Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(57)

The only light came from a flashing disco ball hanging over the courtyard. No AC. No one in charge.

Audre and Bash stood on the outskirts of the action, peering into the crowd.

“You look like a deer in headlights,” Bash hollered over the music. “What’s up?”

“You’ve lived here for five minutes, and you knew about this party? I grew up here and had no idea. What does it say about me that I was never invited? Am I that uncool?”

“No! Folks probably put you on a different level. Like you’re above these antics.”

Fiddling with her cameo ring, she looked down at her skimpy cami. She felt a sickening surge of insecurity, like she was trying too hard to be sexy. “Well, do I look uncool?”

“You’re the prettiest girl in here. And it’s no contest.”

Bash paused, looking stunned. And embarrassed?

“What?” Audre thought she’d misheard him over the noise.

He shook his head, as if ridding his brain of all intrusive thoughts. “Nothing. I meant that whoever you decide to hook up with is a lucky man.”

Audre smiled hesitantly. Then she hopped up and down a little, shaking out her arms. “Okay. How do I do this?”

“First, find somebody you wanna make out with.”

She quickly scanned the crowd.

C. J. Jacobs? she wondered. Kinda fine, but could I ever have chemistry with a guy obsessed with competitive subway surfing? Dangerous, and not in a hot way. Hmm… Maxwell Reynolds? Ugh, he’d become such a player ever since he returned from rehab five inches taller. Definite no. There’s gotta be someone here who’s cute. Cute and not Bash.

Just then, she landed on Manny Sanchez. He wasn’t conventionally good-looking, but he was confident and smart as hell—plus, they’d had chemistry one year at a debate championship. He was bobbing his head to the throwback DJ Khaled banger pounding through the speakers.

“Him. Manny. The guy by the double doors.”

“Really? That guy?”

Audre narrowed her eyes at Bash. “You’re supposed to be helping, not judging.”

“You’re right, my bad. Yeah! He’s the one,” agreed Bash with forced enthusiasm. “You know him?”

“I do, but what do I say? Why am I so nervous? I don’t think I can do this.”

Bash turned to Audre and gripped her shoulders. “Look at me.”

She did.

“You ran for class president at the most academically rigorous school in Brooklyn. You’re a therapist. You’re great with people. Just talk.”

“But how?” wailed Audre. “I’m great at running for office. Or counseling somebody. Any activity when I’m in charge. But I’m not in charge here. Plus, everyone’s two hours into drinking, and I never drink. I feel so stiff.”

“You never drink?”

“Well, I had some sips of champagne at my California cousin’s wedding.”

Bash nodded slowly, giving this careful consideration. “Bet. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll grab you a beer. You won’t get drunk off one beer. Just hold the cup and sip so you have something to do.”

“Perfect. Beer. I’ll sip a beer.”

“And can I give you some party advice? You’re gonna be tempted, but resist the urge to lecture or correct people.”

“I don’t understand. Example, please.”

“I mean… hmm… like if somebody’s talking about celebrity gossip or whatever. Like the Kardashians. Don’t be like, the Kardashians are oppressors and cultural rapists!”

“But they are,” she deadpanned.

“Of course they are, but people are entertained by them. It’s a party, let people be problematic and toxic. I know you’ll want to psychoanalyze. I know you feel safest counseling clients in bathrooms. But this challenge is about breaking you out of that.”

How did Bash know she felt safest counseling people in bathrooms? It was true, but she’d never actually said that out loud, to anyone. Is this what it felt like to be seen? To be understood without words? A warm, potent feeling surged through her. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, trying to chase away this sensation.

For her sanity, it had to go away.

“Right,” she said, her voice unsteady. “If I get stuck, I’ll just tell everyone you have a third nipple.”

“Okay, chin-tooth,” he said with sparkling eyes. “Come on, let’s get you into trouble.”





Chapter 23


Audre and Bash made their way to the deejay booth. The deejay, a guy wearing a striped bikini and body glitter, was overseeing the Spotify playlist and the drinks cooler. Bash bought a Fireball shot for himself, but there was no more beer. Audre decided that the red punch looked doable.

“What’s it spiked with?” Bash, looking worried, asked the deejay.

While wiggling to his beats, the deejay yelled, “Everything.”

So, Bash bought a cup of punch and a bottled water—and watered it down for Audre.

“Just take sips,” he hollered over the music. “Little sips.”

“Little sips.” She nodded.

“If you feel like you’re getting too drunk, tap your teeth. If they’re numb, stop drinking.”