out sharper than you meant.
Melissa stepped closer. Too close.
“You think I’m not making that clear?” she asked, low.
“Maybe not clear enough.”
She looked at your mouth.
“Then maybe I should fix that.”
You were one breath away from losing all common sense when—
“There she is!” Janine again, yelling from down the hall like a human foghorn. “Guess who’s coming to trivia night Thursday?! It’s gonna be so cute!”
Melissa’s jaw clenched. Yours dropped.
“Cute,” Janine repeated, oblivious.
Thursday came, brutal as a deadline. Trivia night, usually fun in a snarky kind of way, was now a minefield.
You barely noticed the awful team names or Ava accusing Barbara of cheating. Your eyes were locked on Melissa: stiff, trapped two stools away with Mr. Beige himself. He leaned in, babbling about jazz fusion. Melissa’s grip on her beer bottle turned white-knuckled.
She caught your eye. Just once. But it was enough.
She stood. Smooth. Sudden.
“Hey,” she said to the table, “I gotta go. Emergency. Union thing. Very official. Classified.”
Then she walked straight to you, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you outside.
The air hit cool and sharp. The bar noise faded behind you.
“I’m done,” she said.
“With… trivia?” you asked.
“With all of it.” She waved toward the bar. “The sneaking. The fake dates. The pretending I’m single while some jazz nerd tries to win me over with lukewarm coffee and weird shoulder touches.”
You swallowed. “Melissa…”
“I want to hold your hand in the hallway without needing a getaway plan. I want Janine to stop trying to sell me like clearance meat.” She stepped closer. “I want to tell them. Tonight.”
“…Now?” you squeaked.
Melissa grinned. “Unless you’d rather wait for Jacob’s next karaoke solo. He’s got Bohemian Rhapsody locked and loaded.”
You laughed, free, relieved. “God, no. Tonight. Let’s go.”
Back inside, no one noticed at first. Still yelling about whether a hot dog was a sandwich.
Then Melissa grabbed your hand in the center of the floor. Loud. Public. No room for interpretation.
She cleared her throat.
“For the record,” she said, “I’m officially off the market.”
Ava’s beer hit the floor. Jacob’s mouth dropped open, then stayed there. Janine blinked, confused.
“Wait, what market? Are we talking farmer’s market? Did I miss something?”
Melissa turned to you, then pulled you in. Fast. Confident. No whispers. No pretending.
She kissed you like she meant it. Like she’d been holding it back for too long.
Somewhere, someone gasped. Someone else cheered.
“Finally,” Jacob muttered, awestruck.
Ava clapped like she’d won money.
Janine’s face ping-ponged through shock, confusion, then delight. “Wait! You? Oh my gosh! This is why none of my setups worked?!”
Melissa wrapped an arm around your waist. “You really think I’d trade her for a guy who explains jazz fusion and wears a fedora indoors?”
Your face went nuclear red and for once, you didn’t care.
Janine bounced on her heels. “You two are so cute! I knew something was going on! Okay, I didn’t, but I felt it!”
“You’re done matchmaking, Janine,” Melissa said. “Forever.”
You leaned into her. She kissed your temple, soft and steady.
“Told you it’d be worth it,” she murmured.