Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(55)

She chewed on her bottom lip, her dimples popping. Was she thinking it over? Whatever she was doing, it was taking too long. And he was a man of action.

“I’m coming up,” he blurted out.

“No, you can’t! My parents are asleep. No.”

“Can you sneak outside?”

“No, Bash. This is a firm boundary.”

“I respect your boundaries, but please just come down. I know I’ve been confusing. It’s my fault. Let me explain.”

“No, Bash! There’s nothing to explain. I’m embarrassed enough as it is. I’m gonna go to bed now, okay?”

“Audre…”

“I’m fine, Romeo. Go home. We’ll talk later.”

She smiled tightly, then shot him a quick wave and closed the window. He peered down at his phone in his hand. It was 11:50 PM. He leaned against the tree, hands thrust in his pockets. Lost in thought.

When he finally turned to head home, he glanced back at his phone.

It was 11:57 PM. Seven minutes had passed.

Chilled to the bone, he walked back to his building in a near trance. He couldn’t forget what he already knew—that it only took seven minutes for everything to change.





Chapter 22


And just like that, Audre stopped returning Bash’s texts. She was mortified. Basically, she told Bash she liked him. And she did it from her window, like in a cheesy fairy tale. And he didn’t have a response. She went out on a limb and he left her there. Why’d she have to be so melodramatic? They weren’t dating. Why’d she jump forward a million steps and break up with him? Why had she been so honest?

The problem was, she felt safe saying anything to him. As a therapist, she was used to people spilling their guts to her. But Audre never reciprocated—and because of that, no one ever actually got to know her. This was her armor, the safest way to move through the world. If no one knew your weird stuff, they couldn’t hold it against you. Audre loved controlling how she was perceived. But with Bash, she couldn’t control anything. Ever since the beach panic attack, it was like he had a key to her psyche. All her boundaries dissolved and blew away, like pollen on a breeze.

She tried to ignore his “let’s talk” texts. But then, late at night, he’d started sending his random, stream-of-consciousness thoughts…


Bash: when ur watching a movie set in long-ago times, do u ever think about how everyone smelled



Bash: should i try to grow a mustache



Bash: did u know ur never more than 3 feet from a spider



Bash: what if u ran into urself in an alternate dimension? what would u say to alternate-dimension audre? i think i’d wanna make out with myself. see what it’s like



That last one was too deranged to ignore. So she folded. She missed him! And slowly, they built back up to the place they were before. Calling, FaceTime, talking on the actual phone about nothing and everything. But now they followed Audre’s new rules—no flirting, and no seeing each other outside of the challenges.

Audre had to say, she was pleased with herself. Out of sight almost meant out of mind. It was easier not to fixate on Bash when they weren’t talking on the phone, FaceTiming, or being in each other’s presence. She was good, generally. The problems started late at night. Super late, when the house was quiet and dark, and everyone was asleep but her insomniac ass, and she’d reread old texts they’d sent each other… and swiftly tumble down the rabbit hole. Did she google his old track videos, spiraling over slow-mo footage of his strong, long legs as he left his competition in the dust? Uhh, yes. Did she listen to the same CBSSports.com post-meet interview several times, feeling soothed by the slow, deep cadence of his voice? Yes. But did her late-night thirstiness exist if no one knew about it? Nope!

On the best friend side of things, Reshma and Audre finally made up—Reshma enthusiastically and Audre hesitantly.

“I was wrong to imply that you need my help to get a guy,” she told Audre over the phone in her expressive, Londonese-American accent. “You know I just be saying shit.”

“You really hurt my feelings.”

“I’m so sorry, babe. I never meant to. I’ll never meddle again. Forgive me?”

“Say you’re an emotional terrorist.”

“I’m an emotional terrorist.”

“You’re forgiven,” said Audre, and she meant it.

“Good, now we can discuss what really matters. That party with Bash on Friday.”

“I was thinking about the red cami top and jeans?”

“Purrrr,” she said approvingly. “WAIT. Challenge number three is staying out past 10 PM, and challenge number four is hooking up with a boy you have chemistry with. Do both at the party. You can’t waste that ’fit. Every guy in town’ll be there.”

“Are you going?”

“Please. You know I only attend high school parties when they’re at my house.”

Audre had to admit that completing two challenges at once sounded like a good idea. The faster she could get through her list, the sooner she could start writing her book—and the sooner she could move on from Bash.

And maybe making out with someone would help her move on, too.