Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(64)
At this, Shane’s ears perked up. “I’m sorry to hear that. If you ever need to talk, you know where I stay. No pressure, but I lead a teen mentorship group on Saturdays at Park Slope Methodist Church. If you ever find yourself needing a present stepdad.”
Bash nodded shyly. “I might take you up on that one day.”
Audre watched this interaction go down, feeling heart-warmed. In a different context, it seemed like Bash and Shane could be friends. Too bad her mom only saw him as a threat.
Bash gave Shane a pound. Then he awkwardly waved goodbye to Audre. She smiled, wearily, and wiggled her fingers at him.
“Have a nice evening, you guys,” said Bash, heading for the stairwell.
“Same to you, kid.”
Ten minutes later, Audre and Eva were still going at it. Shane sat next to his wife, arms crossed and frowning at the floor.
And Audre was in a fiery rage. (Underneath her rage, though, was relief that Eva hadn’t noticed she’d been drinking.)
“You were awful to him, Mom. For no reason. You don’t understand me. All you care about is appearances. And I know what you’re thinking. ‘Mercy girls don’t run around with guys who get in fights.’ But he didn’t do anything!”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking, Audre.” She was talking as if she were in a daze or a trance. “And it’s my job to steer you in the healthiest direction. I don’t care if you’re mad about it.”
With that, Eva grabbed her icepack and blanket and stormed into the bedroom.
Shane clasped his hands together, elbows on his knees.
“What?” asked Audre.
“I don’t know, man.” He shrugged. “I kinda like the kid.”
Chapter 26
Much later, Audre was lying on the couch, too depressed to change out of her clothes. She was frozen, staring at her mom’s gallery wall—the framed portraits Audre had painted of the two of them, from the time Audre was two up until age twelve. Her eyes unfocused, welled up with tears, and then focused again. It had almost become a kind of meditative exercise. The longer she stared, the more she disconnected from the trash fire of her life. The longer she zeroed in on those relics—artifacts from a younger, simpler time—the easier it was to pretend that she hadn’t gotten herself into a world of (unfair, undeserved) trouble. How did she end up here?
Audre rewound it all in her mind. A mere month ago, she had hoped she was entering her best summer ever. But then her dad decided she was no longer welcome in his home. And Reshma insisted that she “live a little.” And then she met Bash and he scrambled the synapses in her brain.
But what was her part in all of that? What was so unsatisfying about her world that drove her to unravel everything she’d been building her whole life? To torch her relationship with her mother? To be the reason the sweetest guy in the world got in a public fight in front of a hundred wasted, heat-fried people? If someone panicked and called the cops, the repercussions could’ve been cataclysmic for Bash.
Mercy girls don’t run around with boys who get into fights. How dare Eva say that to her. As if Bash was just “a boy who got into fights.” She didn’t know him. She hadn’t even asked what happened. It’s like Eva took one look at them standing in the doorway—admittedly looking guilty of something—and decided she knew the story. Bash was only guilty of trying to defend her. You’d think an overprotective mom would love that.
Audre was an evolved person. Like Bash, she didn’t believe in physically laying hands on anyone. And she wasn’t a fan of violence masquerading as “chivalrous” or “gentlemanly” behavior. But she had to admit—it lit a fire in her to see Bash knock Ellison out! Ellison fucking deserved it. For months, her traumatic prom secret had been gnawing at her insides, her self-esteem ripped to shreds. She’d been terrified that the video had leaked somehow. But tonight? For the first time, she felt like her anxiety balloon had popped, and the pressure was slowly seeping out.
And Bash did it for her. She couldn’t pretend that it didn’t make her melt. No one had ever fought for her before. She didn’t even know she was the kind of girl who could inspire a guy to take such action. And definitely not a guy like Bash, a sweetie-pie cinnamon roll who had philosophical conversations with lanternflies.
And then there was that kiss. That endless, dizzying, so-good-you-forget-your-name kiss. Yes, it completed her fourth challenge, but it was so much more than that. Bash Henry’s mouth, arms, hands, everything—he’d practically changed the molecular structure of her entire body.
But now that she was home and sobering up, insistent little questions began to emerge. What if it hadn’t been special to him? What if he kissed every girl like that? Including Clio? Besides, Audre knew that he was kind to everyone he came across. For God’s sake, he’d even charmed Barry the Silent Neighbor and Wilder the Valedictorian Shrek Singer.
But what if she was really, really falling for Bash? What then?
She could feel her chest start to rise and fall, fast. Then it got tight. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and her heart thundered against her rib cage. Her palms started to tingle. And then the tears came, and she felt like all her atoms were flying away from each other, in opposite directions. She was having a panic attack, right there on the couch. She tried to keep quiet, to avoid waking up her family. She didn’t want them to know she had this affliction, that she wasn’t their perfect daughter. That she barely made it through her award ceremony speech. That she was falling apart.