This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2025 by Tia Williams

Emoji icons © Icons Home/shutterstock.com

Notebook paper art © rangsan paidaen/shutterstock.com

Cover art copyright © 2025 by Andi Porretta. Cover design by Karina Granda.

Cover copyright © 2025 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

Interior design by Michelle Gengaro-Kokmen.

Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Little, Brown and Company

Hachette Book Group

1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104

Visit us at LBYR.com

First Edition: May 2025

Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Little, Brown name and logo are registered trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

Little, Brown and Company books may be purchased in bulk for business, educational, or promotional use. For information, please contact your local bookseller or the Hachette Book Group Special Markets Department at special.markets@hbgusa.com.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Williams, Tia, 1975– author.

Title: Audre & Bash are just friends / Tia Williams.

Other titles: Audre and Bash are just friends

Description: First edition. | New York : Little, Brown and Company, 2025. | Audience term: Teenagers | Audience: Ages 14 and up. | Summary: In need of inspiration for her self-help book, sixteen-year-old straightlaced Audre hires seventeen-year-old easygoing Bash to be her fun consultant for a summer full of daring experiences and undeniable romance.

Identifiers: LCCN 2024039689 | ISBN 9780316511087 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780316480697 (ebook)

Subjects: CYAC: Romance stories. | African Americans—Fiction. | LCGFT: Romance fiction. | Novels.

Classification: LCC PZ7.W66827 Au 2025 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2024039689

ISBNs: 978-0-316-51108-7 (hardcover), 978-0-316-48069-7 (ebook)

E3-20250418-JV-NF-ORI

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Acknowledgments

Discover More

About the Author

By Tia Williams

Cover

Table of Contents

Page List

iv

v

vi

vii

viii

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

57

58

59

60

61

62

63

64

65

66

67

68

69

70

71

72

73

74

75

76

77

78

79

80

81

82

83

84

85

86

87

88

89

90

91

92

93

94

95

96

97

98

99

100

101

102

103

104

105

106

107

108

109

110

111

112

113

114

115

116

117

118

119

120

121

122

123

124

125

126

127

128

129

130

131

132

133

134

135

136

137

138

139

140

141

142

143

144

145

146

147

148

149

150

151

152

153

154

155

156

157

158

159

160

161

162

163

164

165

166

167

168

169

170

171

172

173

174

175

176

177

178

179

180

181

182

183

184

185

186

187

188

189

190

191

192

193

194

195

196

197

198

199

200

201

202

203

204

205

206

207

208

209

210

211

212

213

214

215

216

217

218

219

220

221

222

223

224

225

226

227

228

229

230

231

232

233

234

235

236

237

238

239

240

241

242

243

244

245

246

247

248

249

250

251

252

253

254

255

256

257

258

259

260

261

262

263

264

265

266

267

268

269

270

271

272

273

274

275

276

277

278

279

280

281

282

283

284

285

286

287

288

289

290

291

292

293

294

295

296

297

298

299

300

301

302

303

304

305

306

307

308

309

310

311

312

313

314

315

316

317

318

319

320

321

322

323

324

325

326

327

328

329

330

331

332

333

334

335

336

337

338

339

340

341

342

343

344

345

346

347

348

349

350

351

352

353

354

355

356

357

358

359

360

361

362

363

364

365

366

368

369

370

371

i

ii

372

373

For Carolina May, my favorite girl
in the world

Explore book giveaways, sneak peeks, deals, and more.

Tap here to learn more.

Chapter 1

“Let’s get back to your issue, Sparrow.” Audre sat perched atop a toilet, resting her chin on her hand.

“Wait, which one?” asked Sparrow. She was splayed out in an empty bathtub, gulping vodka from a motivational water bottle. (STAY HYDRATED! NO EXCUSES! KEEP DRINKING!)

“Well… your love life,” she reminded her gently.

“Oh. Right.”

It was the last day of school, which always felt like a holiday. A day when all previous beefs and dramas were put to bed. No matter who they were—emo boys, anime girls, theater heads, full-glam baddies, fake thugs, K-pop queens, rich kids, scholarship kids, and people of all sexual preferences, genders, and astrological affiliations—everyone got along. It was only 4 PM, but almost every Cheshire Prep junior she knew was wasted, and hanging out at Reshma Wells’s multimillion-dollar house. It was one of the bougiest brownstones in one of Brooklyn’s bougiest neighborhoods, Park Slope.

