Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(54)

Bash was losing it. And he needed to pull it together. He wasn’t supposed to like Audre for real. He wasn’t supposed to like anyone for real. When he moved to Brooklyn, he promised himself he wouldn’t. He was still too scarred from what happened. The tragedy.

Overwhelmed, Bash tore his eyes away from hers and peered down at the sidewalk. “Now that I’m here, I don’t really know what to say.”

“Why did you want to see me?” she asked softly. “It better be something good. I was halfway asleep in my bedroom.”

“And by ‘bedroom’ you mean ‘couch.’”

“Right.”

“I didn’t feel like texting anymore. And I didn’t want to FaceTime. I wanted to, uh… see you in person. I guess.”

Bash saw her take in a sharp breath. She blinked a few times and then nodded. “I know the feeling.”

“Plus, I just wanted to take a walk. It’s a nice night.”

“Yeah, Brooklyn’s kinda nice in the summer. It’s no cottage in Malibu, but there’s something magical about it.”

Bash was standing under a linden tree, a ubiquitous presence on Brooklyn sidewalks and in parks. Yellow blossoms breathed out a sweet, soothing scent. Blended with the streetlights, the reflection from the blossoms cast a warm glow on Audre’s face. Hypnotized, Bash was rooted to the spot.

“There is…” He stopped, cleared his throat, and deepened his voice. “There is something about the summertime here, yeah.”

Audre was right there, but still too far away. It was scrambling his brain. And she shouldn’t be having this effect on him. They were just friends. They couldn’t be anything more. He’d already ruined one life, back in Oakland. He didn’t want to ruin another.

Clio warned me about this, he thought, remembering an angry conversation they’d had before he left California. She told me I needed to face what happened before I tried to move on.

“But enough about the weather,” said Audre, cutting through the tension.

“I know, right? We’re talking like we don’t know each other.”

“Speaking of knowing each other… can I say something?”

“Yeah. I’m listening.”

“You flirt with me,” she said. “And it has to stop.”

Bash’s jaw dropped. He didn’t know what he expected to hear, but it wasn’t that. “You flirt with me!”

“I don’t even know how to flirt.”

“You might not know you’re doing it, but you are.”

“It’s not the same,” she said, her voice raising to a louder whisper. “I think… let’s agree to stop flirting. We’re just friends, right? I just don’t want things to get confusing.”

His stomach plummeted. His mouth felt dry. Suddenly, the air felt too hot and uncomfortably still. Her words sliced through him—but the worst part was, they made sense.

For him, things were already confusing. Yes, he had feelings for Audre. He couldn’t help that. But he could help what he did about it.

Why couldn’t he have met her before his life fell apart?

“No, you’re right. Let’s keep it professional.” He nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

“Also, I’m… I’m not ready to hang out outside of my challenges.”

“Oh. Oh? But, why?”

“I’m a logical, analytical person, right? I’ve been thinking a lot about this,” she said slowly. “Right now, we’re just friends. But the way we… are with each other? I think that if we hang out too much, I could start feeling things. And I’d end up hurt. Because you talk to a lot of girls. Like you said before, you ‘dabble.’ And I know Clio means something to you.”

“I wish you’d trust me about her. I don’t cheat. We’re not together.”

“But you’re not denying that she means something to you.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not denying it. But it’s not what you think. I just can’t talk about it.”

Audre nodded as if to say My point exactly.

“I’m not like you,” she said. “I can’t date a lot of people. I don’t want to dabble.”

“What do you want?”

She glanced at him for a few breaths and then looked away. A siren went off, far away. Someone’s dog, on a late-night walk, started barking.

“I want to be with one person.” She said this line with steely confidence, but her eyes were wide and vulnerable. “And I don’t wanna want something I can’t have. I have a book to write. And a future to plan. You know how that goes. You’re planning to move for your career. Permanently. All the way to Myrtle Beach.”

Bash looked up at her, struck silent.

“Aren’t you?” she asked.

“There’s a chance I could move. I hope it works out. Fifth Angel is my dream. But that has nothing to do with… I mean, you shouldn’t…” He stood there, gesturing at her and not making any sense. Overwhelmed, he stopped talking.

Bash felt a million miles away from her. Confused, hurt, in almost physical pain. Seeing her so tortured and knowing that his vagueness was the cause? It was killing him. “Can you come down? I feel like some fucked-up version of Romeo out here.”