Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(43)

And that it’s safer for you if we stay friends only.

Bash obviously couldn’t tell her all of that. Turns out he didn’t have to say anything at all, because they’d reached the Target entrance. She swept by him in a cloud of soft, citrusy perfume, looking summertime-fly in an oversized tee and a miniskirt made of some stretchy material that made Bash’s head hurt. He looked away, fast.

Audre’s Audre-ness was driving him crazy. But, again, he had to control his feelings. Audre and Bash were just friends. He’d slid right into the role, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Which was why, at some point, he’d have to tell her that she was way off about Clio. It was only fair. But the truth was too painful. And hanging out with Audre felt too good.

He knew he was running from his problems. But running was what he did best, right?

“If we’re gonna do this,” she said, “you have to relax. ‘Dildo’ is just a word. Be mature.”

“I think you’re overestimating my maturity.”

“Bash, come on.”

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding.” He turned his Raiders cap to the back and neutralized his expression. “I’m ready. Let’s go. What’s the move?”

“I guess we just wing it. Go with God?”

“Bet.”

“And you swear to me that this is cool. You’re not crossing some sort of line with Clio?”

“I swear, it’s cool. Are we gonna do this every time we link up? Besides, I’m not buying a dildo. You are.”

“Right, that’s true,” she said, and she seemed to deflate a bit. Her expression was etched with slight worry. Or embarrassment? Which one was it?

Bash realized that he wasn’t fulfilling his end of the deal. He was supposed to be Audre’s cheerleader. “You got this, okay? Look, I know you’re not easily scandalized. You listen to people’s deepest confessions and don’t blink. Let’s just… um… find the sex toys aisle…”

“Sexual wellness aisle…”

“… and get this over with.”

Audre nodded, her mouth in a tight line. “Honestly? Dealing with other people’s dark truths is easy. Because it isn’t about me. I’m gonna say something embarrassing right now.”

“I’m listening.”

“You’re frowning.”

“This is my active listening face.”

Her mouth dropped, and then she laughed despite herself.

“You’re making fun of me now?”

“Yep.” He bit back a smile. “Sorry, continue.”

“No, it’s just that I always try to carry myself with decorum.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I mean, I’m the class president.”

“Yeah, but you’re not the president.”

“And that’s not all. I wear this cameo ring, see? It was my mom’s, my grandma’s, my great-grandma’s, and so on. They’re power women, okay? The ring makes me feel like I belong to a coven or something. Do I really wanna buy a sex toy in front of my ancestors’ ring?”

Bash nibbled his lower lip in thought. Without thinking, he took her right hand in his and turned her ring so the cameo faced inside. She met his eyes. A current passed between them, a warm surge of electricity. He blinked slowly. Something fluttered in Bash’s stomach. Gently, he let her hand go.

“Now they’ll never know. Right?”

She nodded silently, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile. And then she averted her eyes. “R-right. Thanks. I was being silly anyway.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s go!”

She rushed off to find The Aisle in Question. Bash hustled to catch up with her.

“Why’re you in such a hurry?”

“Hurry? I’m not in a hurry.”

“Yo! Slow down.” Bash stepped in front of Audre, smoothly intercepting her. They paused for a breath, realizing they were standing way too close to each other in the kitchenware aisle. They both took a step back.

“Your brain can’t think properly when you’re moving so fast.”

Audre raised her eyebrows, interested. “Based on what evidence?”

“Mine,” he admitted. “Have you ever been on the go, just doing shit on fast-forward, and then you try to remember something? Someone’s name, maybe? Or where you put your phone? Think about what you do next. You stop in your tracks to think about it. ’Cause while you’re moving, your brain shuts off.”

Audre pondered this. “That’s true. Wow. Sounds like you’re speaking from experience. I guess a world-class runner would know something about moving fast.”

World-class runner? So specific. Where did she get that from? Bash had never said those words to Audre. She only knew what he’d told her—which was that he ran track at his old high school, and he was good. She didn’t know about the nights where agonizing muscle spasms kept him from sleep. The tutors falsifying his tests so he could compete. His permanently dissatisfied father who pushed him to the brink. Audre couldn’t have known all that, and yet she was eyeing him like she could see right into his brain.

“When I ran,” he said, “I didn’t think about anything. Just the basics. Happy, sad, hungry, cold, stress, move, win. No complicated thoughts.”