As usual, Audre Mercy-Moore was at the party, but she wasn’t partying. In fact, she only heard the muffled party sounds (Ice Spice and screechy laughter) through the walls. But she could imagine the rest. No doubt the air was thick with the scent of fruity vape smoke, Sol de Janeiro perfume, and pizza. Assorted sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds were hooking up all over Reshma’s parents’ furniture. Her classmates were wearing a copy-paste blur of Brandy Melville and white Air Force Ones. This party was identical to every other party.

Honestly, all Audre Mercy-Moore wanted to do was go home and pack for “Dadifornia”—that is, her annual summerlong stay with her dad and stepmom in Malibu Beach, California. The trip was her heaven, her summertime reward for busting her ass all year to be a model student. Her dad’s cottage was so cozy, with its sun-faded teal exterior and seaside deck. Audre’s bedroom window faced the beach, where the roar of the ocean lulled her to sleep every night.

Yes, she was a born-and-bred city girl. But Dadifornia was her happy place. For many reasons, she couldn’t get there fast enough. But right now, she had a job to do.

Focus, thought Audre. This is about Sparrow. Are you doing your “active listening” face?

She snuck a quick glance in the floor-length wall mirror—doe eyes, dimples, a tousled tumble of gold-streaked goddess braids. Thrifted slip dress and Adidas. She was cute, and honestly? She’d earned it after years of acne treatments, braces, and a brutal keratin “treatment” that destroyed her natural curls in tenth grade. (On the bright side, without that keratin trauma, she wouldn’t have started the Protective Styles Club, which was a hit among all five of the Black girls at Cheshire Prep.) Her only pieces of jewelry were gold hoops and a cameo ring—the good luck charm that had belonged to her great-great-grandma.

On a good day, she felt above average. But she would’ve killed to be dangerously sexy. Hot. Unfortunately, she landed just on the outskirts of hot. The suburbs of hot.

It’s fine, she thought. College is when my life will start. When my sexy chapter begins. Now focus on Sparrow!

On any other day, Audre would’ve loved helping Sparrow through her latest mental health crisis. She was one of her favorite lifers. At Cheshire Prep, “lifers” were the kids who’d started Lower School in kindergarten. They’d witnessed every stage of each other’s lives. Identities were established early, and they stuck like glue. Audre’s identity? The person you hoped to run into in the school bathroom if you needed to cry, vomit, reapply lip gloss, anything.

She wasn’t just junior class president, she was also the unofficial therapist of Cheshire Prep—a title she’d given herself back in middle school, when she used to charge classmates twenty-five dollars a session. (These days, she demanded forty-five. Cash only.) For as long as she could remember, people were drawn to her, dying to share their troubles. And Audre loved “therapizing” her friends. She had every intention of becoming a world-famous psychologist one day, so she needed the practice. Who better to study human behavior on than kids she’d literally grown up with?

Audre was everyone’s rock.

The thing about rocks, though? They’re hard on the outside and on the inside. They don’t have insecurities. Or doubts. Or panic attacks, like the one she’d had earlier that day.

“Talk to me, Sparrow,” said Audre in her kind-but-firm professional voice.

“So, I’m at the diner on Monday after school.” As she spoke, Sparrow was peeling off her press-on nails and dropping them into the tub. “At the register, I realized I forgot my ATM card. And then this guy… this angel… shows up and pays for my bacon-egg-and-cheese.”

Sparrow paused to sip her vodka. After a moment, Audre realized she wanted her to guess. “Who was the guy?”

“Bash Henry. That new senior at Hillcrest Prep? Moved to Brooklyn in February? Well, he’s not a senior anymore—he must’ve graduated today. He’s. So. Fine. Do you know him?”

Audre knew of Bash Henry. Hillcrest and Cheshire Prep were rival schools—and Black private school kids were always on each other’s radar, since there weren’t a ton of them. At most, they were friends. At the very least, they’d nod at each other in Silent African American Solidarity. But she hadn’t met Bash yet. Rumor had it, he’d hooked up with three people at Rae Drake’s Sweet Sixteen (with no official invite). And that some Hillcrest kid had a psychotic break in health class while tripping off mushrooms Bash gave him. For a new kid, he already had a wild reputation.

