Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(56)

Friday night came faster than expected. Audre told her mom she was going to “a random get-together and don’t worry the parents will be there,” which wasn’t a total lie. Eva, preoccupied with wedding planning, simply insisted that she honor her 11 PM curfew. Ever since their post-beach fight, Audre knew she better be on her best behavior. So, she happily agreed. After 9 PM, she started yawning anyway. Good thing she only had to stay out past 10 PM.

The plan was to meet at the party. But when Bash texted her the address of a local bakery, she was confused. He assured her that he knew what he was doing. So, trusting this maniac, she showed up exactly five minutes after their meeting time of 9 PM. He was standing in front of the bakery, looking stylish in an orange PEACE IS POWER sweatshirt, cuffed cargos, and a mini crossbody bag.

It had been forever since she’d seen him (i.e., a week). She’d forgotten that simply looking at him was… a lot. The slightly sunburned, bronzed skin. The dreamy, abstract ink snaking up and around his arm. His impossible height. The tension between the hard metal of his rings and the soft, long taper of his fingers. God.

“Hi, friend!” she said, sneaking up behind him. Startled, he jumped a little, and then turned to face her. In a flash, his face went from stranger-danger to goofy-smiley.

“Whoa.” His eyes widened, scanning quickly from her face to her feet and back up again. She was wearing the red cami outfit, and she’d swept her hair half-up, with a few loose braids in front. “Wow. Okay. Hi.”

“Hi,” she said, repeating herself in a breathless voice she barely recognized. For a moment they just stood there, drinking each other in, not talking but switching between nervous fidgeting and blatant staring.

“Wow,” he repeated. “You look—”

“Thanks, so do you,” said Audre quickly, before Bash forgot the no-flirting rule (and she did, too). She nibbled on her bottom lip, trying desperately to control the helpless smile that was plastered all over her face. “Since when do you have a brow piercing?”

He shrugged shyly. “I don’t wear it all the time. Is it weird?”

“No, it’s giving Myspace era. Cute.”

He grinned and peered down at his feet.

Audre had to change the subject ’cause the sparks between them were already flying and it was going to be a long night otherwise. “Now, tell me why we’re at Chevalier’s Bakery and Café for a party? Cafés don’t stay open late.”

“Right, but after hours in the summer, Chevalier’s opens the backyard. And it turns into a party. Full bar.”

“But we can’t go to a bar,” whispered Audre, looking from left to right. “I’m sixteen and you’re seventeen. And I don’t have a fake ID. Reshma does, and maybe if you’re nearsighted and racially blind we sort of look similar…”

“Chevalier’s doesn’t card,” said Bash. “It’s an open secret.”

Audre’s eyes widened.

“Just trust me.”

“Okay, I’ll trust you. But first, I should tell you that Reshma and I sort of raised the stakes. We decided that I’m gonna do the next two challenges tonight. Staying out late and successfully making out. I’m killing two birds with one party.”

Audre refused to allow this to be awkward. The best way to deal with it was to be direct.

“Really.” He said it fast and flat, like it was punched out of him. “The kissing challenge—I forgot about that. So, you’re saying I’m a wingman tonight?”

“Yes.”

Crossing his arms, he thought this over for a second. And then his brow tightened. “I don’t think you need me for this one.”

“Bash, you promised. We shook on it, like gentlemen.”

Visibly flustered, he grabbed an elastic out of his pocket and scraped the top of his hair into a bun. “I, as a man, cannot help you, as a woman, hook up with some fool.”

“Why are you assuming I’d kiss a fool?” She paused. “Actually, Reshma told me I have no taste. Let’s just say my taste is developing.”

“I don’t know, bruh. When I agreed to this, I didn’t think this far ahead.”

Stop me, then, she thought, ignoring all common sense. Tell me you don’t want me to kiss anyone else.

“Why does it bother you?” she asked pointedly.

“I just think it’s morally dubious, A.”

“How’s it morally dubious, B?”

“’Cause we’re taking advantage of some poor kid who doesn’t know he’s just a pawn in your game.”

“I have a lot of things, but ‘game’ is not one of them. Which is why I need you.” She paused. “Are you going to break your promise?”

Bash rolled his eyes dramatically. And then exhaled even more dramatically.

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine?”

“Yeah, I’m down. I don’t break promises.”

She lifted her pinky, he hooked his pinky in hers, and the night began.





Bash was right. Inside, it was Brooklyn high school central, with a generous sprinkling of Manhattan kids, too. Chevalier’s front room was generic and homey, with French café tables and baguettes painted in watercolors on the ivory walls. But in the back, beyond French double doors, was an outdoor courtyard packed with people. Everyone was smashed together—drinking, dancing, and spilling into the café. Behind the register, three girls in halter tops and intense eyeliner were filming a TikTok. Two people Audre knew from Cheshire’s gender-neutral soccer team were groping each other under a café table. A clique of uber-rich boys was taking selfies while unironically throwing up gang signs.