Trying To Maintain

F O R T Y - T W O

Timitrius

"What are you talking about?" I decide to play dumb. If I can be honest, I'm scared as a bitch right now. I know what this man is capable of. I'm scared for me and Rashad—but that ain't something he needs to know.

"Unlock the phone, Tim," Drevon says smiling still.

"For what?" I ask him trying to stall.

"So I can see for myself what I already know," he says with a broad smile on his face, one that showcased his deep dimples.

"What you think you know, Drevon?"

"You and that nigga fucking," he answers with the same broad smile. "You and that nigga fucking in my house at that. So just unlock the phone, and let me see for myself what I already know." He holds the phone out for me to unlock.

I stare him in his eyes for a long while before I sigh and decide to do what he asks. "Aight," I snatch the phone from his hand. "And I want a apology when you don't find nothing, too." I tell him with a mug as I use my face to unlock the phone.

I hand it to him and walk to the restroom to to take care of my hygiene. I'm not a complete dumbass. I knew there was always a possibility that someone can go through my phone at any given time. I delete shit all the time. Anything that is even remotely gay gets erased.

Even shit between me and Drevon I delete. If I feel like it's some shit I want look back on? I screenshot it and put it in my hidden album in my phone. Simple. Drevon the only nigga in that album anyway.

He can go through that phone all he want. It ain't gone be shit he find unless he looking for pictures and videos of me and himself—half of which he sent me.

I'm not worried.

I wash myself thoroughly and brush my teeth too. I'm damn near feening to dig into Drevon to see why he was all in Pat face, but telling me he want "have less sex."

Kinda bullshit is that?

I get dressed and walk out of the bathroom to find Drevon sitting on the side of the bed, looking stressed. His head lifts from his hands as his eyes meet mine. "Bae," he calls out for me, voice sounding as stressed as he looked. I ignore him and get in my side of the bed to lay down.

It's been a long, stressful ass day.

"Baby," he calls out to me again as I lay down and get comfortable under the covers. He adjusts his position to where his back is against the headboard of the bed.

"Unless you finna apologize, I don't want hear shit," I mumble in response. "And why you was all over Pat being all friendly and shit—cheesing all in that nigga face and shit?" I ask him with a mug.

"I'm not finna do that shit with you, Tim. Is you and Rashad fucking?"

We back on this shit...

"Why you keep asking me that shit?" I ask him still playing mad, but also kind of scared. I'm really feeling a lot of different emotions right now to be honest.

"Because the shit he said to me outside and the way y'all act got me thinking."

I sit up, worried that Rashad done let this nigga know we fuck around. "What did he say to you?"

He looks at me and starts to shake his head looking disappointed. "The way you just got worried let me know that what I'm thinking is true." He mumbles.

"What he say?" I ask again, trying to ease my posture so I won't seem guilty of something.

"It really don't matter. Y'all was fucking in my house, Tim? You really don't fuck with me to the point where you fucking somebody else in what's supposed to be my safe haven? The disrespect at that level with us?" He asks looking at me looking sad now.