Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(40)
Chapter 16
“But you were in Argentina for less than two weeks! How did you cause so much trouble in so little time?”
“Look, none of it was my fault. I didn’t mean to catch the most devastating cold of my life. Plus, I didn’t know the production assistant was gonna look like Victoria Monet.”
Audre, no longer grounded, was thrifting in Soho with Reshma. It was a bright day, both girls hiding behind sunglasses and dressed in roomy jeans and Y2K-era tube tops. They looked like cross-ethnic twins. It was a humid, drizzly afternoon in late June, and the only people out there besides them were tourists. Audre couldn’t buy anything—Soho vintage spots were too expensive for her—but it was fun to window-shop.
Now they were at the Vintage Twin on Broadway. Reshma was trying on tops while Audre sat on a plush ottoman outside the fitting room, idly shaking her iced latte.
“I told you that you were gonna date someone.”
“It wasn’t even that deep. I was so contagious, we barely even kissed,” she said through the curtain. “It was just an emotional affair.”
“What was the age difference again?”
“Almost three years, that’s all! Spiritually, I’m older, anyway. It’s more that my parents just wanted to get rid of me. Why’d they make me go in the first place? They record overseas precisely so that they don’t have to deal with me.”
Reshma came out in a fuchsia corset top. It was so cute.
“Too tight?” she asked a sales guy, who appeared out of thin air.
“Just right,” Reshma whispered to the wall mirror. Then she turned to Audre. “The problem is, my parents are old-ass Gen X famous people. They’re used to publicity teams smoothing out every minor inconvenience. They don’t know how to deal with an iconic daughter.”
“So many unhealed family dynamics,” remarked Audre wisely.
“Speaking of… have you talked to your dad?”
“I’m thinking of calling him. I should give him a chance to apologize, I guess.” She sipped her iced coffee. She hated talking about this. It was bad enough thinking about it. “But I’ve been trying to stay busy, so…”
“Tell. Me. Everything,” demanded Reshma, who slipped back into the fitting room. “Last I heard, you were going to meet Bash to do the ‘physical activity’ challenge. And then your phone went dead. How was it?”
“It was fine,” said Audre simply. “The Experience Challenge is doing what it’s supposed to be doing. Umm… anyway, please buy that top so I can borrow it.”
Reshma came out of the fitting room, still in the corset. Her mouth was open.
“Audre. You’re changing the subject.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“There’s no subject to change,” protested Audre. “So, you hungry?”
“Don’t play with me. I don’t have time for this—you know fitting rooms scare me.”
It was true. Reshma suspected that they were portals to an alternate dimension. Especially ones with double mirrors.
Reshma stuck her arm out and pulled Audre behind the curtain. Knocked off-balance, Audre toppled onto the dressing room stool.
“Speak,” ordered Reshma, standing over Audre with her hands on her hips.
“Well… Bash isn’t exactly who we thought he was. He isn’t just some party ho. He’s actually sweet and kind.”
“Interesting. Say more.”
“The rumors about all the different girls? Either I’ve been red-pilled by this kid, or they’re all misunderstandings. Bash is nice to everyone. It’s easy to get the wrong idea. Like, he hung out with Barry.”
“Not Barry!”
“Swear,” whispered Audre. “Now they’re tight! Which is basically how Sparrow said she felt after she met Bash once. And I get it! Each time we hang out, I feel like something important happened. Even though it’s just a dude being nontoxic and friendly while also being fine. A triple combo rarely seen in Brooklyn.”
“It’s rarely seen anywhere,” muttered Reshma. “So what was your physical activity?”
“Well… he took me surfing. But I didn’t actually surf.” She couldn’t bring herself to explain the Smurf Incident. “Also, I might’ve freaked out a little bit.”
“Oh no, babe. Panic attack?”
“I wanted to die. Like, just thinking about it is just… ugh.” Audre shuddered. “But Bash was cool about it. He calmed me down, even. Made me laugh. And then, look.”
Audre showed Reshma their text thread from three nights ago, while he was at the Pia Colada show. “See? He’s so pure.”
Reshma scanned Audre’s phone, her eyes slowly widening.
“What?” asked Audre.
“He loves you.”
“Stop it.”
“He loves you bad.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“And you love him, too.”
She refused to admit her low-level attraction. It wasn’t even her brand. Audre was an intellectual. She was supposed to like a diamond-in-the-rough guy that shone only for her, barely noticed by anyone else. Wouldn’t it be more special if he was off the radar? Not someone who was name-checked in some rapper’s song after hijacking her Uber.