Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(61)
Had her feet touched the ground since she met him?
They stayed that way forever. Hearts thundering against each other, drowning in sensation. Finally, slowly, Bash lowered Audre to the ground. They were still in each other’s space, though. Audre was close enough to count his eyelashes. To feel his breath on her skin. Bash Henry was overwhelming.
“You fought for me. You fought. For me?”
“And I’d do it again,” he whispered, ghosting his lips against hers.
The chemistry was so strong, she gasped and pulled away, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. Then he dipped back down, drawing her into a real kiss this time. Hot, passionate, searching. She didn’t know how to kiss like this—but it was okay because, oh, Bash knew what he was doing. His soft, sensual lips ignited her, lighting fires throughout her body. Tenderly, he nibbled on her bottom lip. She whimpered a little. He smiled a little. And things got serious. He gathered her braids in one hand, tilting her head back, and kissed her deeply, hungrily, sucking her tongue into his mouth.
That’s when she melted.
Tingles fluttered throughout her body, scrambling her brain. He kissed her till she was liquid in his arms, till her head was spinning, and if she wasn’t already tipsy, Bash’s mouth would’ve taken her there.
Her curfew was the last thing on her mind. Turns out? It was the least of her problems.
1, 2, 3, 4… THRIVE!
A Teen’s Rules for Flourishing on This Dying Planet
By Audre Mercy-Moore
Rule 9:
Unless your last name is Thee Stallion, there’s never a reason to rap in public.
Chapter 25
Audre and Bash kissed forever. Could’ve been minutes, but it felt like hours. And when they finally stopped, the vibe was still there. It was almost one week past July Fourth, but Brooklyn Bridge fireworks flared far in the distance, brightening the inky sky. They walked around the neighborhood in a hazy daze—but touching each other the whole time. Holding hands. Hooking arms. Hug-walking, which was complicated given Audre’s buzz.
They didn’t mention the kiss, though. It was like they had an unspoken agreement not to go there, because there was too much to unpack. Was Audre’s whole “strictly business” thing out the window? What did it mean? Where did they go from here? Who’s responsible? Neither one was prepared to answer these questions. No, tonight, they just wanted to be lost in the feeling—no matter how unrealistic the feeling was.
They barely spoke at all, to be honest. Too many words would’ve ruined it.
One hard truth, though, was that Audre needed to sober up before getting home. So, Bash stepped in. At a corner store, he bought her a one-liter bottle of water and a soft pretzel. He sat with her on a bench until she felt normal. It wasn’t until she successfully walked in a straight line down the sidewalk that they decided to head back. But first, Bash checked his phone.
“Umm… Audre? When did you say your curfew was?”
“Eleven.” She exhaled contentedly, her head leaning against Bash’s shoulder. Then reality hit and she bolted upright. “Oh no. Oh God. I haven’t checked my phone at all.”
“It’s 10:48. You’re only fifteen blocks up.” Bash stood up and reached out to her. “Here, hop on my back.”
Audre cocked her head, disbelieving. “You’re joking. Who are you, Edward Cullen? You’re gonna fly me through the blue-tinted evergreens of Washington State?”
“Basically. But I’m gonna run. We can make it.”
“With me on your back?”
“There’s a whole Finnish track and field sport where men run while holding women up on their shoulders. Google it later. Come on, we don’t have time to debate this.”
Did she have any other options? Not really. So, Bash bent down, and in one fell swoop easily hoisted Audre up on his back. And then he took off. Ten minutes later, he was dropping her off at her front door—exactly two minutes early.
Unfortunately, Audre’s apartment door flew open before Bash had a chance to run down the stairs. (He was fast, but not that fast.)
Audre’s stepdad, Shane, was at the door. He looked like he’d just run out of a burning building—incorrectly buttoned flannel shirt, baby-food-stained joggers, and a wild expression.
If Audre wasn’t totally sober before, she was now.
“Who the hell is this?” Shane asked her without so much as a glance at the tall kid frozen next to his stepdaughter.
Audre and Bash looked at each other, eyes huge and mouths sealed shut.
Shane took a step forward. “I said, who the hell is this?”
Audre, who had never heard this even-keeled, unruffled, chill-as-hell man raise his voice, nearly jumped out of her skin. Shane wasn’t a disciplinarian. He was like her fun uncle. She could count on one hand the times they’d gotten annoyed with each other. And it was usually about something dumb, like who ate the last Girl Scout Samoa cookie.
Shane never yelled at Audre.
“It’s B-Bash,” she stammered. “This… this is Bash. My friend. My new friend.”
Shane looked at Bash, who was two inches taller than he was. Audre couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. She’d never brought a guy home. The last time a boy was even in her house was four years ago, before Shane was in the picture.