Unhidden

Chapter Nine-Andre

Forty-eight hours.

Forty-eight f*****g hours.

That was how long I had been at the fire station.

By the time my shift finally ended on Saturday, I felt like my entire body had forgotten what rest was.

I drove home half-asleep.

Not literally.

But close.

All I wanted was a shower, food, and my bed.

Preferably with Jamal in it.

That thought made me smile.

I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days.

Honestly, that had become normal for us.

I hated that it was normal.

But it was.

Sometimes we’d go two days.

Sometimes three.

Sometimes longer.

And then he’d suddenly appear at my door, and everything would feel right again for a few hours.

It was exhausting.

But it was us.

When I got home, I showered immediately.

I stood under the hot water for a long time, letting it loosen the tension in my shoulders.

Afterward, I put on sweatpants and a T-shirt, grabbed something small to eat, and collapsed onto the couch.

I checked my phone.

11:00 p.m.

I frowned.

Eleven.

I knew Jamal sometimes worked late.

I knew Carter Group never really slept.

But he had told me he was getting off work early today.

So I picked up my phone.

Baby, you home yet?

The response came a few minutes later.

Um, no.

I stared at the screen.

No?

I checked the time again.

11:03.

Why aren’t you home yet?

A few seconds passed.

Then:

Nothing. I’m just hanging out.

I frowned.

Just hanging out?

I immediately called him.

He didn’t answer.

I waited.

Then my phone buzzed.

Dre, I can’t talk. It’s noisy.

I sat up.

Noisy?

I typed back.

Jamal, I need you to pick my call.

I stared at the screen.

One minute.

Two.

Then I called again.

This time, he answered.

Music immediately filled my ear.

Loud music.

People talking.

Laughing.

I could hear a whole crowd behind him.

“Where you at?”

There was a pause.

“Dre…”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at a friend’s party.”

I blinked.

“A party?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Dre, I forgot.”

I frowned.

“You forgot?”

“Yeah. It just slipped my mind.”

I sat back against the couch.

“You told me you were getting off work early.”

“I did.”

“So when did you decide to go to a party?”

“I didn’t really decide today. I just remembered that I had told them I’d come.”

Them.

I noticed it immediately.

Not him.

Not her.

Them.

It was strange.

Jamal knew exactly how to talk.

He always did.

And he knew there was a difference between saying he, she, or they.

I didn’t push it.

“Okay.”

“Dre…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not that serious.”

I frowned.

“I didn’t say it was serious.”

“Then—”

“I said why didn’t you tell me?”

There was silence.

Then he sighed.

“Okay. Fine. I’m sorry.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“Okay.”

“Are you mad?”

“No.”

I wasn’t.

Not really.

I was tired.

Confused.

Maybe a little irritated.

But mostly, I wanted to know what was going on.

“When are you getting off?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Dre, I’m at a party.”

“I know that.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“Because I want to know when I’m going to see you.”

There was another pause.

Then I asked, “Are you coming by my place later?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

I frowned.

“Why?”

“Dre, I’m busy.”

I almost laughed.

“Baby, you’re not busy.”

“What?”

“You’re at a party that I didn’t know about.”

He was quiet.

“I don’t even know who’s throwing the party.”

“It’s just a party.”

“Okay.”

“Dre—”

“I said okay.”

He sighed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I looked at the clock.

11:18.

“Fine.”

I didn’t want to fight.

Not tonight.

Not after forty-eight hours of work.

“Just keep me in the loop, okay?”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Dre.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

The call ended.

I stared at my phone.

Something felt weird.

I couldn’t explain it.

Jamal hadn’t technically done anything wrong.

He was at a party.

Fine.

People went to parties.

But the secrecy bothered me.

Why hadn’t he told me?

Why had he avoided answering my call?

Why was he suddenly so vague?

And why did he keep saying them?

I shook my head.

Maybe I was overthinking.

Maybe it was a family friend’s party.

Rich people had rich people problems.

There was always some birthday.

Some fundraiser.

Some engagement.

Some business celebration.

Some ridiculous event where everybody wore expensive clothes and pretended they weren’t watching each other.

Jamal was around that world all the time.

Maybe that was all it was.

Besides, I trusted him.

I did.

I had no reason not to.

Still…

Something felt off.

I eventually put my phone down.

Twenty minutes passed.

Then I picked it up again.

I couldn’t help myself.

Baby, what’s going on?

His response came several minutes later.

Dre, nothing.

I frowned.

Feed me details.

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Dre, I’m just here.

I sighed.

I don’t like you ghosting me and then saying everything is quiet while you’re at a party I didn’t even know about.

His response came quickly.

I’m not ghosting you.

Then talk to me.

Nothing.

I waited.

Then:

I’m just here, okay? Nothing serious. I’m just here.

I stared at the message.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I typed:

What are you wearing?

No response.

I sent another.

What are you doing?

Finally:

Dre, I’m just here.

I dropped my phone onto my lap.

That was weird.

Very weird.

Normally Jamal would tell me.

He might not give me every single detail, but he’d say something.

He’d tell me what he was wearing.

Who was there.

What kind of event it was.

Something.

Tonight?

Nothing.

Just vague answers.

I leaned back.

Maybe I was being possessive.

Maybe I was simply tired.

Forty-eight hours without proper sleep could make anybody suspicious.

I rubbed my eyes.

The truth was, I wasn’t used to Jamal being out with people.

We had barely ever gone out together.

Not properly.

A few times, yes.

But most of our dates happened at home.

My place.

His place when he could get away with it.

Private restaurants.

Quiet places.

Secluded places.

Somewhere nobody knew us.

Somewhere nobody could ask questions.

Sometimes I hated that.

Sometimes I understood it.

Sometimes I didn’t know what to feel.

So hearing loud music behind him tonight made something inside me uncomfortable.

Not because I didn’t trust him.

Because I wanted to be part of his life.

I wanted to know where he was.

I wanted to be the person he called when he decided to go somewhere.

I wanted to be able to say, Hey, baby, I’ll come with you.

But that wasn’t our reality.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

I looked at the time.

11:52 p.m.

I was exhausted.

Completely exhausted.

So I picked up my phone one last time.

Baby, text me when you get home, okay?

Then I added:

And don’t stay out too late.

He responded with a heart.

I smiled.

Of course.

One little heart, and suddenly I felt better.

Jamal knew how to do that.

He knew exactly how to calm me down without actually explaining anything.

I placed my phone on the table.

My eyes were already closing.

Tomorrow, I’d ask him about the party.

Not tonight.

Tonight, I needed sleep.

Forty-eight hours at the station had taken everything out of me.

I sank into the couch for a moment, then forced myself toward the bedroom.

As I walked down the hallway, one thought stayed in my head.

Who exactly was throwing that party?

I shook my head.

I’d ask tomorrow.

For now, I trusted him.

I had to.

Because whatever else our relationship was—

Jamal was still my baby.

And I loved him.