“He paid for your lunch?” continued Audre. “He’s fine and generous.”

“I know, right? Our eyes met and there was this COSMIC. SPARK. We both felt it.”

“Love this. So what’s the problem?”

Sparrow peeled off another nail. “Today, Marco told me he likes him, too. Look, Marco’s my best friend, but you know how competitive I am. I’m an Aries moon—I go feral. It’s why I had to quit the chess club.”

Audre grimaced, remembering. “Hmm. So, do you know if Bash likes guys?”

“Unclear. It’s more that he has this energy where everyone’s attracted to him. He’s just a vibe. He wears lots of rings and thrifted shit, and is floppy and lanky, and just seems, like, slutty but in a spiritual way?”

“Sounds like you really got to know him at the diner. How long did you talk?”

“About thirty seconds.” Sparrow’s face crumpled into a sob. “Fuck. I miss him.”

“Good, good, just lean into the discomfort,” said Audre, struggling to keep a straight face. “What do I always say?”

“It’s not love, it’s adrenaline.”

“Did I say that? I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah, at my twelfth birthday party.” Her voice was getting squeakier the more she drank. “I burst a nose capillary after crying for three hours over that Bieber doc. Remember, you left early cause your mom never let you go to sleepovers.”

Audre stiffened at the mention of her mom. Nervously, she fidgeted with her cameo ring, twirling it around her finger. Once Audre’s biggest fan and fiercest protector, these days her mom was practically a stranger. She didn’t even come to the awards ceremony. She must’ve just… forgotten? Two, three, four years ago, that would’ve been unthinkable. Their relationship, once as cozy and impenetrable as a well-knit sweater, had been slowly unspooling all year.

Another reason why she couldn’t wait to get to Dadifornia.

“Yes, but I also say, decenter boys. You’re the star of your life. You’re the prize.”

“But Bash is so beautiful.”

“He’s beautiful, Sparrow, but he’s also just a boy. Not to be gender normative, but have you met a boy? There’s no reason to be intimidated by one.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “They barely have a coherent thought in their heads.”

“That is… pretty gender normative.”

“My point is, if you pursue Bash and he likes you back, cool! If not? His loss.”

“But why would he like me? He could date anyone. I’ve heard that he has.” She slumped down in the tub, walking her sneakers up the tiled wall. “Would I be hotter with highlights?”

“Sparrow, there’s someone out there dying to love you. Don’t ‘fix’ yourself before they get a chance to fall for the real you.”

Damn. Audre wasn’t even on her best game, and she gave herself chills with that one.

“My ex was into the real me. Dumping him was a mistake.”

“Your ex was a cheater, Sparrow. He gave you and half our class mono.”

“So it’s a no?”

“Yes. Going back to him would be toxic settling.”

“Toxic settling?” asked Sparrow, accidentally dropping a press-on nail into her vodka.

“It’s when you return to a situation that’s bad for you. If it was bad once, it’ll always be bad. Think of it this way—if you see the same tree twice in the forest, it means you’re lost.”

Sparrow gasped. “You’re so. Fucking. Wise.”

Let’s hope Stanford University thinks so, Audre thought, her mind accidentally wandering. College applications were due next fall, which was practically tomorrow. Stanford had the best psych program in the nation. And with her high school record—class president, debate team captain, AP everything, insane PSAT scores and extracurriculars—she should’ve been a no-brainer. But almost everyone applying would have her stats. It wasn’t enough.

So, Audre had figured out how to wow the admissions board. Along with her application, she’d turn in a special project. Extra extra credit if you will. A self-published self-help book for teens. Rules for thriving based on her best advice! It was an excellent idea.

Well, it would be an excellent idea as soon as she figured out what to write. Unfortunately, brainstorming wasn’t going well. Yet another reason she couldn’t get to Dadifornia fast enough. In the laid-back paradise of Malibu, she could finish writing by summer’s end—just in time for applications in the fall.

As Audre opened her mouth to answer Sparrow, Reshma Wells burst into the lavish bathroom. Hurricane Reshma.

Therapy session over.