Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(2)

“He paid for your lunch?” continued Audre. “He’s fine and generous.”

“I know, right? Our eyes met and there was this COSMIC. SPARK. We both felt it.”

“Love this. So what’s the problem?”

Sparrow peeled off another nail. “Today, Marco told me he likes him, too. Look, Marco’s my best friend, but you know how competitive I am. I’m an Aries moon—I go feral. It’s why I had to quit the chess club.”

Audre grimaced, remembering. “Hmm. So, do you know if Bash likes guys?”

“Unclear. It’s more that he has this energy where everyone’s attracted to him. He’s just a vibe. He wears lots of rings and thrifted shit, and is floppy and lanky, and just seems, like, slutty but in a spiritual way?”

“Sounds like you really got to know him at the diner. How long did you talk?”

“About thirty seconds.” Sparrow’s face crumpled into a sob. “Fuck. I miss him.”

“Good, good, just lean into the discomfort,” said Audre, struggling to keep a straight face. “What do I always say?”

“It’s not love, it’s adrenaline.”

“Did I say that? I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah, at my twelfth birthday party.” Her voice was getting squeakier the more she drank. “I burst a nose capillary after crying for three hours over that Bieber doc. Remember, you left early cause your mom never let you go to sleepovers.”

Audre stiffened at the mention of her mom. Nervously, she fidgeted with her cameo ring, twirling it around her finger. Once Audre’s biggest fan and fiercest protector, these days her mom was practically a stranger. She didn’t even come to the awards ceremony. She must’ve just… forgotten? Two, three, four years ago, that would’ve been unthinkable. Their relationship, once as cozy and impenetrable as a well-knit sweater, had been slowly unspooling all year.

Another reason why she couldn’t wait to get to Dadifornia.

“Yes, but I also say, decenter boys. You’re the star of your life. You’re the prize.”

“But Bash is so beautiful.”

“He’s beautiful, Sparrow, but he’s also just a boy. Not to be gender normative, but have you met a boy? There’s no reason to be intimidated by one.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “They barely have a coherent thought in their heads.”

“That is… pretty gender normative.”

“My point is, if you pursue Bash and he likes you back, cool! If not? His loss.”

“But why would he like me? He could date anyone. I’ve heard that he has.” She slumped down in the tub, walking her sneakers up the tiled wall. “Would I be hotter with highlights?”

“Sparrow, there’s someone out there dying to love you. Don’t ‘fix’ yourself before they get a chance to fall for the real you.”

Damn. Audre wasn’t even on her best game, and she gave herself chills with that one.

“My ex was into the real me. Dumping him was a mistake.”

“Your ex was a cheater, Sparrow. He gave you and half our class mono.”

“So it’s a no?”

“Yes. Going back to him would be toxic settling.”

“Toxic settling?” asked Sparrow, accidentally dropping a press-on nail into her vodka.

“It’s when you return to a situation that’s bad for you. If it was bad once, it’ll always be bad. Think of it this way—if you see the same tree twice in the forest, it means you’re lost.”

Sparrow gasped. “You’re so. Fucking. Wise.”

Let’s hope Stanford University thinks so, Audre thought, her mind accidentally wandering. College applications were due next fall, which was practically tomorrow. Stanford had the best psych program in the nation. And with her high school record—class president, debate team captain, AP everything, insane PSAT scores and extracurriculars—she should’ve been a no-brainer. But almost everyone applying would have her stats. It wasn’t enough.

So, Audre had figured out how to wow the admissions board. Along with her application, she’d turn in a special project. Extra extra credit if you will. A self-published self-help book for teens. Rules for thriving based on her best advice! It was an excellent idea.

Well, it would be an excellent idea as soon as she figured out what to write. Unfortunately, brainstorming wasn’t going well. Yet another reason she couldn’t get to Dadifornia fast enough. In the laid-back paradise of Malibu, she could finish writing by summer’s end—just in time for applications in the fall.

As Audre opened her mouth to answer Sparrow, Reshma Wells burst into the lavish bathroom. Hurricane Reshma.

Therapy session over.





Chapter 2


Reshma Wells was the party hostess. She was also Audre’s best friend. Well, usually. At times, their extremely alpha personalities sort of clashed. When they were good, Reshma was her platonic soulmate. When they were bad, Reshma was her Regina George. But they were used to the ups and downs; they’d been friends since childhood.

“Audre!” she exclaimed in her British-inflected accent (she’d moved to New York City from London in fourth grade). Leaning in the doorway with her huge, smoky eyes, wild black waves, bralette, and slouchy jeans, she looked like an exquisite, haunted baby doll. “Bro. Ellery told me that Akilah knows who’s responsible for Coco-Jean’s pregnancy scare.”